How did I end up with a giant red K painted on my chest? What made me cheer this academic man with a show appropriate for a football game? What did he think of me?
The Bryan Speaker Series paid thousands to bring Ken Burns to Guilford for just seven hours. Was he worth it?
I first saw him sitting on a Boren lounge loveseat. The creative genius of successful PBS programming (from Lewis and Clark to the Civil War) was candidly exchanging ideas with college students.
Before me sat my history. My father once called from out of town to have me tape Ken Burns’ documentary on Frank Lloyd Wright. I watched scenes from his film The Civil War in school and had conversations with adults about Jazz, initiated by his films.
I grew more enamored with him with every comment. “I’m a filmmaker, not a historian. I have a love affair with history.” Each answer revealed a beautifully composed speaker.
So when I got an individual interview with Ken Burns, I panicked.
I asked friends, professors – even random people on the street – what they wanted to know about Ken Burns. Many didn’t know who he was and hadn’t heard about the Bryan lecture. Even fewer showed interest.
How could they have never heard of Ken Burns? He’s a cultural icon. He’s been on The Simpsons.
A professor invited me to dine with Ken. He talked like he was at a family dinner, discussing the high cost of education, his daughters, and his recent marriage.
And love letters.
Burns has received the most mail concerning a beautiful and profound love letter in The Civil War documentary, written a week before the Battle of Manassas.
During the meal, Burns reached into his pocket and produced three yellowed scraps of paper, pieces of a typewritten copy of the letter.
“I’ve carried it in my wallet since 1984,” Burns said, as we urged him to read it.
The room was silent while he read. He had won us over completely. When he finished, he beamed, knowing our response. “A week later,” he said, “the author was killed in the first battle of Manassas.”
I had to show how much I had been taken by him. Words could not explain how much he had touched and impressed me. The only way to show such feelings would be in a gross public display of unadulterated affection.
I convinced my hall-mates that the only thing to do was paint giant letters spelling out his name.
At his speech, I challenged myself to stand up, overcoming my fear. This was an important man, an academic. How funny would he think we were? Would he call security?
We did it anyway.
Ken Burns pointed and laughed.
That was all we needed. We raced down the stairs to catch him before he was whisked away. How would we know which car was for him? What if we missed him?
We forgot that this was Guilford. There was no event staff to keep us back, and Ken’s chauffeured car was easy to spot. We waited for the well-dressed, Beatles-haired man to step out and gave him the best groupie scream we could.
He didn’t flee to his car. His smile got bigger and he turned to people inside, “Is this them?” he asked. He took pictures with us, then left, declaring he wanted copies.
The Bryan Lecture Series brings people to Guilford at a large cost; they are ours while they are here.
Did I get my money’s worth out of Ken Burns? Oh yeah.