Humanity: Will Rogers and the Heart of Good Writing

Analyzing great writing to determine what to emulate is fraught by an immensity of material, the amount of quality critics, and the differing opinions of agents, readers, and fellow writers who say things like:

“Be real.”
“Create tension.”
“Raise the stakes.”
“Avoid (Embrace) controversy.”
“Be concise.”
“Include detail.”
“Write what you know.”
“Be creative…”

Each one proposes, embellishes, and pronounces his/her cases with all the sincerity of Mother Teresa, Mahatma Gandhi, and the Dalai Lama. The wisdom of sage and scholar, authority and entrepreneur, promising and prominent blare from blog and cyber-page in italicized, underlined, and bold-faced type. Then, for added emphasis, these analysts punch the caps-lock key and add a string of exclamation points.

Nowadays, with Twitter, Facebook, Google+, blogs, and a plethora of experts willing to share everything online from plot sculpting to pencil sharpening, the volume of information overwhelms an inquiring writer like being whacked upside the head with a dead carp (to resurrect an old cliché).

The best advice I’ve found to govern my work, however, does not come from any modern authority, but from a superstar of the 1930s famous for his folksy humor, his genuine personality, and his unique and inviting temperament, Will Rogers.

I have to admit I knew little about Rogers before I visited his memorial museum in Claremore, Oklahoma. I had seen his name in quote books, video shorts on YouTube, and collections of his speeches stashed away in the deep, dark corners of independent bookstores in towns the size of mud puddles. The Will Rogers Museum, not far off I44, is a revelation of not only the man, but of his art.

Yes, art. I know people question whether a vaudevillian, circus performer, and rope-twirling movie star can be considered an artist. I contend he was.

Was he one of the world’s innovative, structurally sound, and emotionally evocative writers of all time? No. But his art was not so much what he fixed to the page, but what he added to life during one of America’s most difficult periods, the Great Depression.

Like many people today, I had heard of Rogers, particularly his famous saying, “I never met a man I didn’t like.” Like most people, I too scoffed at its naiveté. “Oh, come on. He had to dislike somebody,” we say. “Everybody hates somebody.”

After attending his memorial, I’m not sure Rogers did.

The museum and its displays do an excellent job of transforming a long-deceased radio and movie star into a living, breathing, compassionate human being. Here was a man who took humanity seriously, but not himself. A genuine man who acknowledged his shortcomings and sought to be better. A man who loved family, friends, and people of all races, political persuasions, and economic status. A man you want to know.

As easy as it would be, Claremore does not deify Rogers, nor does a visitor get the impression he would he want that. His self-deprecating humor was one the many qualities that endeared him to millions of people worldwide. Even his famous quote above, as deep and profound as it sounds, was a part of a joke: “When I die, my epitaph, or whatever you call those signs on gravestones, is going to read: ‘I joked about every prominent man of my time, but I never met a man I didn’t like.’ I am so proud of that, I can hardly wait to die so it can be carved.”

Rogers’ humility, his sincerity, and his sense of humor made him one of the greatest celebrities of his time. What makes him important to the people of today is his ability to observe the human condition. Amazing to 21^st century citizens are his remarks about America nearly a century ago that speak as much truth today. For examples, check the list examples on the Will Rogers Quotes page. An important maxim there for writers states, “It’s great to be great, but it’s greater to be human.” 

So astute.

We can comb all the information in the world to direct our careers, but even the greatest we find means nothing unless we use it to make our characters, our narrators, and ourselves human. After all, our readers are human. At least, most of them.

Most impressive about the displays and programs at Claremore is that when you hear Rogers speak, when you read the testimonials of rich and common people alike, when you see the outpouring of emotion from people of ever rank and profession concerning his work, his life, and his death, your realize this was a man above the common rabble. Here was the type of celebrity, spokesman, and leader the world needs today.