This book offers a great perspective on how Robert McNamara's decisions affected the lives of five ordinary people who consequently find themselves in unordinary situations. I think these stories, in conjunction with other historical texts, masterfully articulate some of the features of the clouded tapestry that we call Vietnam.

Lest we forget, the civil rights era and the horrors that it wrought still echoes and reverberates within us. Now comes a poignant reminder that there still are some closets that have stored secrets and are full of old ghosts. Paul Hendrickson braves the wrath and guilt of those that may want this sordid part of our history to continue to lie fallow. This is a story of Mississippi's pained past, one that is in the forefront of efforts to eradicate and ply for a new frame of reference. The author profiles seven Mississippi sheriffs photographed while one of their number showboats with a billy club in an apparent show of glee in beating a would be students' quest to integrate the University Of Mississippi. The real story about this book as more to do with telling the truth than hiding it. and the author uses the front cover picture on the book as metaphor to illustrate what transpired during this time, and the aftermath years later.

The genesis of Hendrickson's curiosity about the picture gives rise to why he felt that there's more to tell about the men that perpetuated and fueled actions extolling the indelible image of racism for the times. His question was: Is racism a genetic thing? Could it be possible that the sons of the perpetrators are just as racist? In other words, How has it changed for the families that had to witness the shock and sorrow of their loved ones. Where did the hatred and remorse go that strengthened the viewpoints of these so-called law enforcers? The compelling point of it all is what is extracted from the sons and grandsons to feed the pages of this book. He follows the careers of the proponents up to their deaths, with the quips, quotes, and anecdotes condoning violence, and the various interviews with leading subjects of the day. He begins with a wrenching retelling of the Emmett Till lynching-seven years before James Meredith fought for and finally won admission to Ole Miss, a bloody story Hendrickson also recounts (in addition to a fascinating recent interview with Meredith himself). I found this part of the book revealing, and gave credence to the depths that Hendrickson took to solidify his research methodology. The book's final third tries to get at the legacy of Mississippi's particular brand of segregation, but tells us nothing that we don't already know. He tries to rectify quality by profiling the children of the men in the photo, and of Meredith, with sad and inconclusive results.

While Hendrickson can be intrusive in telling readers how to interpret his subjects, he repeatedly comes up with issues that are repeated in previous and later sections of the book. The electric interview material, and deftly places these men did their horrors masterfully defines events of their times, and adds yet another chapter to this period that Mississippi would rather be left dead and buried. This book and story should not be looked down on, but should be placed among other books that endeavor to give some semblance of accord in understanding mindsets of a racist enclave.

Author Paul Hendrickson has written a very well researched book on racism in Mississippi while concentrating on seven Mississippi sheriffs photographed on the campus of the University of Mississippi during the fall of 1962 when James Meredith was to be enrolled at the University. The author spends Part One of the book painting very unflattering portraits of the bigoted men in the picture. Part Two emphasizes the past and present life of James Meredith who appears to be somewhat difficult to understand. As one of Meredith's sons says in Part Three, "My father has an overwhelming need to be famous and so will do whatever he thinks will provide that and get him attention--Jesse Helms, David Duke, you name it, even if it's only for a day...I'll call it his eccentric philosophy. This is my theory. He does these things--almost as a kind of offensive strike to throw you off...For instance, supporting David Duke. Why in hell would you even support a racist like David Duke if you're James Meredith? Well, maybe he knows he's going to get all these articles and letters about that, condemning him. And that somehow gives him the energy to do what he wants to do next."
In addition to speaking to Meredith's children in Part Three, the author also visits two of the sheriffs in the picture that were alive at the time (one died shortly after) in addition to some of their children and grandchildren. A number of these offspring are working in law enforcement or in other jobs in which they must relate with fellow workers who are African Americans.
The book is slightly more than 300 pages long. Part Three may have told me a little more than I cared to know about the lives of the descendants of the bigoted sheriffs pictured on the cover of the book. I guess we can say these men were a product of their time, and their descendants have become more enlightened through the passage of time. Bigotry is a learned behavior and through the passage of the generations progress can continue to be made.

"Sons of Mississippi" illuminates Charles Moore's photograph of a group of Mississippi sheriffs gathered at the University of Mississippi prior to the admission of its first black student James Meredith in 1962. A subtext is how the story of the murder of Emmett Till reverberates to this day in Mississippi. Hendrickson spins his narrative from interviews, research of documents from the era, and literature about the time and place. Most compelling are his interviews with the sons and grandsons of the sheriffs and with Meredith's son Joe, probing their psyches as it relates to their experiences with race and racism. Near the end of the book on page 291, the author Paul Hendrickson quotes Mark Strand on Edward Hopper's paintings: "The shadow of dark hangs over them, making whatever narratives we construct around them seem sentimental and beside the point." Here he critiques his own contribution by advising the reader that although he has spun a story around a compelling photograph, he understands that the power of the photo, the shadow of dark that hangs over it, is more profound than the fascinating narrative he has attached to it.

this is a beatifully written biography of an underrecognized photographer who spent 3 years from l939-41 travelling alone thru the south of the US for the FSA (Farm "Security Administration) taking incredible photographs. The book is worth while for the photos alone, not to mention the author's fascinating exploration of her life, and investigation of why she essentially gave up photography. A very affirming book in the sense of the choices one makes in life. I found myself showing the book to strangers on an airplane, I was so moved by the story and the photographs. Check it out.

