{"product_id":"the-art-of-the-interview-isbn-9781400050710","title":"The Art of the Interview","description":"THE ULTIMATE INSIDER’S LOOK AT THE FINE ART OF INTERVIEWING\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I had a fantasy the other night that this interview is so great that they no longer want me to act—just do interviews. I thought of us going all over the world doing interviews—we’ve signed for three interviews a day for six weeks.”\u003cbr\u003e—Al Pacino, in an interview with Lawrence Grobel\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHighly respected in journalist circles and hailed as “the Interviewer’s Interviewer,” Lawrence Grobel is the author of well-received biographies of Truman Capote, Marlon Brando, James Michener, and the Huston family, with bylines from Rolling Stone and Playboy to the New York Times. He has spent his thirty-year career getting tough subjects to truly open up and talk. Now, in The Art of the Interview, he offers step-by-step instruction on all aspects of nailing an effective interview and provides an inside look on how he elicted such colorful responses as:\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“I don’t like Shakespeare. I’d rather be in Malibu.” —Anthony Hopkins\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Feminists don’t like me, and I don’t like them.”—Mel Gibson\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I hope to God my friends steal my body out of a morgue and throw a party when I’m dead.”—Drew Barrymore\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I want you out of here. And I want those goddamn tapes!”—Bob Knight\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I smoked pot with my father when I was eleven in 1973. . . . He thought he was giving me a mind-extending experience just like he used to give me Hemingway novels and Woody Allen films.”—Anthony Kiedis\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eIn The Art of the Interview\u003c\/b\u003e, Grobel reveals the most memorable stories from his career, along with examples of the most candid moments from his long list of famous interviewees, from Oscar-winning actors and Nobel laureates to Pulitzer Prizewinning writers and sports figures. Taking us step by step through the interview process, from research and question writing to final editing, \u003cb\u003eThe Art of the Interview\u003c\/b\u003e is a treat for journalists and culture vultures alike.LAWRENCE GROBEL is the author of eight books, including the New York Times bestseller \u003cb\u003eClimbing Higher with Montel Williams\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003cb\u003eConversations with Capote\u003c\/b\u003e, and \u003cb\u003eThe Hustons\u003c\/b\u003e. He teaches interviewing in the English department at UCLA and lives in Los Angeles.1. Kinds of Interviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePrint. Books. Radio. Documentaries. Television.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA good interview should have the character of a good novel.\u003cbr\u003e--Harrison Salisbury\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt's hard to imagine how a nonfiction book, newspaper, magazine, or  radio or television talk show or news show could exist without  interviews. One person asking another a question in search of an  answer, looking for information, or an anecdote, or some shared  gossip. An interview is the interaction between people. Most are  one-on-one, but there are roundtable interviews and group interviews.  I once interviewed a high school marching band inside their school  gym--I'd ask a question and point to someone, or someone would raise  a hand to respond. Another time I interviewed two dozen performance  artists in my living room, feeling very much the performer as I tried  to ask provocative questions to already provocative artists.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe work of interviewers is everywhere.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePumla Gobodo-Madikizela, a clinical psychologist, wrote a book called  A Human Being Died That Night: A South African Story of Forgiveness.  She went to Pretoria Prison to interview Eugene de Kock in 1997 for  his role in the killing of three black policemen who had died when a  bomb exploded in their car. De Kock was a reviled man: He had led a  death squad and had tortured black South Africans. She spent six  months interviewing de Kock, and then she interviewed the family of  victims to prepare them for testifying at the Truth and  Reconciliation trials. Her task could not have been an easy one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBarry Mile's biography of Allen Ginsberg, Gerald Clarke's of Truman  Capote, and Ted Morgan's of William S. Burroughs could not have  existed without the interviews these writers did as part of their  research. Each had access to his subject, as well as to the people  who knew their subject. On the other hand, Richard Ellman never  interviewed Oscar Wilde or James Joyce, A. Scott Berg never  personally spoke with Max Perkins, Samuel Goldwyn, or Charles  Lindbergh, Norman Mailer never talked to Gary Gilmore, David King  Dunaway didn't know Aldous Huxley, Albrecht Folsing didn't interview  Albert Einstein, Jeffrey Meyers didn't live at the time of Joseph  Conrad, nor Neil Baldwin when he wrote about Thomas Edison. And yet  these writers wrote biographies of these subjects, using whatever  interviews and articles that existed about them, and talking to  people who could enhance their portraits of them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOne could list practically every biography ever written and make the  same point: that even if the subject lived a thousand years ago,  there is only so much research one can do before feeling the need to  talk to someone about that subject--a scholar, a friend, an enemy,  anyone who has passion about or insight into the person one is trying  to uncover. And that need to talk is a need to interview. Can you  imagine a Studs Terkel book that didn't involve his asking questions  and someone providing answers? To get the story right, one must know  what to ask, how to ask, and how to listen to the answers. Without  the inclusion of well-done interviews, you'd still have fiction,  sitcoms, dramas, and music, but when it comes to nonfiction,  so-called reality TV, and National Public Radio there would be very  little to read, watch, or listen to.