Joseph Mitchell’s “Professor Seagull” a profile on Joe Gould, a Village bohemian with many identities, as well as his second profile on the same man “Joe Gould’s Secret,” startled and humored me in ways a young reporter can only dream of.
While reading Mitchell’s first profile of Gould, I was curious about how he pitched the idea to his editor at The New Yorker—from profiling a nocturnal wanderer to a colorful story of a bohemian. It certainly was quite a challenge to keep tabs on Mr. Gould. He could have been any reporter’s nightmare…or dream.
Mitchell did a fantastic job at painting a portrait of Gould, using his journalistic skills to include colorful quotes and descriptions of the man with a book eleven times longer than the Bible, or so he says. (My most favorite description of Gould included the loads of ketchup he collected in diners, though he didn’t really like the stuff.)
Mitchell paid attention to the details and that is why his writing style in “Joe Gould’s Secret” as well as “Professor Seagull” proves to be timeless. With names of streets and places across New York, Mitchell tells a story of a man who still seems like he could be a member of the city today.
More importantly, as a reporter Mitchell was able to connect and be patient with Mr. Gould—which I believe was critical to tackling the story of such a fleeting, quirky personality.
While I saw less of Mitchell’s personality and opinion of Gould in his first profile, it became quite clear that he was driven to write his second profile of the same man because of the never-ending relationship and responsibility Mitchell had with his subject Gould.
Mitchell was earnest and even poetic:
I suddenly felt a surge of genuine respect for Gould. He had declined to stay in Norwood and live out his life as Pee Wee Gould, the town fool. If he had to play the fool he would do it on a larger stage, before a friendlier audience. He came to Greenwich Village and had found a mask for himself, and he had put it on and kept it on. The Eccentric Author of a Great, Mysterious, Unpublished Book—that was his mask. And, hiding behind it, he had created a character a good deal more complicated, it seemed to me, than most of the characters created by the novelists and playwrights of his time.”
I was not surprised when Mitchell found out Gould’s “Oral History” did not exist. But I certainly was surprised at Mitchell’s response in the excerpt above. I might have been quite upset, writing a profile for readers who later donated money so Gould could continue schlepping throughout the village collecting histories for his supposed book…buried in a duck and chicken farm in Long Island!
Mitchell was indeed upset with Gould after contacting editor friends to speak with Gould about publishing his “Oral History,” but he became captivated by Gould’s true story, which was not the mysterious book, but what it represented.
Though Mitchell grew frustrated with Gould at times. He very well could be nominated as one of the toughest subjects a reporter could choose. Gould had an unpredictable schedule, never-ending rants about himself, orders like switching his permanent mailing address to The New Yorker, and unexpected visits to Mitchell’s office with a hangover.
Though Mitchell made a transition in “Joe Gould’s Secret” as a dedicated reporter catering to Gould’s every whim, sitting to hear his “Oral History” for ten hour shifts at a time, to Mitchell as a believer.
As a young reporter, one can aspire to handle a situation like this: to be as patient and as tactical and as human as Mitchell was with his subject Joe Gould. He was a subject who many believed in and helped. And even though it is the job of a reporter to write the truth, Mitchell was tasked to write the profile of a deeper personality, one who had a mask.
The second time around—Mitchell got his profile of Joe Gould completely.