This book falls squarely into the category of a wonderfully developed "best of class", for it faces the issue of Robert McNamara complicity and lasting culpability for the debacle and aftermath associated with Vietnam. Of course, in the interest of full disclosure, it is only fair to mention my own antipathy for McNamara, and my own belief he (as well as Henry Kissinger and a number of notable others) should have been indicted for crimes against humanity in association with the war in Vietnam. Nonetheless, this book is truly amazing at a number of levels, but most certainly because it puts the lie to the lingering neo-conservative notion that Vietnam was a necessary and winnable war that the nattering nabobs of negativity (read liberals here) and anti-war protestors inadvertently lost for America. Of course, such nonsense has more to do with wishful thinking then it does the reality of the times, as author Paul Hendrickson quickly illustrates.

This is a fascinating character study, one that poses McNamara as an isolated, antisocial figure more at home with the comfortable fictions of number crunching than with the quicksilver facts of everyday reality. His rise from Harvard to the Air Force to Ford won him wide acclaim as a "no-nonsense can-do" kind of guy, and this reputation for being the best and the brightest resulted in him being named Secretary of Defense by Jack Kennedy in what was likely the most disastrous public appointments of the last half of the 20th century. He force-fit his own conceptual perceptions onto the way the Department of Defense assessed itself and its engagements, so that quantitative measures came to supplant local experience and field judgment in the conduct of day-to-day operations in Vietnam. Thus, the most venial sorts of bean-counting by way of number of sorties, bomb tonnage dropped, and enemy body counts became the "meaningful measures of merit" (an actual term, not one I am concocting) the "whiz-kids" at the Pentagon used to determine where they stood in terms of the ultimate victory.

Meanwhile, thousands of American boys, as well as countless Vietnamese of every age, sex and description were lost in so-called "collateral damage". Engaged in the circular reasoning only a true believer in quantitative reasoning could marshal, McNamara fought to maintain the perception the war was being won, even when his raging intellect knew otherwise. Yet even after he recognized the reality of the situation, this self-described man of conscience could not bring himself to do the right and honorable thing. Rather than tell the truth and expose the outrageous situation in Vietnam, he remained silent, allowing many more thousand of young Americans and Vietnamese to die. It is this failure of conscience for which he should have been prosecuted, for his willing complicity in the continuing bloodbath long after he knew the war could not be won and that our efforts there would result only in further loss of life.

The book is also singular in its counter position of McNamara's evolution throughout the sixties and early seventies with five others so dramatically linked with the progress of the war in Vietnam; four Americans and a young Vietnamese citizen, all of whom were fatefully affected by McNamara's moral cowardice and abject failure to act or speak out. Most poignant for me was the story of one former Vietnam veteran turned artist who actually went berserk on a ferry when he discovered McNamara to be a fellow passenger. Finally, the author deals quite convincingly with the self-serving arguments McNamara himself has used to deflect criticism from himself, showing how one-sided and inconsistent they are with the public record. This is a terrific book, and one that provocatively revisits the painful and mind-numbing consequences that the terrible events of the sixties had for so many ordinary Americans. I recommend this book, although I must caution that reading it is hardly for the squeamish or faint of heart. It cuts deep into the heart of darkness that was so central to our venture in Vietnam, and faithfully recalls the depths of heartache and tragedy that piteous, misadventured action caused.

As a Viet Nam vet against the war (before, during and after), I applaud the book. However, I think Mr. Hendrickson is really pretty soft on the SOB. He is too smoothly civilized in carefully, cautiously, respectfully, slowly working up to calling the old man a liar, which in my mind has not been a question for well over thirty years.

To hell with poor schizoid Mr. McNamara and his sad, touching, tragic inability to relate to other human beings- Vietnamese, Americans, his own family... It's a good thing I wasn't along on the ferry that night on Vineyard Sound, because back then I was more than ready to kick Mr. McNamara's teeth in, before ripping his fingers loose from the railing and pitching him into that cold, dark water.

The book hints at the levels of anger and frustration that McNamara personally inspired, over and over again. (The demonstrations, car bouncings, arson at his snazzy new house at Snowmass, etc.)

I think the Morrison connection is relied on too heavily- Hendrickson confirms that Morrison didn't have anything in particular against McNamara, and didn't even know where the SecDef's window was when he burned himself at the Pentagon...

The book does not give voice to the valid view that the super-technocrat was in fact a cold blooded, knowing and unapologetic mass murderer. If his conscience ever bothered him much, it didn't cause him to do anything other than whine a bit, of which the nauseating "In Retrospect" is only the latest example. Even if his wife and kids did get ulcers.

The definitive objective book on the man that, more than almost anyone else, got us neck deep into the idiocy of the Viet war, has yet to be written.

I read the hardback version of this book several years ago when it first came out. I've probably read about 20 books on the Vietnam war, including the Pentagon Papers. I'm well steeped in the literature - and this is one of the best books on the war. I only read it once a few years ago and some of the passages and scenes in the book are still in my mind. Who can forget the Veteran who saw McNamara on the boat near Martha's Vineyard? Or McNamara's breakdown at his go away dinner. Or his realization that the war was unwinnable after the first major engaement of combat troops?