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Print\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The most in-depth interviews usually appear in print: in newspapers,  magazines, books, or online. Makes sense: Print allows more space  than radio or television. You can condense most TV interviews into a  few paragraphs of print. As you will see in other chapters of this  book, there is more to a printed interview than transcribing what has  been said and handing it to your editor. Just as most writing  involves rewriting, all interviews demand editing. Words, sentences,  and paragraphs will have to be moved around, cleaned up, reduced, or  deleted. And almost all interviews done these days in any medium are  recorded for the simple reason that the technology exists and legal  departments demand accuracy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen Norman Mailer was asked how he felt about being interviewed, he  said he always sat down with a general sense of woe, because \"the  interviewer serves up one percent of himself in the questions and the  man who answers has to give back ninety-nine percent. I feel  exploited the moment I step into an interview. Of course, once in a  while there is such a thing as a good interview; but even then, the  tape recorder eats up half the mood. It isn't the interview I really  dislike so much as the tape recorder.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTruman Capote hated tape recorders and told me he never worked with  one (though I suspect his aversion might have had something to do  with a general antipathy to electronics, a fear of pressing the wrong  button--Play instead of Record). When he was conducting his  interviews for In Cold Blood, or when he interviewed Marlon Brando in  Japan during the making of Sayonara, he relied on his memory. He said  he would go back to his room and write down everything that his  subjects said, filling filing cabinets with his notes and research.  He was meticulous, he was slow (it took him a year to write the  Brando profile), but he had a good ear, and few complained that he  misquoted them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLillian Ross prefers to \"listen carefully and take notes.\" Nicholas  Pileggi and Thomas Morgan also don't like tape recorders.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor Pileggi, who wrote the book Wise Guy: Life in a Mafia Family  (which was the basis for Martin Scorsese's GoodFellas) and worked for  Esquire and New York, \"the problem with a tape recorder is that it  exhausts you. It's stronger than you are. It throws all that stuff  back at you in exactly the same way. And if you try to fast-forward  it, you feel you've missed something. Before you know it, you're  going bananas and you're spending all your time with the tape  recorder.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMorgan, who has published nonfiction and fiction, and wrote for  Harper's, Look, Esquire, and Holiday, feels it's inhibiting. \"The  interviewee is inhibited by the fact that he's on record in a way  that he doesn't feel when you're sitting there scribbling away. Part  of that, of course, is understandable because he can always say, 'You  got it down wrong.'\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eExactly. I once did a story about mail-order entrepreneurs and spoke  to the owner of a business who proudly showed me a book he published  for 60 cents and sold for $9. When the article came out, he called my  editor and denied he had said the things I had him saying. I was in  Florida on another assignment when my editor called to warn me: \"He's  threatening to sue us.\" \"Let him,\" I said, \"it's all on tape.\" The  businessman must have had a lapse of memory and forgot that I was  recording our conversation, because once he was reminded he withdrew  his complaints.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA similar thing happened some years later when I interviewed Vincent  Bugliosi for Playboy. This was after O. J. Simpson had apparently  gotten away with murder (or so many people, including Bugliosi,  thought) and the former L.A. prosecutor had a lot to say about that  and other matters. But while the interview was still in galleys  Bugliosi managed to obtain a copy and let the powers that be at the  magazine know that he didn't say any of the things I had him saying.  He was so upset that he crossed out most of the interview and rewrote  his answers. My editor called to ask me if everything I had Bugliosi  saying was on tape. I said it was. He then told me what Bugliosi had  done and I said that if Bugliosi was allowed to change our interview  then I wanted my name removed (this had already happened once before,  I later found out, when Bugliosi was interviewed by David Sheff and  Sheff had his name removed from the final piece). In the end, Playboy  published the interview as I had given it to them. I never heard from  Bugliosi, and if I was ever asked to interview him again, I would  politely decline.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe first celebrity I ever interviewed, Mae West, wouldn't let me use  a tape recorder. When I took it out, I might just as well have  unzipped my fly--the look of shock on her face was that succinct. \"Oh  no, oh no, you can't use that, put it away.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"But this is an interview,\" I stammered. My first such interview for  Newsday's Sunday magazine. \"Don't you want me to be accurate?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I once allowed one of those to be used,\" she told me in that famous  nasal tone, \"and the reporter made a record out of it. I won't let  that happen again.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Can I sign something that says I won't turn our conversation into a  record?