This is Getting Ghoulish (Michael Jackson)

By Jack Engelhard

Jonas Salk was never mourned like this – and he cured the world of polio.

No disrespect to Michael Jackson the pop star, pay him whatever tributes you wish, but I wonder how many other Jacksons live and die good ordinary lives and yet we do not call out their names. I wonder how many Michael Jacksons there are in our military, in harms way right this minute in Iraq and Afghanistan, who serve without recognition.

This wall to wall coverage, these mobs bewailing an entertainer, all of it, in such excess, approaches ghoulishness. The last time this happened was when silent screen idol Valentino died young and, as H.L. Mencken tells it, Valentino was startled by his fame and uncomfortable in his skin as a sex symbol -- so surely he would have been horrified by the multitudes who grieved his death.

Obviously many of us lead lives of “quiet desperation” (Thoreau), so we live vicariously, through the lives of others, mostly entertainers and athletes. Nathanael West covered this in his Hollywood novel “The Day of the Locust,” about those lonely people who have turned fetish in their adoration of celebrities, alive or dead. Their sorrow becomes dangerous when it marches as a mob.

Let’s not dwell on the value of Pop to our culture, nor of the public crotch grabbing (simulated masturbation) that taught us to accept and even to welcome vulgarity. Never mind all that, though it’s true that another entertainer of that same period, Pee Wee Herman (Paul Reubens) was actually arrested for doing something like that in private. We get it from Wikipedia that “In July, 1991, Reubens was arrested for indecent exposure while masturbating during an adult theater performance in Sarasota, Florida.”

Let’s not touch on whatever urged Jackson to make song from such lyrics as, “Jew me, sue me, kick me, kike me.”

There’s that other business as well that is best left alone.

Let’s give him his due that he was an entertainer blessed and cursed by an overabundance of talent – to borrow from what the writer John W. Cassell told me over the phone, “That he could never live up to what was expected of him. That’s what destroyed him.” I’m buying that because what Jackson is to others, Elvis was to me. Only I began to appreciate Elvis when it was too late, after he was gone.

At the time, back then, I thought he was all wrong. How I’ve changed about Elvis! Maybe one day I’ll change about Michael Jackson.

Elvis came along when there was a cultural void to fill and I guess the same goes for Jackson.

But this is not about either of them. This is about adoration and adulation that gets out of hand. This is about idol-worship.

There is something sick in our culture when the earth stands still for a man who could sing and dance.

There is something misplaced in our priorities when our news media goes gaga over one Jackson above all the other Jacksons.

About the author: Novelist Jack Engelhard’s latest thriller, “The Bathsheba Deadline,” which centers on media deceit against America and Israel, is available in paperback at Amazon. Engelhard wrote the international bestselling novel “Indecent Proposal” that was translated into more than 22 languages and turned into a Paramount motion picture starring Robert Redford and Demi Moore. The book version of “Indecent Proposal,” that inspired the movie, is a microcosm of the Arab/Israeli conflict. Engelhard can be reached at www.jackengelhard.com








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The Art of Pushing Books

By Jack Engelhard

The trick is to get yourself a good publicist, a publicist, as I was once told, who would kill for you. Well, that’s going too far, don’t you think? I haven’t had a publicist since that one time back then. After that it’s been me and you and where are you? I must learn the art of persuasion, public relations, backslapping. I should go to the right parties. I should do lunch at Elaine’s. I should get out more. Must get on TV. Better yet, get my own show.

My guess is that I’ll become rich and famous after I die. That’s how it usually happens. Success (for artists) usually happens after it too late.

I have no idea why I’m complaining. Most people have it worse. My gripe, I guess, is why we need all that marketing and the trickery that goes with it and why it is that TV personalities have all the apparatus and all the luck – when real writers are stuck at their computers without a paddle.

