“Hi, my name’s Roy Williams and I’d like to include the letter you wrote to Admiral David McDonald in a book I’ve written that’s about to go to press. May I have your permission to do that, sir?”

“Where you calling from?”

“Austin, Texas.”

“I was in Austin recently.”

“I wish I had known. Maybe we could have gotten together.”

“I was there to bury a friend.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You’d have liked Jim.”

“I’m sure I would have. Now about that letter to Admiral McDonald…”

“Have you got a minute?”

“Sure.”

“I’m trying to remember if I ever told this to anyone and I don’t think I have. But I always meant to.”

“I’m all ears.”

“What was that?”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, I was a journalist and I’d written a book, but before I gave it to the publisher, I asked Jim to tell me what he thought of it.

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘William, you’re telling this like it’s a true story.’ And I said, ‘But it is a true story! I was there! I’ve got detailed notes!’ Then Jim told me something I’ll never forget.”

“What was that?”

“He said, ‘Bill, the public is more willing to believe fiction than non-fiction.’ Then he handed my back the manuscript and said, ‘Change this around so that it’s about imaginary people in an imaginary nation and folks will be a lot more willing to hear what you’re saying.’”

“Did you do it?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did Jim’s advice pay off?”

“Well, shortly after that book was published, a young senator named John F. Kennedy bought a copy for every member of the Senate. Then after completing his third debate with Nixon in 1960, Kennedy flew to Ann Arbor, Michigan, where he found 10,000 students waiting on the lawn for him to arrive at 2 o’clock in the morning. With a copy of my book in his back pocket, Kennedy climbed the steps of the student union building and challenged those kids to help the underprivileged people of the world. And in that magic moment The Peace Corps was born. That book was called The Ugly American. Some historians say it did more to change American foreign policy than any document since the Declaration of Independence.”

“Wow.”

I really wish you could have met Jim. I’m sure you read about it when he died.”

“No, sir, I don’t read the obituaries.”

“But it was big news when Jim died. It was news all over the country.”

Unable to think of an appropriate response, I remembered that this man was, after all, 87 years old and people of his age don’t always think as clearly as they should… William J. “Bill” Lederer broke that awkward silence with something that will be forever etched in my memory:

“Oh, I’m sorry. You probably knew him better as James… James Michener.”