Timothy Egan, author of Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher will be speaking in Lake Oswego on February 10, 2016 at 7 pm in the Lake Oswego High School auditorium.
Admission is free but a ticket is required. Members of the Friends of the Library will have the first opportunity to pick up their tickets on Saturday, January 9 at the Booktique. Tickets will be available to nonmembers on January 23 at 10 am at the Library. To join the Friends for $15 per person (1 ticket) or $25 for family (2 tickets), visit https://friendslopl.wildapricot.org/
National Book Award Winner &
New York Times Op-Ed Writer
Timothy Egan is an acclaimed writer and veteran chronicler of the West whose interests range wide across the American landscape and American history. He is a Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter, a popular columnist, and a National Book Award-winning author.
His weekly online column for The New York Times, the popular “Opinionator,” is consistently among the most read pieces on the NYT site. Before that, he worked as one of the newspaper’s national correspondents, roaming the West and serving as its Pacific Northwest correspondent. In 2001, Egan was part of the Pulitzer Prize-winning team that wrote the series “How Race Is Lived in America.”
Egan is the author of several books, including The Big Burn: Teddy Roosevelt and the Fire That Saved America, a New York Times bestseller and winner of the 2009 Pacific Northwest Booksellers Award. The Big Burn was also the inspiration for a recent documentary also titled The Big Burn, which aired on The American Experience (PBS) in 2014. Egan’s book The Worst Hard Time: The Untold Story of Those Who Survived the Great American Dust Bowl, a work Walter Cronkite called “can’t-put-it-down history,” won the 2006 National Book Award for nonfiction. (Egan is featured prominently in Ken Burns’ acclaimed 2012 film, The Dust Bowl.)
His most recent book, a “riveting biography” (Boston Globe) of the famous photographer of American Indians, Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher: The Epic Life and Immortal Photographs of Edward S. Curtis, was named one of the best books of the year by Publishers Weekly and was awarded the 2013 Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Nonfiction. The Wall Street Journal said, “Egan fills his chronicle with bright turns of phrase and radiant descriptions, making both places and people come alive . . . A sweeping tale about two vanishing ways of life.”
This third-generation Westerner is also the author of The Good Rain: Across Time and Terrain in the Pacific Northwest, a text consistently voted one of the essential books about the region. It won the Pacific Northwest Booksellers Association Award. “When it comes to this spectacularly mildewed corner of the American linoleum, Timothy Egan gets it right,” commented Tom Robbins.
Egan also wrote Lasso the Wind: Away to the New West, a New York Times Notable Book of the Year which won the Mountains and Plains Book Seller’s Association Award, and Breaking Blue, a true crime account of the nation’s longest running murder investigation. On this latter book, Tony Hillerman said, “I wish I had written it. No one who enjoys mystery can fail to savor this study of a classic case of detection.” Egan has also penned a novel, The Winemaker’s Daughter, a story of wine, love, fire and betrayal, and has been a regular contributor to BBC Radio with his series of vignettes on American life.
Tim Egan is working on a new book titled The Immortal Irishman: Thomas Francis Meagher and the Invention of Irish America (Houghton Mifflin, March 2016). It will be about Thomas Francis Meagher, a 19th-century Irish rebel who was banished to Tasmania by the English, escaped to America, and fought for the Union in the American Civil War as general of the Irish Brigade.
Tim Egan on Edward S. Curtis, 'Seattle's Michelangelo'
The author talks about the life of Edward S. Curtis, a prolific photographer of American Indians
at a time when they faced huge pressure.
By Robin Lindley August 20, 2014
Seattle’s Edward S. Curtis (1868-1952) was the most prominent photographer of his time. In 1900, he launched a grand project to capture on film the lives and culture of the North American Indian tribes. His monumental work has been considered the “largest anthropological enterprise ever undertaken.” Yet, by the time of his death, he was impoverished, living in obscurity and largely forgotten.
Acclaimed Seattle journalist and historian Timothy Egan introduced the remarkable Curtis to a new generation in his vivid biography Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher: The Epic Life and Immortal Photographs of Edward Curtis (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt). As Mr. Egan recounts, a 1896 meeting with Chief Seattle’s last surviving child Princess Angeline or Kick-is-om-lo, inspired Curtis who, a few years later, embarked on an often perilous three-decade journey, documenting the lives of more than 80 Native American tribes with over 40,000 photographs, collecting thousands of songs, myths, customs and rituals, and even creating vocabulary and language guides for 75 tribes. As Egan describes, Curtis crisscrossed the continent at great personal risk as he collected images and stories, and demanded recognition of the human rights of the native populace. For his constant concern with light and shadow, Curtis earned the nickname “The Shadow Catcher.” Egan’s account captures Curtis’s almost incomprehensible devotion to The Cause, documenting “vanishing” Indian cultures as he challenged stereotypes of people who had been marginalized and defrauded by the larger society. Curtis created the most definitive archive on Native Americans with a series of 20 volumes that was considered, by some, the most important publication since the King James Bible. As Egan points out, this towering achievement is especially surprising in light of Curtis’s humble beginnings and a formal education that ended with sixth grade.