That was today when that host on TV begged his guest to read his book – which, incidentally, is already up there on the charts. Still not enough – aye? There’s this other TV guy who always ends his show by pimping his book. Shouldn’t there be a law against this? Isn’t that advertising? You and me, we’d have to pay for such a plug.

Is it really a book anyway when it’s written by committee? Don’t tell me those celebs are actually sweating away at the typewriter. My guess is that they “approve” what’s handed to them by the team of writers who’ve been bought and paid for. Maybe you know those personalities, the ones I’m talking about, but I won’t mention them for fear of being blacklisted.

No, please don’t make me name names. They’ll never invite me. I’ll never get on. I must behave so that the NY Times will notice me as it notices Dave Eggers and the rest of that crowd that they love so much whether they write well or not – all of them geniuses of the month. So I must learn to behave or learn to sell, sell myself, sell my books, do Oprah.

I’ll get on it right after this nap.

I suggest that the finest writing – even great writing – is untapped, unpublicized, unread, even unpublished.

King Solomon said that “there is no end to the publishing of too many books” – and that was 3,000 years ago, before Gutenberg and before they all got on TV.

I do notice that books that become bestsellers are generally non-fiction – about golf or losing weight, mostly all about success and improving yourself and the world, millions of such books are being bought and sold though strangely as of yet I have seen no improvement in behavior as to individuals or the world.

Real literature is not about the world but it is about a corner of the world. That’s the most a writer can do is write about his corner and believe it, often enough that corner, small as it is, speaks for the universe. Each person is a universe and so is each book. When writer and reader meet at the same corner, that’s the magic of literature.

If you’re reading this you’re not watching TV, some TV host or TV guest pushing his books. Well, that’s a start.

Novelist Jack Engelhard wrote the international best-seller “Indecent Proposal” that was translated into more than 22 languages and turned into a Paramount motion picture starring Robert Redford and Demi Moore. His latest novels are “The Bathsheba Deadline” and “The Girls of Cincinnati.” He can be reached at www.jackengelhard.com

Naked Without a Teleprompter

By Jack Engelhard

This may come as a shock to readers who think I’m exceedingly smart or stupid, but listen, I do it my way, all on my own.

I have no staff to hand me material. Like other civilians, I walk through life entirely spontaneous. I even write books all by myself – wrote them all without help.

I take full responsibility for this column and for the thousands I’ve written throughout the years.

But David Letterman makes $35 million a year reading off cue cards?

This man Letterman, as I understand it, now blames his writers for the Palin jokes that went over like a lead balloon.

Whom can I blame when I go wrong?

When I speak in public (like going out to buy a paper or get gas) I have no cue cards or teleprompter to serve up repartee.

I know it works for comedians and Community Organizers. We even have proof that a good teleprompter CAN fool all the people all the time.

But oratory and gags don’t work for me when done by committee.

Is it even legit?

I am not sure why we laugh at jokes that are delivered by a man who is only aping material that has been community organized.

Late news has it that, out of Kenya, the brother of our Community Organizer in Chief is working on a “book,” for which he will be paid $6 million. This will surely be a family saga of a child born to us who became President of the World. For certain (or it’s just my guess) a ghost writer has already been hired to do the “writing.”

As Truman Capote said of a competing novelist (Jack Kerouac), “That’s not writing. That’s typing.”

Back in school they called it cribbing.

How many writers does it take to screw in one joke? I ask because I watched one of those award shows where Jon Stewart got up to receive a citation for his humor, and no doubt he is a funny man, but marching up there with him, onto the stage, to share the acclaim, were more than a dozen of his gagsters.

I was surprised – and jealous. Where are MY writers? I would love to start a novel, or a column, and then turn to my staff and say, “Okay, you finish up.”

Actually I wouldn’t like that because then it wouldn’t be mine. It wouldn’t be true and it wouldn’t be original.

Most of us do our writing in captivity. Mark Twain was brilliant and hilarious as a writer and public speaker and far as I know he had no entourage.

When did original thinking die in America? The words for Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address came from his own mind, heart and pen.

