Communications

Details, details!

Marshall McLuhan (July, 1948, age 37).  Finkelstein versus McLuhan.

My son, Eric, brought to my attention a slim volume of criticism on my books, Sense & Nonsense of McLuhan, by one Sidney Finkelstein.  In it Finkelstein alleges a good deal of nonsense and it would appear no sense.

The lamenting and lamentable Finkelstein, is caught up with details.  That’s not my bag.  However, I cannot resist pointing out that on page 17 he gets a detail wrong himself.  He writes, “Another great media revolutionist to McLuhan was Johann Gutenberg, who printed a Latin Bible from movable type in Mainz in 1437. (sic)“  Dates are not my strong point, but I think Finkelstein got that one wrong.  I’m a word man not a numbers man, myself.  For example, as Corinne keeps reminding me, I can never seem to remember the kids’ birthdays.    

Me (February 2010, age 57).  How important are the details?

The details would appear to be, although I am not an expert on the early book:  1436 is the year Gutenberg and his partner, Andreas Dritzehn, first started work on printing by movable type.  And the Mainz bible was not printed until 1454 or 1455.  But what does it matter 1436, 1437, 1454, 1455?

Mistakes in detail bothered McLuhan’s critics.  Why?  Scholars generally believe that errors in small things suggest the possibility of errors in big things.  They reveal a failure in seriousness – that you do not care enough to get them right.  And they worry about errors a great deal.  One professor of mine once offered to pay a dollar (a dollar was worth a good deal more then than it is now) for every mistake we could find in one of his textbooks.  It is amazing the number of errors you will find in any book, if you examine it closely.

In general Marshall McLuhan did not worry about details, although he could be a stickler for some details.  For example in the 1970s he insisted that his students refer to the “divisions” of rhetoric rather than the “parts” of rhetoric.  Details or facts, I seem to recall he once said somewhere, should never be allowed to interfere with the truth.

(More on McLuhan’s critics tomorrow.)

Do you sweat the small stuff?  Is it small stuff?

Cordially, Marshall and Me

Reading for this post

Sidney Finkelstein.  Sense & Nonsense of McLuhan, New York:  International Publishers, 1968.

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Michael Hinton Friday, February 12th, 2010 1930s and 40s, Education No Comments

Inviting, confronting, and ignoring criticism

Marshall McLuhan (July, 1948, age 37).  Everybody’s a critic!

Ted Carpenter is a breath of fresh air.  With him at St. Michael’s Toronto is getting less parochial with every passing second.  Last night he had my darling wife Corinne in stitches at dinner.  He was lecturing he told us at the university on the sexual practices of the natives of Polynesia.  Apparently he upset the tender sensibilities of one of the more prudish co-eds in the class, and she walked out in disgust.  “No need to hurry,” he shouted after her, “there’s plenty of time to book your ship to the islands.”  Between giggles Corinne remarked that perhaps Ted was too hard on the girl.  I looked over at him.  “See Ted, everybody’s a critic.”

Me (February 2010, age 57):  Perhaps not everybody.  But there certainly were a lot!

Ted Carpenter and Marshall McLuhan met at Toronto in 1948.  They became close friends and worked together closely on the study of media in the 1950s and most of the 1960s.  Carpenter was known for his volubility, an ability to rub people the wrong way, and a wicked sense of humour – a teacher at a Catholic college he built up according to Phillip Marchand, “the largest collection of books on the devil and diabolism in Canada.”  Not surprisingly, he and McLuhan developed a large number of enemies at the university.  Anyone who has taught at a university knows this is not hard to do, but Carpenter and McLuhan seemed to have had a gift for it.  One of Carpenter’s favorite gambits, for example, was that when an enemy came in the common room and a chair was open beside him he would catch the man’s eye and at the same time, slowly tip the chair over.  McLuhan preferred to ignore his critics.  “Come on Ted,” he used to say, “if this is what we’re up against, we’re destined for kudos.”

