Ron Chernow

Washington A Life Ron Chernow Penguin Press: 906 pp., $40 On Dec. 14, 1799, an ominous, fog-like gloom hung over Mount Vernon. Sixty-seven-year-old George Washington was dying. The ex-president, his doctors believed, was suffering from "quinsy" (a throat inflammation). In fact, Washington had contracted a vicious bacterial infection. His windpipe was swollen shut. Washington may have defeated the British at the Battle of Yorktown in 1781, but an inflamed epiglottis got the best of him in 1799.

Washington A Life Ron Chernow Penguin Press: 906 pp., $40 On Dec. 14, 1799, an ominous, fog-like gloom hung over Mount Vernon. Sixty-seven-year-old George Washington was dying. The ex-president, his doctors believed, was suffering from "quinsy" (a throat inflammation). In fact, Washington had contracted a vicious bacterial infection. His windpipe was swollen shut. Washington may have defeated the British at the Battle of Yorktown in 1781, but an inflamed epiglottis got the best of him in 1799.

When Frederick Morton published his landmark biography of the Rothschilds in 1966, the economy was vigorous, interest rates were attractive and savings-and-loan organizations enjoyed a robust reputation. Today the engine is in reverse, and few depositors would disagree with Mark Twain's definition of a banker as "a fellow who lends his umbrella when the sun is shining and wants it back the minute it begins to rain."

We carry his face in our wallets, on the 10-dollar bill; we know he was killed in a duel 200 years ago this July by Vice President Aaron Burr. Yet in the present Founders' revival, Alexander Hamilton -- bastard, immigrant, adulterer, genius, journalist, begetter of our prosperity -- has so far escaped a full-dress treatment. Now, Ron Chernow, whose previous books have chronicled the American Beauty roses and kudzu vines of mature American capitalism -- Warburgs, Morgans, John D. Rockefeller Sr.

I was really amused at the photographs in the Oct. 17 Book Review section. Ron Chernow, William Gibson and Richard Reeves--all with contemplative hands to heads. A photographer's idea of how writers should look? Gibson and Chernow are probably contemplating nothing more rousing than a haircut, and Reeves undoubted can't remember where he put his keys! FRANCES HALPERN, MONTECITO

There is, in the National Portrait Gallery, a paleplaster bust of a sag-shouldered man with snaky eyes, sunken cheeks and straitened lips. If the sculpture weren't labeled, you might never guess that this wizened little guy was John D. Rockefeller Sr.--the ruthless 19th century American kerosene king who made millions and built an oil-refining monopoly by conspiring with railroads, quashing the competition, bribing government officials and skirting the law.

We carry his face in our wallets, on the 10-dollar bill; we know he was killed in a duel 200 years ago this July by Vice President Aaron Burr. Yet in the present Founders' revival, Alexander Hamilton -- bastard, immigrant, adulterer, genius, journalist, begetter of our prosperity -- has so far escaped a full-dress treatment. Now, Ron Chernow, whose previous books have chronicled the American Beauty roses and kudzu vines of mature American capitalism -- Warburgs, Morgans, John D. Rockefeller Sr.

Who, except for the historians, should care about the era of John D. Rockefeller Sr., J.P. Morgan and Andrew Carnegie today? After all, how could that time (and they) be anything but dimly relevant to our own?

Bankers have never been popular and are often blamed for everything. In the last century, several states actually banned bankers, the way they might outlaw nude dancers or firecracker salesmen today. Texas didn't lift its ban on bankers until 1904. (Note: Given the number of bank and S&L fraud cases currently pending, perhaps Texas should reconsider.) For their part, bankers have done their best to be as secretive, aloof and uncommunicative with the general public as possible.

The historical novel, "Middle Passage," which chronicles the journey of a freed African slave returning to his homeland, won the 1990 National Book Award competition for fiction Tuesday night. Charles Johnson, an English professor at the University of Washington, wrote the book, which takes place in the 1830s and tells the story of a terrifying voyage taken by the slave en route to his native Africa on a clipper ship. It was published by Atheneum.

There is, in the National Portrait Gallery, a paleplaster bust of a sag-shouldered man with snaky eyes, sunken cheeks and straitened lips. If the sculpture weren't labeled, you might never guess that this wizened little guy was John D. Rockefeller Sr.--the ruthless 19th century American kerosene king who made millions and built an oil-refining monopoly by conspiring with railroads, quashing the competition, bribing government officials and skirting the law.

Who, except for the historians, should care about the era of John D. Rockefeller Sr., J.P. Morgan and Andrew Carnegie today? After all, how could that time (and they) be anything but dimly relevant to our own?

I was really amused at the photographs in the Oct. 17 Book Review section. Ron Chernow, William Gibson and Richard Reeves--all with contemplative hands to heads. A photographer's idea of how writers should look? Gibson and Chernow are probably contemplating nothing more rousing than a haircut, and Reeves undoubted can't remember where he put his keys! FRANCES HALPERN, MONTECITO

When Frederick Morton published his landmark biography of the Rothschilds in 1966, the economy was vigorous, interest rates were attractive and savings-and-loan organizations enjoyed a robust reputation. Today the engine is in reverse, and few depositors would disagree with Mark Twain's definition of a banker as "a fellow who lends his umbrella when the sun is shining and wants it back the minute it begins to rain."

Bankers have never been popular and are often blamed for everything. In the last century, several states actually banned bankers, the way they might outlaw nude dancers or firecracker salesmen today. Texas didn't lift its ban on bankers until 1904. (Note: Given the number of bank and S&L fraud cases currently pending, perhaps Texas should reconsider.) For their part, bankers have done their best to be as secretive, aloof and uncommunicative with the general public as possible.

Bob Dylan, the unofficial poet laureate of the rock 'n' roll generation, has now been officially placed alongside such literary greats as Philip Roth and Adrienne Rich, not to mention biographers of Shakespeare and Willem de Kooning. All were among nominees announced Saturday for the National Book Critics Circle prizes. Dylan, whose memoir "Chronicles, Volume One" was a favorite with reviewers and readers, is among the finalists in the biography/autobiography category.

Bob Dylan, whose memoir "Chronicles, Vol. I" is nominated for a National Book Critics Circle prize, will probably be too busy with his day job to attend the March 18 ceremony. "Bob Dylan is honored by the NBCC nomination; however, he'll be on a concert tour in March," Simon & Schuster spokeswoman Victoria Meyer said Tuesday. Meyer added that the publisher would "work with his office to see if there's any way he can come to the NBCC ceremony."