Richard Halliburton was one of our city’s most famous celebrities — an international adventurer and author, whose books about his many exploits — swimming the Panama Canal, crossing the Alps on an elephant, and more — were bestsellers in the 1920s, ’30s, and 40s. He died as he had lived, trying to sail a Chinese junk across the Pacific during a typhoon. Halliburton Tower at Rhodes College stands in his memory.
But Halliburton didn’t always get the respect he deserved. In a 1937 edition of The New Yorker, I came across this curious little item. The New York World-Telegram newspaper was announcing the author’s latest book, saying:
“Richard Halliburton, author of The Royal Road to Romance and other travel books, has written Richard Halliburton’s Book of Marvels, which his publisher, Bobbs Merrill, describes as his ‘first book for juveniles.’”
And The New Yorker‘s snippy response?
“Somebody’s lost count.”
Ouch.