And, of course, they were.  (More on McLuhan’s critics tomorrow.)

How do you deal with your critics?  Head on like Carpenter?  Or forget about them, like McLuhan?

Cordially, Marshall and Me

Reading for this post

Phillip Marchand.  Marshall McLuhan:  The medium and the messenger, 1989, p. 124-125.

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Michael Hinton Thursday, February 11th, 2010 1930s and 40s, Communication, Education No Comments

What rubbish!

Marshall McLuhan (July, 1969, age 58). There’s no such thing as bad advertising.

It has seemed obvious to me, because it is grounded on observation, that “persons grouped around a fire or candle or warmth or light are less able to pursue independent tasks, than persons supplied with electricity.”  It has come to my attention, thanks to the sharp eyes and ears of my son Eric that Dame Rebecca West this month announced to the English Association in her presidential address that this observation is “rubbish!”  “Why,” she said, “should anybody listen to the writer of this sentence?”  Well, as I told Eric, evidently I can piss off some of the people some of the time, but fortunately I very much doubt if I can piss off all of the people all of the time.  No matter, what evidently pisses off the sainted Dame Rebecca is that people are listening to me.      

Me (February 2010, age 57).  What was her problem?

Marshall McLuhan carefully collected everything that was written about him.  Good and bad.  Boxes and boxes of books, magazines, off prints, clippings.  He sorted this material by topic into folders intending one day to use it in the revision of his books.  Although it is not clear how much revision he actually achieved.  In conversation, however, it is clear that his usual response to criticism was to ignore it.  Famously, in response to the criticism of Robert Merton at a scholarly seminar at Columbia University, he said, “Don’t like those ideas?  I got others.”  And his trademark reply to hecklers was:  “You think my fallacies are all wrong?”

What do you think?  Why was West so ticked off?  Why did people listen to McLuhan?

Cordially, Marshall and Me

Reading for this post

Rebecca West.  “McLuhan and the Future of Literature,” Presidential Address, 1969.  London: English Association, 1969.

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Michael Hinton Wednesday, February 10th, 2010 1950s and 60s, Communication No Comments

Opposites attract

Marshall McLuhan (February 7, 1960, age 50).  Watch out for Mr. In Between.

Marshall, Corinne said to me at breakfast, things are not all black and white.  I had simply said that telephone calls in this house must be strictly limited to no more than 2 minutes a call.  She said that our two oldest girls, Teresa and Mary, were teenagers and that we must expect them to want to talk for far more than 2 minutes a call.  I told her that of course she was right.  Between black and white there is grey.  But not everything is grey.  I said that when it comes to intellectual discovery – and what can be more important than that – it is better to ignore grey entirely and see what makes the most sense, black or white?  Corinne said what makes the most sense is the preservation of her sanity.  I imagine what that means is that telephone calls will not be strictly limited to less than 2 minutes.  Thank God – and believe me I do – I’ve got an office to escape to.  After all, I’ve work to do. 

Me (February 2010, age 57).  Figure and ground.

Marshall McLuhan liked to view the world through the tension of opposites.  Not black and white, with its suggestion of good and bad, but hot and cold, high definition and low definition, and, later, left brain and right brain, and figure and ground.

What he used to tell his students in the 1970s, I’m told, is that to truly understand a medium you must be able to look at it both as figure and ground at the same time.  That is to see it for what it is, the senses it extends and how (figure) and for how the environment around it adapts and adjusts to its presence (ground).  Which brings me to a question posed by Julien Smith, co-author of the New York Times bestseller Trust Agents, in a recent blog post:  Can you both stand out (make an impression, cut a figure) and fit in (be accepted, blend into the ground) at the same time? The answer is yes.  That’s what rhetoric is all about.  To persuade you must stand out and fit in.

Do you try only to stand out or only to fit in?  Or do you try to do both?

Cordially, Marshall and Me

Reading for this post

Letters of Marshall McLuhan, 1987, pp. 286-287.

