Showing posts with label Doris Kearns Goodwin plagiarist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Doris Kearns Goodwin plagiarist. Show all posts

Monday, May 12, 2014

I'm accused of lying about my credentials

 The invitation to the most important speaking engagement I’d booked this year was withdrawn as a result of scandal. The organization, which said I’d be addressing about 80 attendees, accused me of lying about my credentials.

I was incredulous. Me? Lie?

Why, I haven’t told a real whopper that didn’t involve me trying to get laid since, gee, late 2013.

This story has — for now, at least — a happy ending so try and pull yourself together.

I’m going to obscure some of the facts to keep from embarrassing anyone involved, but here’s the crux of the inflammatory charge: Officers for the organization said I never taught at Point Park University.

Teaching creative non-fiction there from about 2007-2011 is one of my most proud achievements. I earned glowing student evaluations and am still honored to serve a mentoring role to some students with exemplary accomplishments.

Alleging I never taught there is like alleging I’m not a Steeler fan.

It’s a core part of my existence.

So who would dare charge I never taught creative non-fiction at Point Park University?

It was a professor who taught creative non-fiction at Point Park University and she’d never heard of me.

Clearly, I was going to need someone like Perry Mason to defend me.

Or maybe local attorney/TV star Edgar Snyder. Remember, he doesn’t get paid unless he gets money for you!

With impeccable credentials like my accuser’s, I began to wonder if maybe I’d imagined the whole thing. And although she’d never admit it, I’ll bet the same thoughts flashed through Val’s mind, too. 

She’s seen enough Lifetime movies to know some simple-appearing lives can explode before the second commercial break when it is revealed a straying husband is leading a double life. He has another wife, two more kids, a dog here, a cat there — and the cheating bastard is always more successful and handsome than the schlep Val married.

But I don’t have a double life, I swear. Heck, add it all up and I barely have a single life.

And she’s met some of my students and heard them praise me. Happened just last month. One of my best students and the only one who’d earned an A+ came to visit for a night in Latrobe.

We had a real ball and I was gracious enough to let her sleep on the bed in my office.

Now, hold on.

That’s a titillating little lie planted just to get your mind racing. My student was a guy. I just dropped the wrong pronoun to see how many of you watch Lifetime chick flicks.

Val even came out for drinks with Matt and I.

If I was leading a double life it was an elaborate one, going to the trouble as I did to have an “actor” come out posing as one of my former students.

And imagine for a moment just how creative and duplicitous a guy I’d be if I could pull that off. Val might even approve of such self-starter chutzpah in a guy she’s  long believed to be lazy and ambition-free.

Still, I was stung at the chance I would lose this speaking opportunity over a baseless charge. I responded with the names of the people who hired me, the colleagues with whom I worked and the name of the River City Inn bartender who’d inebriate me and my students on the nights when I got tired of talking.

And I prevailed. They realized I had, in fact, taught creative non-fiction at Point Park University.

It’s just that I did it within the journalism discipline, not English, as my counterpart does.

She wrote me a graciously apologetic note explaining the misunderstanding and assuring me that all was well.

But the flap has for me been inspirational.

I really ought to include some colorful lies in my humble bio (see below).

It always pisses me off to see many of our renown plagiarists and resume fibbers do so much better than I, a no-account blogger with irrational integrity.

Maybe I ought to swap Point Park for, say, Harvard.

It would certainly eliminate the possibility that many of the people with whom I’m dealing would have “Gotcha!” moment regarding my credentials.

And I have been to Harvard. I got lost on my way to Fenway in 2003.

Yes, if I can get into trouble about my history with creative non-fiction, maybe it’s time to try some creative fiction.



