I have to admit that I find many biographies hard to wade through — especially those written in scholarly style and with footnotes on every page. On the other hand, I find autobiographies fascinating. An autobiography tells you the words a person used, the way he or she saw the world and (if you read between the lines) all about the times in which the person lived.
Here are some of my favorites:
“A Narrative of the Life of David Crockett of the State of Tennessee” (1834)
It is hard to know how accurate Crockett’s autobiography is since the man had a tendency to stretch the truth, and we don’t know how much of it was embellished by his ghost writer. But I do think the phrases and jokes in the book are authentic. They have made me laugh out loud more than once.
For instance, Crockett mentions a woman he met who was “well enough to smartness, but she was as ugly as a stone fence.” He admits that as the years passed, he was “better at increasing my family than my fortune.” And speeches in Congress, Crockett claims, are so boring that “it’s harder than splitting gum logs in August to stay awake.”
“Company Aytch: Or A Sideshow of the Big Show” (1900)
Sam Watkins’ book about life as a soldier in the Confederate Army is one of the most touching personal accounts of any private in any war. In one unforgettable passage, he describes being forced to watch the execution of two U.S. Army soldiers accused of spying on the Confederacy:
“The two little boys were rushed upon the platform. I saw that they were handcuffed. ‘Are they spies?’ I was appalled; I was horrified; nay, more, I was sick at heart. One was about fourteen and the other about sixteen years old, I should judge. The ropes were promptly adjusted around their necks by the Provost Marshal. The youngest one began to beg and cry and plead most piteously. It was horrid. The older one kicked him, and told him to stand up and show the Rebels how a Union man could die for his country. Be a man! The charges and specifications were then read. The props were knocked out and the two boys were dangling in the air. I turned off, sick at heart.”
“Crusade for Justice: The Autobiography of Ida B. Wells” (1970)
Ida Wells fought racial injustice in the South more than 130 years ago, but her autobiography reads like it was written last month. One of the most compelling stories predates her role in the early civil rights movement. In this scene, she describes what happened after her parents died, when several men stood in her family’s house and decided that all of her younger brothers and sisters would be scattered to other households to be cared for. Wells later recalled:
“When all this had been arranged to their satisfaction, I, who said nothing before and had not even been consulted, calmly announced that they were not going to put any of the children anywhere; I said that it would make my father and mother turn over in their graves to know their children had been scattered like that and that we owned the house and if the Masons would help me find work, I would take care of them.”
The 14-year-old Ida Wells found a job as a teacher and managed to keep her brothers and sisters together.
“Father of the Blues: An Autobiography” by W.C. Handy (1941)
I read this book last year and was amused by the fact that W.C. Handy’s father went to great lengths to stop his son from having a career in music — including making young W.C. return a guitar he bought with money he saved up. “Take it away, I tell you!” Charles Handy told his son. “Get it out of your hands. Whatever possessed you to bring a sinful thing like that into our Christian home?”Since W.C. Handy turned out to be one the great composer/musicians of his era, this anecdote did make me wonder whether we modern-day parents have it all wrong. If we want our kids to grow up to be great musicians, should we maybe refuse to let them bring a musical instrument into the house? It worked for Charles Handy.
Civil rights leader Myles Horton says in his autobiography, “I took the gamble of doing something about a moral problem instead of simply talking a