Lincoln also relied on himself for oratory equally as great, his Second Inaugural Address, which did borrow from one source – the Bible.

King David, then, wrote all that sublime poetry – the Psalms – in private. No committee for him, unless you mean God.

But like the man said – “God is dead.”

Or as I say, God is alive but we’re dead.

Novelist Jack Engelhard wrote the international bestselling novel “Indecent Proposal” that was translated into more than 22 languages and turned into a Paramount motion picture starring Robert Redford and Demi Moore. His latest works are the newsroom thriller “The Bathsheba Deadline” and the love story/suspense novel “The Girls of Cincinnati,” all available in paperback at Amazon. His Works can be viewed and he can be reached at www.jackengelhard.com

Top 10 Reasons to Snub David Letterman

Top 10 Reasons to Snub David Letterman After the Palin Fiasco:

By Jack Engelhard

10: He’s not funny.

9: His jokes are written by 20 frat boys who have an IQ of 180 – combined.

8. His audience gets in for free – and even that’s paying too much.

7. On his best day he’s no Johnny Carson. Carson would never stoop for a laugh.

6. Letterman’s reference to Sarah Palin as “slutty” was an insult to all women.

5. Letterman’s routine on Monday took up the Palin family’s visit to New York, which included a trip to the ball park. Here’s Letterman in his own words: “During the seventh inning, her [Palin’s] daughter was knocked-up by Alex Rodriguez.” Todd Palin, the father, responded like this: “Any jokes about raping my 14-year-old daughter are despicable.”

4. A perverted crack like that, by Letterman, got on national TV.

3. But a quip like that against a 14-year-old girl would most likely require registration as a sex offender in my neighborhood.

2. Letterman and his staff of writers misunderstand the phrase – “Women and children first.”

1. On the pretense of contrition, Letterman denied that he was a “celebrity.” Now we know what he isn’t – and we know what he is.

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Novelist Jack Engelhard wrote the international bestselling novel “Indecent Proposal” that was translated into more than 22 languages and turned into a Paramount motion picture starring Robert Redford and Demi Moore. His latest novel is “The Girls of Cincinnati.” He can be reached at his website www.jackengelhard.com

Strange Deafness Afflicts Salinger Lawsuit

By Jack Engelhard

Salinger can’t hear? That’s hard to take.

Reports are coming in that JD Salinger “is now totally deaf.” That’s a quote being attributed to his agent, whose job it is to enforce his privacy.

As I wrote in an earlier piece (“Salinger Alleges Indecent Rip-off”), I don’t know much about the law, but here, as a novelist who names Salinger as one of his literary heroes, I can say what strangeness it is to blurt out such news. I don’t doubt the truth of this revelation, but I do wonder why it got out from his gatekeepers. They must have known it would make headlines – and not in a good way.

Already there are parodies of his aging (he’s 90) and headlines that term him “frail and deaf.” (Shades of Howard Hughes?) I hope we’re not gloating.

There’s this passage to consider about a man who’s been stricken by age and infirmity and because of this, becomes the object of laughter and sport: “Wait, he used to whisper to me. Everybody gets a turn.” That’s from my novel “The Girls of Cincinnati” about a salesman, Lou Emmett, but it could have been written about a novelist, JD Salinger.

Everybody gets a turn, kids.

This is a man, Salinger, who’s kept himself fiercely reclusive for an entire generation. We know almost nothing about him except for the writing. That’s been the deal. Salinger is all about the sanctity of the novel, which is why (through his lawyers) he’s going to court to stop publication and distribution of an alleged rip-off of “The Catcher in The Rye.”

Maybe it needed to be said for legal reasons, that he’s “now totally deaf.” Probably so. But Salinger must be cringing that he’s been made public – and pathetic.

His people couldn’t stop this from getting out? Maybe not. Still, I find it strange that an image so unflattering got divulged.

They couldn’t foresee the headlines and the mockery – if indeed that quote of his deafness is correct as received?

