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Funny Ha-Ha 4-Ever!

I bet you thought I had forsaken the Zulkey.com interview. Well, I haven't. Good interview subjects can be hard to come by sometime, but fortunately, not today, especially when one comes recommended by somebody super-cool. Today's author is a writer for the Wall Street Journal and a Yankee fan living in Chicago, but we won't hold that against him, since he wrote the much-heralded biography of Lou Gehrig, Luckiest Man.

The Jonathan Eig Interview: Just Under Twenty Questions

How did you gain access to Lou Gehrig’s letters for Luckiest Man?
I was looking through baseball auction catalogs for anything Gehrig might have touched—baseball caps, personal checks, used hankies—anything that would give me a glimpse of his life. I learned, for example, that Gehrig had a very small head (cap size: 7 1/8), and paid $2,000 for a Packard convertible in 1936. Then I hit pay dirt. One catalog listed a batch of letters that Gehrig wrote to his doctor at the Mayo Clinic. I’d been trying for months to get the Mayo to turn over Gehrig’s medical records, with no luck. So I knew I had to see these letters. It took me six months of reporting (by which I mean begging, whining and bribing) before I was able to figure out who had purchased those letters at the auction. I called the owner of the letters, and after a few minutes of begging and whining (no bribing), he generously agreed to let me have copies. It turned out there were 200 pages of letters, and only a few people had ever seen them. No one had ever published them. They were more beautiful and more heartbreaking than I ever could have imagined.

How did the prior owner of the letters acquire them?
Gehrig’s doctor probably gave the letters to his son or daughter. The son or daughter probably decided to sell them. A big auction house conducted the sale, and the letters were purchased for about $40,000 by a guy from Baltimore who owns a construction company.

What exactly is a Picayune?
A small Spanish coin, worth about six cents. It’s also the name of a newspaper, The Times-Picayune of New Orleans, home to some of the finest reporters and photographers in American journalism.

After reading your book, my dad thinks that Lou Gehrig’s life was less interesting than his death. Do you agree?
Who am I to argue with your dad? The fact is, if Gehrig hadn’t died young, I’m certain I would not have been interested in telling his story. He was a pretty ordinary guy for most of his life, apart from the fact that he was extraordinarily handsome and incredibly gifted as an athlete. Even his most remarkable record—the streak of 2,130 consecutive games—was pretty tedious, if you think about it. But given that I knew how the story was going to end, with this horrible illness, Gehrig’s relative dullness became an asset to my story. The fact that he remained so humble, and even managed to seem invisible at times, made him a much more subtle and interesting subject for me. It wasn’t easy to keep such a low profile, yet he seemed to work at it very hard. So what happened when he got sick--when he had more reason than ever to disappear from view? He stepped up to the plate and delivered one of the most courageous and memorable speeches in American history. I still get choked up when I think about it.

My dad says that he also read your book as he watched a show on Mickey Mantle, and he thinks that Mantle’s life was more tragic than Gehrig’s. What think you of that?
As much as I admire your dad, I wish he wouldn’t try to read and watch TV at the same time.

Do you think it’s a pretty lazy interview technique to let my Dad contribute questions?
It depends. Did he come up with the “picayune” question?

No. Who would you write a biography of next?
I’d love to write another biography. It’s a great way to look at how character is formed, how cultural trends shape lives, and how relationships influence personalities and events. It’s a nice way to get a slice of history. But finding a worthy subject is no easy trick. I’m still working on it. If your readers have any suggestions, they can email me.

Who are some of your favorite baseball players today?
I like guys who overcome obstacles, including Jorge Posada (funny ears), David Eckstein (the shortest guy in the bigs, I think), Bernie Williams (he recorded an album of smooth-jazz guitar, poor guy), and Melvin Mora (he and his wife have quintuplets).