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Michael Hinton Tuesday, February 9th, 2010 1950s and 60s, Communication No Comments

Media extend us

Marshall McLuhan (February 27, 1962, age 50).  I thought it up.

Ed Hall says he got the idea that media are extensions of us, our bodies our minds, our spirits, from Bucky Fuller.  I didn’t get it from anybody.  It just hit me.  But now that I’ve got it I see the idea everywhere.  Blake put it this way – “If perceptive organs vary, Objects of Perception seem to vary: / If the perceptive organs close, their objects seem to close also.” In other words by extending the senses media vary our perceptions and as our perceptive organs vary and the objects of the world vary.  O brave new world!

Me (February,  2010, age 57).  What if he’s right?

Marshall McLuhan enjoyed the game of exploring the myriad ways media extend us and in so doing alter the way we see the world.  Every part of us he thought was a perceptive organ.

What is Twitter an extension of?  Our voice.  A yell.

What is the calculator an extension of?  Our fingers and toes.

What is PowerPoint an extension of?  Our palms and sleeves where we used to make notes to remind us of things we didn’t want to forget.

What is the digital book an extension of?

What is the digital newspaper an extension of?

What is the digit an extension of?

Is this more than a parlor game?  Does it really matter?

Cordially, Marshall and Me

Reading for this post

Letters of Marshall McLuhan, 1987, pp. 286-287.

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Michael Hinton Saturday, February 6th, 2010 1950s and 60s, Communication, Technology 1 Comment

Look to the media

Marshall McLuhan (February 27, 1962, age 50).  TV!

Every family’s got a drop-out, magazine’s like Life are in trouble, the auto industry is veering out of control, the textbook industry and our schools are being completely overhauled.  Why do so few people see that these things and a great many more are directly attributable to the impact of TV!

TV is not the first medium to have entirely reshaped society and it will not be the last.  But in many ways it is the most obvious.  The book escaped me for years.  I caught on to TV in seconds.

Me (February, 2010, age 57).  What if he’s right?

Marshall McLuhan’s observation about TV suggests the connection between the rise of the internet and the decay of newspapers.

Extra!  Extra!  Read all about it!  In Atlanta where I was early last month for a conference, the 5 star hotel I stayed in (thanks to the special deal the American Economic Association was able to arrange for its members) did not supply newspapers for its guests, as the big hotels do in Toronto.  Their thinking being, I imagine that their guests would rather be on-line or in front of the TV.  In Montreal the English language newspaper The Gazette is given away outside metro stations to commuters in the mornings and in the afternoons, but few appear to want to take a paper.  Increasingly, the front page of the Gazette has become a showcase for advertisements, colour pictures and teasers about blogs and on-line stories.  Some days, like last Monday, the lead story no longer leads on the front page.

The French seem to be lagging in the abandonment of the newspaper.  The leading intellectual newspaper here is called Le Devoir.  What English language daily would call itself Homework?

Are you more likely to get your news from TV, on-line, or from a newspaper? When the newspaper disappears, where will the radio morning shows get their stories?

Cordially, Marshall and Me

Reading for this post

The Montreal Gazette, February 1, 2010.

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Michael Hinton Friday, February 5th, 2010 1950s and 60s, Business, Communication, Culture, Education 1 Comment

Haiti will soon be a distant memory

Marshall McLuhan (April, 1965, age 53).  War on TV.

I was telling Tom Easterbrook just the other day The Vietnam War cannot be won on TV.  It could be won on radio, but not on TV.  TV is too involving.  One other thing, which I think is “verra” interesting.  Have you noticed that the media can only follow one war at a time?

Me (February, 2010, age 57).  What if he’s right?

Marshall McLuhan’s observation that the media can only follow one war at a time, suggests a prediction about the three week-old now disaster in Haiti. Sooner or later, the will media move on to some other bad news story to sell their good news (the advertisements).  Somalia, New Orleans, Bangladesh where are they on the 6 o’clock news?  Can Haiti, no matter how deserving of our attention remain long in the electronic eye once another story pops up.  At least Tiger is getting a break.  However, the hurricane season is fast approaching.  Haiti’s only chance is to suffer new disaster.

