Brave Companions

Brave Companions, David McCullough. Simon & Schuster (ISBN: 9781668003541) 2022 (first published in 1991).

Summary: Short profiles of exceptional American men and women from biologist Louis Agassiz to writer Harriet Beecher Stowe.

Recently, I reviewed a posthumously published collection of essays by David McCullough. I’ve loved his work ever since devouring his mammoth biography of Harry Truman. But in browsing the list of his books, I discovered there was one I had missed–this one! Obviously I’ve now remedied it.

In this work, McCullough offers brief sketches of a number of extraordinary historical figures, mostly Americans. Collecting these essays for this book, McCullough observed:

“Reading these essays again, selecting and arranging them as a book, I am struck by how much they have in common. In my way, I see now, I have been writing about the same kinds of people all along. And I see, too, the extent to which they have revealed the world and times past for me, and things about myself, that I would not have known otherwise” (p. xi).

It was indeed the case that this collection revealed more than the people, but also glimpses of our world and history in five sections.

First, he addresses “Phenomena.” He begins with the extraordinary journey of Alexander von Humboldt in South America from 1799-1804, accompanied by Aime Bonpland. Essentially, the pair rediscovered rediscovered South America. He follows with a portrait of biologist Louis Agassiz, whose first instruction to students after giving them a preserved fish was “Oh, look at your fish!” He and Asa Gray were friends and phenomena at Harvard who came to loggerheads over Darwin’s theories, which Agassiz couldn’t accept. He concludes the section sketching the life of Harriet Beecher Stowe. McCullough portrays the extraordinary renown for a woman she achieved as well as her renunciation of her father’s Calvinism.

Part Two on “The Real West” portrays life in the cattle town of Medora, in North Dakota’s Badlands. He does so though the lens of two figures, both who lost a fortune there–Teddy Roosevelt and the Marquis de Mores. Roosevelt went there an asthmatic stripling. Work alongside cowboys exhilarated him and turned him into the adventurous, robust figure we know. The other vignette is of artist Frederic Remington, through whom many Americans saw the West portrayed.

In Part Three, McCullough turns to “Pioneers.” He begins with the pioneer railroad engineers who built the first Panama Railway in the early 1850’s, overcoming both topography and disease. The next two essays concern the Brooklyn Bridge, on which McCullough wrote a full-length book. The first focuses on the Roeblings, father and son. Washington Roebling’s extraordinary engineering accomplishment, despite the effects of Caisson’s Disease, is underscored in the second, in which McCullough chronicles his discovery of the meticulous engineering plans for the bridge. Many bore Roebling’s initials and are works of art. McCullough describes his efforts to preserve this treasure. Finally he portrays a trio of early aviators who also wrote: Charles Lindbergh, Antoine de Saint-Exupery, and Beryl Markham.

Then in Part Four, McCullough turns to contemporaries in “Figures in a Landscape.” The first essay is a peril for anyone who already has too many books on the TBR pile. He profiles Conrad Richter, a novelist portraying life on America’s extending frontier. I learned he even wrote a trilogy on the early settlement of Ohio. Then he sketches the work of lawyer Henry Caudill and his fight against strip mining interests denuding the landscape of eastern Kentucky (which continues to this day). We meet zoologist Miriam Rothschild who has studied marine biology, entomology, and farming. Finally, he accompanies photographer David Plowden in his efforts to capture small town America.

The concluding Part Five, “On We Go” is different in not focusing on biography. First, McCullough remembers Washington, DC as he knew it–a very different place from today. The next is a from a magazine assignment, summarizing fifty years of history between 1936 and 1986. I lived through thirty-two of those years and the essay makes me think what I’d write about the next forty. Then McCullough advises Middlebury College graduates in a commencement speech to learn history by traveling. Finally, “Simon Willard’s Clock” is a reflection on the U.S. House of Representatives that I wish all present members of the House would read.

A few of these essays reprise material from McCullough’s longer books. Sometimes a snack rather than a full meal is just right and that is what these essays were. I was particularly fascinated to learn about Alexander von Humboldt, Conrad Richter, and Henry Caudill, a co-belligerent with Wendell Berry. But the particular strength of this book was the chance in brief to glimpse a number of seminal figures, and perhaps find one or two to probe more deeply. We all need our pantheon of brave companions.