Salinger’s argument has always been that his writings do the talking. That is all we need to know about him.

He is Holden Caulfield (still) as Flaubert was Madame Bovary.

His revenge has been his silence. For that he’s been admired, and scorned.

As for me, what’s not to like? He’s a war hero. He was in action at Utah Beach on D-Day and in The Battle of the Bulge. Later, serving in counter intelligence, he interrrogated Nazi prisoners of war who'd been active in the death camps. He told his daughter, "You never get the small of burning flesh out of your nose entirely, no matter how long you live."

Salinger hates people. He especially hates the uppity New York publishing scene – this, after years of rejection before some of his short stories and “Catcher” saw print. He wrote ONE novel that’s made him more beloved (and disdained) than novelists who’ve written them by the hundreds.

Yes, sometimes it takes but one great book to secure a reputation. That is true glory and blessedness.

Like Paul Newman, his father was Jewish, his mother was Catholic. I don’t quite get the message here except that the Almighty does indeed work in mysterious ways.

We ought to delight in the fact that (at 90) we still have him with us – “totally deaf” or whatever.

To those who envy him and rejoice in his affliction, here’s the wisdom of King Solomon:

“So remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come.”

Novelist Jack Engelhard wrote the international bestselling novel “Indecent Proposal” that was translated into more than 22 languages and turned into a Paramount motion picture starring Robert Redford and Demi Moore. His latest novels are “The Bathsheba Deadline” and “The Girls of Cincinnati.” He can be reached at www.jackengelhard.com

Salinger Alleges Indecent Rip-Off

By Jack Engelhard

Someone has come along with a “sequel” to JD Salinger’s “The Catcher in the Rye.” Salinger is suing to stop publication and distribution. He calls it a “rip-off.”

Don’t look at me to get into the legalities. But I do know how it feels.

I wrote nothing as popular as “The Catcher in the Rye” but popular enough to be translated into more than 22 languages and to be made into a movie starring Robert Redford and Demi Moore – “Indecent Proposal.” (The movie’s box office was about $260 million worldwide.) The novel’s concept (“what would you do for a million dollars?”) was mine and the title was mine. This was original and it was my baby.

My novel sold about 4 million copies worldwide and still sells (through Comteq Publishing) even after the movie has run dry.

Salinger’s novel is still going strong after sales of 70 million.

Around the house, following the publication of “Indecent Proposal,” we used to say, “No matter what happens, they can’t take that away from you.”

Really?

About a year ago a “writer” decided to rip-off my title. She calls her book “Indecent Proposal.” I haven’t read the rip-off (the “book” itself) and I cannot say if my theme was borrowed. I can only speak of the title. I am told, by lawyers, that titles are not protected. Okay, that’s the legality. But what about respect – the unspoken rules that govern the tenderness of literature?

When I found out about this rip-off of my title I was upset. Now I’m still upset. I felt mugged then and I feel mugged now. Comes to this, I guess, which is: “Why come up with your own title? Borrow the title from a novel already famous and you’re in business fast.” No, getting ripped off doesn’t get better with age.

Salinger is 90 years old now and he’s still zealous of his “intellectual property.” Good for him!

“Imitation,” we’re told, “is the highest form of flattery.” Speaking for Salinger and for myself, thanks anyway, but we can do without the flattery.

Maybe we should feel pity for “writers” who are so feeble that they have no choice but to go scavenging after other people’s books – in my case, true, only the title.

But the title has been my claim to fame – if fame is the word we want in the case of all writers whose dreams and struggles never end.

Salinger’s claim to fame is “The Catcher in the Rye.” Salinger is a recluse. He doesn’t want to be near people. (Who can blame him?) He wants his privacy but people keep pursuing him. All right, pursue the man if we must. That’s the lesser evil. But to pursue his novel, that is the greater evil. A true novel, like any true work of art, is as near to holiness as we’ll ever get.