Is there a difference between radio coverage of the story and TV coverage?  If so, what is it? Does TV coverage, while it lasts, increase the likelihood that something will be done to rescue Haiti?

Cordially, Marshall and Me

Reading for this post

Marshall McLuhan and Quentin Fiore.  War and Peace in the Global Village, 1968.

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Michael Hinton Thursday, February 4th, 2010 1950s and 60s, Communication, Technology 1 Comment

McLuhan in a box?

Marshall McLuhan (February, 1967, age 55).  Undignified!  Not professorial!

Quentin Fiore tells me that Aspen Magazine is wild about putting me in one of their boxes.  I am the subject of their next issue, issue number 4, the McLuhan editionCorinne will be amused.  The graduate school – I am sure – will not.  This will give the Profs at Toronto University a fit.  I can hear them now.  Pure Commercialism! Undignified!  Not professorial!  Well that’s their look out.

For each issue Aspen’s editors assemble a mix of recordings, posters, essays and whatnot playing on a particular theme.  “Magazine” you know is a very interesting word.  It means a storehouse, a cache, typically for explosives.  This issue is undoubtedly going to result in fireworks.  The last one was on Warhol.  This one’s on me.    Haven’t seen it yet, but I will.  Perhaps next Sunday.

Me (February, 2010, age 57):  A 1960s time capsule.

Aspen Magazine, the brain child of Phyllis Johnson, a former editor for Women’s Wear Daily and Advertising Age began publication in 1965 and ceased publication in 1971.  U.S. Subscribers paid $12.95 a year for 4 quarterly issues and Canadians $14.95.  For this somewhat princely sum (Look or Life, popular 26-issue-a-year magazines, at this time cost Americans $5.00 a year and Canadians $5.50) the subscribers received a multi-media, extravaganza of visual, oral, and tactile delights. For us, viewing it today it is both a 1960s time capsule and time machine.

The McLuhan edition which arrived at the subscriber’s door in the spring of 1967 in a hinged box (9-½ by 12-½ by ¾ inches) decorated with an electronic circuit board and containing:

Is there a market for something like Aspen Magazine today?  How much do you think such a magazine would cost today? (In today’s money – adjusting for inflation – an American annual subscription of $12.95 would be worth $68.83, and a Canadian subscription of $14.95 would be worth $79.46 – amazing value for money) Do you know of any library, centre, or museum that has a copy of the Aspen McLuhan edition?

Cordially, Marshall and Me

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Michael Hinton Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010 1950s and 60s, Communication, Culture 3 Comments

Isn’t that amazing!

Marshall McLuhan (August, 1973, age 62).  My contribution is an h!

Just got off the phone with Cousin Ron – Dr. Ron Hall, now – who you will remember is a biochemist at McMaster.  Idea Consultants is back in action.  These long hot sweaty dog days of summer have been a positive inspiration to us both.  Ron has done the leg work.  They say genius is 99 per cent perspiration.  So perspiration is a good thing.  The problem is it stinks.  Ron came up with the science part of the solution.  Don’t mask the smell with perfume or deodorant.  Keep the good part of the sweat -those amazingly communicative pheromones.  Get rid of the stinky part.  Ron wanted to call his bio-chemical product “protex.”  As in “pro-tection” and  “tex-tile” – protect the fabric.  But I added, if I must say – and I will – what Corinne told me was “the distilled essence of genius.” I convinced him to add one little letter to the name which will spell all the difference in the world: the letter “h.”  We will call it “Prohtex.”  Get it? “Proh-ibit” and “tex-tile” – as in prohibit [the bad sweat on] the fabric.  Well perhaps not everyone will get it.  But when they do we’ll be rolling in it.  Or rather they will.  Must run I feel another idea coming on.  This could be the big one.

