NEW YORK — Tom Wolfe, the white-suited wizard of “New Journalism” who exuberantly chronicled American culture fromthe Merry Pranksters through the space race before turning his satiric wit to such novels as “The Bonfire of the Vanities” and“A Man in Full,” has died. He was 88.
Wolfe’s literary agent, Lynn Nesbit, told The Associated Press that he died of an infection Monday in a New York Cityhospital. Further details were not immediately available.
An acolyte of French novelist Emile Zola and other authors of “realistic” fiction, the stylishly-attired Wolfe was an Americanmaverick who insisted that the only way to tell a great story was to go out and report it. Along with Gay Talese, TrumanCapote and Nora Ephron, he helped demonstrate that journalism could offer the kinds of literary pleasure found in books.
His hyperbolic, stylized writing work was a gleeful fusillade of exclamation points, italics and improbable words. Aningenious phrase maker, he helped brand such expressions as “radical chic” for rich liberals’ fascination withrevolutionaries; and the “Me” generation, defining the self-absorbed baby boomers of the 1970s.
Wolfe was both a literary upstart, sneering at the perceived stuffiness of the publishing establishment, and an old-schoolgentleman who went to the best schools and encouraged Michael Lewis and other younger writers. When attendingpromotional luncheons with fellow authors, he would make a point of reading their latest work.
“What I hope people know about him is that he was a sweet and generous man,” Lewis, known for such books as“Moneyball” and “The Big Short,” told the AP in an email Tuesday. “Not just a great writer but a great soul. He didn’t justhelp me to become a writer. He did it with pleasure.”
Wolfe scorned the reluctance of American writers to confront social issues and warned that self-absorption and master’sprograms would kill the novel. “So the doors close and the walls go up!” he wrote in his 1989 literary manifesto, “Stalkingthe Billion-Footed Beast.” He was astonished that no author of his generation had written a sweeping, 19th century stylenovel about contemporary New York City, and ended up writing one himself, “The Bonfire of the Vanities.”
His work broke countless rules but was grounded in old-school journalism, in an obsessive attention to detail that beganwith his first reporting job and endured for decades.
“Nothing fuels the imagination more than real facts do,” Wolfe told the AP in 1999. “As the saying goes, ‘You can’t makethis stuff up.’”
Wolfe’s interests were vast, but his narratives had a common theme. Whether sending up the New York art world or hangingout with acid heads, Wolfe inevitably presented man as a status-seeking animal, concerned above all about the opinion ofone’s peers. Wolfe himself dressed for company — his trademark a pale three-piece suit, impossibly high shirt collar, two-tone shoes and a silk tie. And he acknowledged that he cared — very much — about his reputation.
“My contention is that status is on everybody’s mind all of the time, whether they’re conscious of it or not,” Wolfe, who livedin a 12-room apartment on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, told the AP in 2012.
In 1978, Wolfe married Sheila Berger, art director of Harper’s magazine. They had two children, Alexandra and Tommy.
He enjoyed the highest commercial and critical rewards. His literary honours included the American Book Award (now calledthe National Book Award) for “The Right Stuff” and a nomination for the National Book Critics Circle prize for “The Bonfire ofthe Vanities,” one of the top 10 selling books of the 1980s. Its 1998 follow-up, “A Man in Full,” was another bestseller anda National Book Award nominee. Wolfe satirized college misbehaviour in “I Am Charlotte Simmons” and was still at it in his80s with “Back to Blood,” a sprawling, multicultural story of sex and honour set in Miami.
A panel of judges organized in 1999 by the Modern Library, a Random House imprint, picked “The Right Stuff” as No. 52 onits list of the century’s 100 best English-language works of nonfiction. Another panel of experts, listing the best journalismof the century, cited Wolfe three times on its list of 100, for “The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test,” ”The Kandy-KoloredTangerine-Flake Streamline Baby” and “The Right Stuff.”
Wolfe, the grandson of a Confederate rifleman, began his journalism career as a reporter at the Springfield (Massachusetts)Union in 1957. But it wasn’t until the mid-1960s, while a magazine writer for New York and Esquire, that his work madehim a national trendsetter. As Wolfe helped define it, the “new journalism” combined the emotional impact of a novel, theanalysis of the best essays, and the factual foundation of hard reporting. He mingled it all in an over-the-top style thatmade life itself seem like one spectacular headline.
“She is gorgeous in the most outrageous way,” he wrote in a typical piece, describing actress-socialite Baby Jane Holzer.
“Her hair rises up from her head in a huge hairy corona, a huge tan mane around a narrow face and two eyes opened —swock! — like umbrellas, with all that hair flowing down over a coat made of … zebra! Those motherless stripes!”