How did Seabiscuit inspire you to write Luckiest Man?
It was a terrific book in so many ways. But it occurred to me as I was reading that the sportswriters covering all those horse races back in the 1930s were the equivalent of free laborers for Laura Hillenbrand. In effect, she had a dozen reporters following her subject around, and all she had to do was organize their notes and craft them into a beautiful narrative. Writing a book was just that simple! While I was reading her book I began to wonder if I could use the beat writers who covered the Yankees to pull off the same trick with Gehrig. The only problem, as I soon discovered, was that Gehrig didn’t talk much more than Seabiscuit. So I had my work cut out for me.

How long did it take for you to write and research Luckiest Man? Did you research first, then write or do it in tandem?
I spent a year on the proposal. After selling the book to Simon & Schuster, the book took another two years. I did a lot of research, and then I started writing. But I kept reporting throughout the writing process. Every time I tried to write a passage, it raised more questions and helped me see the holes in my story. So I would go out and do more research. For me, writing and reporting are distinct yet inseparable, like Ernie and Bert.

Can you tell us about Lou Gehrig’s attempts to go Hollywood?
He initially tried out for the role of Tarzan, but the producers took a look at his massive thighs and decided they would frighten away rather than attract women. Fortunately for Gehrig, the producers made no comment on his enormous rear end, which had earned him the nickname “Biscuit Pants” when he first joined the Yankees. Gehrig did get to play a cowboy in a Western called “Rawhide,” which co-starred Smith Ballew as a singing, gun-toting attorney. They don’t make ‘em like that anymore, and for good reason.

Do you think Gehrig’s somewhat passive relationships with his mother and wife would be regarded with more criticism if it occurred today, less, the same?
It’s difficult to imagine how Gehrig would be perceived today, in part because it’s difficult to imagine a young man remaining so shy and unassuming when confronted with the wealth and fame today’s game supplies. But let’s put it this way: If Barry Bonds were to announce that he was turning over his business decisions to his wife and that he was going to start spending less time with his physical trainer and more with his mother, I suspect his image would be tremendously enhanced.

What are some of your favorite baseball books?
I love “The Natural,” by Malamud. “The Glory of their Times” by Lawrence Ritter is fantastic. And I can’t get enough of Roger Angell’s various compilations.

Can you name a beloved-by-many baseball player who you think was overrated?
Reggie Jackson comes to mind, but I’m not sure he was all that beloved. In Wiffle Ball, it’s my brother Matt, without a doubt.

How do you think the steroid scandal will appear to baseball fans twenty, thirty years from now?
I think ballplayers will be on much better drugs by then, and we will all look back on this era in awe, wondering how Bonds, McGwire and Sosa managed to hit so many home runs given the lousy quality of juice available.

As a journalist, what have been some of the most fun stories to cover, and which have been some of the most difficult?
One of my first stories for the Times-Picayune was one of the most difficult, and also one of the most fun. I was assigned to follow a bunch of city officials from New Orleans to New York and, without being detected, watch how much money they spent on entertainment. I used disguises such as “Man in Trench Coat” and “Man in Trench Coat with Hat.” I even employed my mother as a spy. She chatted with some of the city officials in the lobby of their hotel and asked them where they were going to dinner so that I could follow them there. I followed them to Little Italy, to a theater on Broadway (We saw “Fences” with Billy Dee Williams). My dad did the driving. When I got back to New Orleans I called and told them they’d been followed and asked to see their expense reports. They were not happy.

How does Chicago compare to New York as a baseball town?
New York fans are louder, and tougher, and perhaps more savvy. Chicago fans (and I should acknowledge here that I root most passionately for the Yankees but share a Cubs season-ticket package with friends) have just about cornered the market in suffering, and, like the Jews, their suffering has helped forge the core of their identity. Yet, oddly, Chicago fans don’t boo much. They complain, but they’re pretty polite about it.

White Sox? 2005? (Of course as I write this they just dropped two games to the Kansas City Royals, of all teams.
Sorry, but the White Sox don’t have the pitching to win it all. Come to think of it, they don’t have the hitting either.

How does it feel to be the 127th person interviewed for Zulkey.com?
I feel like the 127th luckiest man on the face of the earth. Which is still pretty darned lucky.

More interviews here.