Me (January 2010, age 57):  Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea

I don’t know exactly what happened when Marshall McLuhan and his nephew pitched one of the big companies like Johnson & Johnson.  But I’m sure the brand guys dined out regularly on the story.  It is a wonder that the writers on “Madmen” don’t go more to the life of McLuhan for inspiration.  As you might expect nobody in the business world wanted to buy this idea.  Perhaps business people today might be more interested, providing that is that the product does not prove to have unwanted and fundamentally deal-breaking side-effects, for example the attractions of the sexual attention of people you don’t want to be sexually attentive.  (Tomorrow I’ll take a look at more of McLuhan’s amazing business ideas that business kept on turning down.)

Was the name the problem?  Or was it the product?  Say that it worked, would you use a product that kept the good sweat –sent the chemical messages of attraction – and got rid of the bad – the stinky part?

Cordially, Marshall and Me

Reading for this post

W. Terrence GordonMarshall McLuhan: Escape into Understanding, 1997, pp. 268-269.

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Michael Hinton Thursday, January 28th, 2010 1970s and 80s, Business, Technology No Comments

Trying to sell Snow to sell the Galaxy

Marshall McLuhan (February 1, 1962, age 50).  C.P. Snow’s the bloke!

My editor at U of Toronto press, a canny Scot, came up with a great idea for the dust jacket testimonial for The Gutenberg Galaxy of which I hope to see the page proofs in the coming weeks.  We will get C.P. Snow – Sir Charles now – to write something complimentary.  Turns out he, and Lady Snow, met Walter Ong – my former student – at Wesleyan University and they had a meeting of minds.   How delightfully serendipitous are the ways of fate.  As you may know we are both Cambridge men and individually represent the opposite divides of the Two Cultures he has banged on about to great effect and acclaim.  The Gutenberg Galaxy is at heart about the making of the two cultures; two being one more than there was before the advent of printing.  I hope he agrees.  It will certainly make a world of difference to the sales of good old Galaxy if we can get the author of the Two Cultures to go to bat for me.  Must go, I have a letter to write.

Me (January 2010, age 57).  I don’t think Snow had a hard time saying no.

C.P. Snow did not write a phrase for the dust jacket of the Galaxy.  As far as I have been able to learn he did not reply to McLuhan’s letter.  In that letter McLuhan writes, somewhat obsequiously, “The Gutenberg Galaxy … undertakes, almost as a sequel to your Two Cultures, to explain the historical divergence of these two cultures, both before and since Gutenberg.  I dreamed, therefore, of seeing a phrase of yours on the jacket.”

If Sir Charles bothered to read the page proofs of  The Gutenberg Galaxy – assuming that McLuhan actually went to the trouble and expense of sending them to him as he promised in his letter -  it is difficult to believe that Snow would have seen himself as a natural dust jacket testimonial writer for the book.  The first two opening sentences alone I suspect would have had this plain speaking Yorkshire man shaking his head:  “The present volume is in many respects complementary to The Singer of Tales by Albert B. Lord.  Professor Lord has continued the work of Milman Parry, whose Homeric studies led him to consider how oral and written poetry naturally followed diverse patterns and functions.”

McLuhan might have found it crystal clear that Snow’s Two Cultures correspond to Lord and Parry’s “oral” and “written” “patterns and functions,” but I don’t think Snow would have found it either obvious or enlightening.

What was McLuhan thinking?  That, of course, C. P. Snow would want to be a part of the Marshall McLuhan fan club?  What should he have done differently?  (I can think of quite a few things.  For example I imagine the last thing Snow would have wanted was to see the page proofs to the Galaxy.)  Perhaps the real lesson of this story is that McLuhan was at this time totally consumed with the ideas he was creating. What do you think?

Cordially, Marshall and Me

Reading for this post

Letters of Marshall McLuhan, 1987, pp. 282-284.

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Michael Hinton Wednesday, January 27th, 2010 1950s and 60s, Communication, Culture No Comments