Wolfe travelled during the ’60s with Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters for his book on the psychedelic culture, “TheElectric Kool-Aid Acid Test.” One of his best-known magazine pieces, “Radical Chic: That Party at Lenny’s,” took a pointedlook at fundraising for the Black Panther Party by Leonard Bernstein and other wealthy whites. And no one more memorablycaptured the beauty-and-the-beast divide between the Beatles and the Rolling Stones: “The Beatles want to hold yourhand,” he wrote, “but the Rolling Stones want to burn down your town!”
Wolfe had many detractors — including fellow writers Norman Mailer and John Updike and the critic James Wood, whopanned Wolfe’s “big subjects, big people, and yards of flapping exaggeration. No one of average size emerges from hisshop; in fact, no real human variety can be found in his fiction, because everyone has the same enormous excitability.”
But his fans included millions of book-buyers, literary critics and fellow authors.
“He knows everything,” novelist Kurt Vonnegut once wrote of Wolfe. “… I wish he had headed the Warren Commission. Wemight then have caught a glimpse of our nation.”
Thomas Kennerly Wolfe Jr. was born in Richmond, Virginia. As a child, he did rewrites of the Authurian legends and pennedbiographies of his heroes. He became co-editor of his high school newspaper before moving on to Washington and LeeUniversity, where he graduated with honours and was remembered by fellow student, the novelist Tom Robbins, as holdingthe very highest status: the big man on campus.
Wolfe had an unsuccessful pitching tryout with the New York Giants before heading to Yale University, from which heearned a Ph.D. in American studies. His career didn’t immediately take off; Wolfe once took The Associated Press writingtest and “dismally failed,” he later recounted, noting that he was faulted for embellishing the test material, a primal sin atthe AP.
But in 1957, he joined the Springfield paper and instantly fell in love with journalism. Two years later he jumped to TheWashington Post, where he won Washington Newspaper Guild awards in 1960 for his coverage of U.S.-Cuban affairs and asatiric account of that year’s Senate civil rights filibuster.
New York was his dream and by 1962 he was working at the now defunct New York Herald-Tribune, with colleaguesincluding Jimmy Breslin and Charles Portis, who later wrote the novel “True Grit.” The next year, Wolfe was assigned tocover a “Hot Rod & Custom Car” show. He completed a story, the kind “any of the somnambulistic totem newspapers inAmerica would have come up with.”
But he knew there was a much richer, and longer story to tell, one about a thriving subculture that captured the post-WorldWar II economic boom and the new freedom to “build monuments” to one’s own style. No newspaper could contain whatWolfe had in mind, so he turned to Esquire magazine, wrote up 49 pages and helped give birth to a new kind of reporter.
“For the who-what-where-when-why of traditional journalism, he has substituted what he calls ‘the wowie!’” according to a1965 Newsweek story.
That same year, his first book appeared: “The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby,” a collection of 23 Wolfearticles that included the title piece, his seminal work on custom cars. In 1968, another collection — “The Pump-HouseGang” — appeared, as did his book on the Pranksters.
It wasn’t until the early ’80s that Wolfe turned his attention to fiction. His topic: New York City in the late 20th century, amelange of sexual tension, class struggles and racial animus. “The Bonfire of the Vanities” first appeared as a serial in“Rolling Stone” magazine in 1984-85, with Wolfe writing the book one chapter at a time. When it was released as a novel in1987, “Bonfire” became an immediate sensation even as it was criticized for its portrayal of blacks. One black character, thepublicity-seeking Reverend Bacon, was based on a then-little known Al Sharpton. But a film version starring Tom Hanks andBruce Willis was so disastrous that it inspired a nonfiction account of the wreckage, Julie Salomon’s “The Devil’s Candy.”
“A Man in Full” turned Wolfe’s smirk to Atlanta society. His 2004 novel, “I Am Charlotte Simmons,” looked at life on afictional elite college campus rife with drinking, status obsession and sex. The book received poor reviews and was acommercial disappointment, leading Wolfe to switch publishers in 2008 from Farrar, Straus & Giroux — where he had beenfor 40 years — to Little, Brown and Company. Other recent works, including the nonfiction “The Kingdom of Speech,” werenot well received. But he was never without ideas for future projects.
“There are still so many things I don’t know about the city and I’d just like to see what’s out there,” he told the AP in 2012.“The Latin American population has increased enormously since ‘Bonfire’ and Wall Street has changed enormously. I’ll follow my usual technique of just taking in a scene and seeing what happens.”
Former Associated Press writer Larry McShane contributed to this report.
Hillel Italie, The Associated Press