Today, Egan notes, tribes are rediscovering and using the Curtis works to inspire and educate a new generation. And Egan's book about Curtis, published two years ago, is well on its way to claiming an enduring place among tales of Seattle, the Pacific Northwest and the West. Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher is the product of Egan’s extensive archival research as well as arduous travel to many of the locations and tribes studied by Curtis. The book has won praise for its compelling narrative, graceful prose, originality, and humanizing of Curtis and the Native people he photographed and admired. Among other awards, the bestselling biography won the Carnegie Medal for the Best Nonfiction Book of 2012, and also was recognized with starred reviews from Booklist, Kirkus and Publisher’s Weekly. Egan worked for 18 years as a writer for The New York Times, first as the Pacific Northwest correspondent and then as a national enterprise reporter. He continues to write a lively opinion column for the Times. His other books include the National Book Award winning history of the people who lived through the Dust Bowl, The Worst Hard Time, as well as The Big Burn, The Good Rain, Breaking Blue, and Lasso the Wind. Mr. Egan also won the Pulitzer Prize in 2001 as part of a team of reporters who wrote the series How Race Is Lived in America. He lives with his family in Seattle.
For this recent interview, Egan looked back and answered a series of questions by email on the life and times of Edward Curtis.
How did you come to write your sweeping biography? Did it grow out of your previous books on history of the West?
I’d always heard something of Curtis. I think anyone who grows up in the Northwest has seen one of his pictures. They are, in a way, cultural background — just sort of there. But then I started to look into his life story and realized what a masterpiece his life and his work were.
You’ve described Curtis as Seattle’s forgotten Michelangelo. For readers unfamiliar with him, what are a few things you’d like them to know about Curtis?
For starters, the greatest photographic achievement in American history — more than 40,000 pictures, taken largely from cumbersome glass-plate negatives, of native people. The only thing I can compare it to his Mathew Brady’s Civil War pictures, and Brady didn’t take a lot of his photographs. Second, the anthropological achievement: documenting tribal stories, creation myths, dietary habits, etc. [The knowledge is] still used to today. Third, he was the first person to figure out what really happened at the Battle of Little Bighorn, with Custer. Fourth, the technical breakthroughs, from his use of colored lantern slides to his groundbreaking film (In the Land of Head-Hunters — colorized in parts, using all native cast, on location). Finally, perhaps most important, the artistry: capturing faces, traits, the human element of people who’ve been stereotyped.
It’s incredible that Curtis had little formal education but became one of America’s most prominent artists and anthropologists. How did he decide on a life in photography?
Like all obsessives, he got deep into it and could never get out. It started as a bit of a lark, then grew into The Cause, The Lifework. He was up against time, U.S. Government, cultural elites on the East Coast who looked down on him. But the photo world understood, as did the American Indians, that he was doing something special.
What was the role of Chief Seattle’s daughter Princess Angeline in inspiring his project to document the Indian tribes of North America?
She was this vanishing, spectral presence: the “Last Indian” so-called. Curtis was interested in the authentic (mountains, rivers, native people) that was being erased to create this big city. Seattle, by the way, is the biggest city in the world named for a Native American, but for a while they made it a crime for Indians to live within the city limits. (One of the names under consideration for a new King County water taxi is the Princess Angeline; the decision is expected later this month.)
Over the years, Curtis documented the lives of Indians around the continent in the wake of genocide and flagrant efforts to bury their cultures. How did this Curtis gain the trust of members of 80 different tribes?
He took his time. He got to know them, and them him. He was patient. He would come back, time and again, year after year, before taking a photograph.
How did Curtis come to know luminaries such as President Theodore Roosevelt who became his friend and supporter, and the rapacious financier J.P. Morgan who became his patron?
He was charming, and people found him dashing, adventurous, sort of rakish. Roosevelt was impressed at the scope of his work and said the picture that Curtis took of him was the best one anyone ever took. He used it in his autobiography, and a print of it hangs in the Rainier Club. Getting in to see Morgan, and get his financial backing, was just sheer balls. Curtis loved a dare.
Curtis took extreme risks to document Native American life. Are there one or two stories of his daring and perseverance that particularly impressed you?
Floating down the wild, undammed Columbia River — that was a suicide trip, and nearly cost him his life. His car nearly fell over a cliff in Northern California. His horse threw him near the Grand Canyon. It’s amazing he lived to be an old man in his 80s.
Curtis provided evidence that disproved mistaken notions about Indian life held by academics. What are some notable misconceptions that Curtis exposed? Didn’t he interview Indian survivors of Custer’s Last Stand who shed new light on Custer’s leadership?
He was the first person, I believe, to completely figure out the Custer story. But he pulled his punches, and put his report under lock, because [Roosevelt] warned him about consequences (the ever-watchful Mrs. Custer). But he nailed the story. His version was the correct version.
Curtis paid special attention to the Indians of the Northwest and photographed their lives and rituals. What particularly impressed you about his study of the Native Americans of the Northwest?
He loved the way they interacted with the sea. Curtis said early on that “nature must tell the story,” and in the Northwest Indians he saw that, albeit at a time when it was being marginalized. Despite his accomplishments, Curtis had a troubled personal life that you describe vividly.
You mention that Seattle’s exclusive Rainier Club provided a home for Curtis. How did the Rainier Club become a part of his life?
His wife kicked him out. The Club took him in. At first, a distinguished guest, then he paid for his rent at the Club with his masterpieces. As a result, Rainier Club is by default one of the great Curtis galleries in the world.
What did people in Seattle think of Curtis? Were people here aware of the significance of his project on the tribes of North America?
He was a celebrity, probably the best known Seattleite for 30 years, but the people in Seattle didn’t really get what he was up to, with the exception of his good friend [professor of history]
Robin Lindley (firstname.lastname@example.org) is a Seattle writer and attorney, and features editor for the History News Network. His interviews with scholars, writers and artists have appeared in
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Printed on August 25, 2014