Salinger did not make the novel. The novel made Salinger.

I can say the same as for me and for “Indecent Proposal.”

Novelists invest time and blood into the work of a book and after that we have to fend off publishers, editors, reviewers and even friends who wish us to go splat.

That ought to be enough. We don’t need copycats on top of it all.

I have since published other novels just waiting for the vultures.

Salinger is quoted as saying that there is a “marvelous peace in not publishing.”

That is so damned true. The pleasure is only in the writing. That’s the heaven. After that comes the hell.

Novelist Jack Engelhard wrote the international bestselling novel “Indecent Proposal” that was translated into more than 22 languages and turned into a Paramount motion picture starring Robert Redford and Demi Moore. His latest novels are “The Bathsheba Deadline” and “The Girls of Cincinnati.” He can be reached at www.jackengelhard.com

Employees Must Wash Hands

By Jack Engelhard

I’m not perfect either but I’ve got to say, people are tough to take.

At the diner where I had breakfast this morning, the sign in the Gents room said, “Employees Must Wash Hands.” That’s a sign we find everywhere.

My cat knows to wash her hands after doing her business. People have to be told. We call this evolution? Maybe Darwin had it backwards.

In the doctor’s office the sign reads, “Always cover your mouth when you cough.”

Been on a train lately, or subway, or bus? Or the mall? So I don’t have to tell you that (generally) people do not adhere to this hygienic courtesy.

People cough and sneeze up close and personal – and they curse. I remember the F-word as something we uttered privately after getting cut off in traffic. Today, it’s gone public. We hear it everywhere and there’s no use saying, as we used to, “Hey, there are ladies present.” First, it’s so prevalent that there’d be no place to start or stop. Second, ladies do it, too.

As you can tell, I got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. That’s because the neighbor’s dog woke me up six o’clock this morning – woke up the whole neighborhood. But I’m the only one who complained. Neighbors don’t talk anymore, not in this America. So I asked the neighbor to please do something about the dog.

He did – and we’ll see about tomorrow. They’re new neighbors so maybe they don’t know the rules.

You’d think, of course, that all of us would know certain rules. This is not a jungle, or maybe it is.

Wait. My bad mood began on the trip I took to New York, and back. The lady behind the counter was chomping on potato chips, with one hand, and was on the phone with the other hand, chatting about her son-in-law. Finally, she asked what I wanted. I wanted to buy tickets. Obviously, I was interrupting her personal life with business. She did the transaction with reluctance and annoyance. She was happy again when she got back on the phone, and back to her potato chips.

At the bus station in New York, the lady at the Information counter did not have information. I asked her about the schedule going back and everything she told me turned out to be wrong. But I did catch a bus and sat in front of someone who was snoring peals of thunder, mouth wide open.

Next to me a lady was on the phone. Maybe we ought to outlaw cell phones. Or maybe we ought to outlaw people using cell phones in public.

Or maybe we should outlaw people.

My cell phone loses contact after 12 seconds. Other people can talk for hours, like this lady on the bus.

She had a voice so loud that really, there was no need for a telephone. I caught her entire life’s history, like what the x-ray said, and what the babysitter did.

I missed one part and asked her to please repeat that part that I had missed. I was trying to be charming. There is no charm in this America.

When I got in the car I was on a road whose speed limit is 40. The car in front was doing 20. I was tempted to signal that I wanted to pass – as we used to do years ago. You signaled, and you passed (where it was legal and safe) and everybody got home as friends. Today, of course, in this America, if you pass someone, you never know who’s in that other car!

When I get rich, I’m staying home. But meanwhile, please wash hands before leaving.

Novelist Jack Engelhard is the author of “Indecent Proposal” that was translated into more than 22 languages and turned into a Paramount motion picture starring Robert Redford and Demi Moore. His latest novels are the newsroom thriller “The Bathsheba Deadline” and the suspenseful love story “The Girls of Cincinnati.” He can be reached at www.jackengelhard.com