There are reports surfacing that Sam Tanenhaus has attended tonight’s Edgar Awards ceremony.
Also, it would appear that there are some rebels working against the live-blogging ban.
There are reports surfacing that Sam Tanenhaus has attended tonight’s Edgar Awards ceremony.
Also, it would appear that there are some rebels working against the live-blogging ban.
Ever since discovering radio evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson in Kevin Starr’s invaluable California history books years ago, I’ve long been fascinated by her. McPherson is often a forgotten historical figure: a woman who built up a mass audience by preaching her gospel through the radio, but who didn’t entirely hold herself to the same standards, which involved a decidedly less pure “kidnapping” that had troubling evidential contradictions. She created the Angelus Temple, a $1.5 million edifice financed entirely by donations and still existing today. She proved so charismatic that she even charmed H.L. Mencken.
In fact, I have a file with notes and an outline for a play centered around her staged disappearance from Venice Beach. One of these days, I will find the time to write it.
The kidnapping got serious press and even inspired Upton Sinclair to compose a poem. McPherson emerged later in Mexico, claiming that she had hiked many miles back to civilization. Alas, there were no scuff marks on her shoes. There was McPherson’s troubling involvement with a married man — an engineer by the name of Kenneth G. Ormiston. Ormiston, however, was a gentleman and kept his tongue firmly unflapped. Despite the shaky evidence available to a grand jury and public scrutiny over this “publicity stunt,” McPherson’s ministry carried on.
For those who wish to learn more about this fascinating pioneer, there’s now a new biography available about McPherson from Matthew Sutton, which John Updike has reviewed in the latest issue of the New Yorker.
Scott Esposito, who before moving to Mexico was once referred to in certain quarters as the Sexiest Man in Oakland and who remains, at least according to certain reports, a polite decliner of French kisses, has made his debut in the Philly Inquirer. He reviews Robert BolaƱo’s The Savage Detectives.