Bio:

Chris Rodell is the Latrobe, Pennsylvania–based author of “Use All The Crayons! The Colorful Guide to Simple Human Happiness." He has taught creative nonfiction at Point Park University in Pittsburgh. He’s written features and essays for Esquire, Cooking Light, People, Maxim, Men’s Health, Playboy, Golf, Details, and Arnold Palmer’s Kingdom magazine. His travel stories have been published by more than 100 top newspapers including The Chicago Tribune, The Dallas Morning News, The Miami Herald and the London Independent. He blogs at www.EightDaysToAmish.com  He has written for many of the most prestigious magazines in America and been rejected by the rest. He will write for anyone who’ll pay him. He is a PROSEtitute. 


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Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! A Gettysburg success


Sitting there freezing our butts off about 300 feet from where Abraham Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg Address, I wondered if Lincoln lied.

Maybe all men aren’t created equal.

If we were, then how come I had to wait about 90 minutes in the cold to hear Steven Spielberg speak?

It eventually dawned on me that all men and women are created equal, but many of us spend the ensuing years goofing off, getting drunk, sleeping in or cutting short productive work hours so we can race home in time to watch Drew Carey announce the Showcase Showdown on “The Price is Right.”

We have our priorities.

As a filmmaker, Spielberg is without equal. It was a thrill to be among the 9,000 or so attendees at the Gettysburg Soldiers National Cemetery on Monday as part of the 149th Remembrance Day activities.

And he gave a great speech, as did historian Doris Kearns Goodwin -- and that’s a difficult compliment for me to bestow upon an avowed plagiarist.

I’m always amazed at the effect being near a celebrity has on me. As Spielberg walked out, he gave a dapper bow then spent considerable time scanning the audience. 

I straightened up, put my arm around my daughter and drilled him with eye contact.

I was hoping Spielberg would notice me and think, “Now, there’s a clear-eyed young go-getter. Brings his daughter to Gettysburg! No doubt a man of substance. Probably a responsible social drinker like myself. I wonder if he’s a writer. I’m going to approach him and introduce myself.”

If the great director thought this, he didn’t act upon it.

I thought momentarily about writing the premise of my unpublished novel on a piece of paper and tossing it to him as he concluded his speech.

But it was a bit windy so I’d have had to wrap the note around a heavy rock. And me tossing a rock at Steven Spielberg during his speech would have certainly drawn security.

And by security, I’m not talking about the several thousand bayonet-armed Civil War re-creators. On each side of the stage were two severe-looking men in overcoats who looked like today’s Secret Service agents minus the eyes filled with 21st century hooker lust.

I guess maybe they were there to prevent a John Wilkes Booth re-enactor from assassinating the Abraham Lincoln re-enactor.

I’m happy to report our daddy-daughter weekend exceeded my fondest hopes and expectations. It was marvelous.

History-rich Gettysburg is one of America’s greatest small towns. It is filled with wonderful restaurants, museums, book shops and according to Josie, 12, the world’s greatest candy store. It’s “Sweeet!” at 100 Baltimore Street, home of the two-foot-long gummi earth worm.

Yum! Yum! Yum!

I think years from now I’ll look back on this weekend as the one where I succeeded in ways General Robert E. Lee did not.

Our tasks were similar. We needed to conquer a resilient combatant on foreign soil against long odds.

With Lee it was the Union army.

With me, I was trying to bond over history with a 12-year-old girl who dearly loves her mother and iCarly (in mostly that order) and spent the first morning morose at the unbidden separation.

But as our days filled with activities, she began to brighten and by the middle of a three-hour battlefield tour, the tide had turned. Our expert guide was teaching us how equestrian statuary can be used to discern the rider’s battlefield mortality when Josie asked if she could use my iPhone.

I trembled. Was she going to text call Mommy she was bored? Disperse Facebook ridicule?

No.

She wanted to take notes.

OMG!

She was so inspired by what she was learning she began taking lengthy notes to remind her of stories she will this week share with her class. 

My heart swells with pride. I have forged a creative bond with her that will endure and strengthen throughout our lives.

All men are created equal; mothers and fathers are not. 

Biological imperatives mean fathers of daughters are destined to be parental punchlines. The advantage will always reside with the female because in the eyes of our children, mothers suckle while dads just suck.

Like it or not, that’s the way it is.

And this Dad’s truth goes marching on.


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