\" I asked. She had caught me completely off guard with her  insistence that there be no recording of our interview.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Just put it away,\" she said, \"and ask me your questions.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLuckily I had taken a pad with me, because I filled it up that day. I  worked through the night to try and get her voice right when I wrote  the story.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRay Stark, who produced four of John Huston's movies, also had an  aversion to having his voice captured on tape. When I went to talk to  him about The Night of the Iguana, Reflections in a Golden Eye, Fat  City, and Annie for my book The Hustons, he looked at my tape  recorder as if it was rotted meat. \"I can use a pad,\" I told him,  \"but I don't understand why you wouldn't want to insure being quoted  accurately.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I just don't like those things,\" he said. But after he warmed up to  talking he allowed me to turn it on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAva Gardner, who was in The Night of the Iguana, also hated tape  recorders. When I went to see her in London she told me she couldn't  talk with a tape recorder on the coffee table between us. It made her  too self conscious. So I put the machine under the table, out of her  sight, and that seemed to work.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThree people I've interviewed pulled out tape recorders of their own:  Jerry Lewis, George C. Scott, and Elizabeth Hurley. They didn't trust  journalists and felt they were misquoted in the past. \"I do this  because I've been fucked,\" Lewis told me. \"And I don't like getting  fucked by reporters.\" Hurley said after being involved in a lawsuit  against a tabloid she was under instruction from her lawyer to record  everything she said to the media. Scott never gave a reason for his  taping; he just turned his machine on, then drank his Bloody Marys  and forgot all about it. He never turned the tape over or bothered  changing tapes during the many hours we spent on two coasts talking.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Though I respect the work of Capote, Pileggi, and Morgan, I don't  agree with them about tape recorders. I also don't think a good  journalist should solely rely on them. When I was writing articles  for Newsday's Sunday magazine in the early seventies, I interviewed a  man named Slim Hennicke for a piece about the history of aviation on  Long Island. Hennicke was a barnstorming pilot at the turn of the  twentieth century, and he had wonderful tales of parachuting from  biplanes holding on to a billowing piece of canvas and then passing a  hat around to the spectators after he had safely landed. His basement  was crammed with aviation memorabilia, and we spoke for a few hours  among his busts of Lindbergh and Clarence Chamberlin, among the  wooden propellers and leather helmets and rusted engines that flew  those historic planes. When we broke for lunch I went across the  street to a diner and checked my equipment. I discovered that my tape  recorder had not recorded a single word Hennicke had spoken. What I  learned was that before a battery went completely dead it could still  generate enough power to turn a tape, but not enough to record  anything. I didn't think I could ever replicate what Hennicke had  told me from memory, so when I returned I just started asking him  questions similar to the ones he had already answered. Fortunately,  Hennicke was an old man who enjoyed his stories and didn't mind  repeating them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter that experience I made sure I used two tape recorders on every  interview and that I put in new batteries each time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRecording conversations can provide a false sense of security if the  tape recorder malfunctions, if the tape itself gets stuck, if the  batteries die--but assuming it works, then it allows you to  concentrate more on what is being said, and to respond, without  having to look up from your notebook as you try to write down  everything that is being said. Still, it's a good idea to jot down  phrases as you listen, especially if the person you're talking with  likes to jump from subject to subject. That way you can look down at  your notes and refer back to something you heard but might want to  delve deeper into.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy advice when it comes to tape recorders is to use two and to try to  get the older metal ones instead of the newer plastic ones. I've  found that the plastic ones record the humming of the machine itself,  and the metal ones sound clearer. I also prefer the microcassette  recorders to the regular cassettes because they are less obtrusive,  take up less space when you're doing long interviews and are using  four or five tapes (doubled if you're using two machines), and the  better machines like the Olympus 100 or 200 record just as well as  the larger ones. I also like to use ninety-minute tapes on the slower  speed, which allows me to record three hours on one tape. (I've yet  to find a digital tape recorder that can distinguish and translate  two voices into text when downloaded into a computer, but when that  time comes it will eliminate transcribing and save one a lot of time  and money!)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOne last tip: Turn on the tape recorder as soon as you can. This is  contrary to what New Yorker writer Ken Auletta believes. He prefers  not to open his notepad or turn on a tape recorder right away;  instead, he likes to \"just talk to people a little bit. Create a  sense that you're not going to exploit them.\" I do understand what  Auletta means. But my experiences have taught me that if I don't get  the tape recorder on the table right away, I've lost immediate  control of the interview, and it can take days before I get it back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen I went to Marlon Brando's island, every time I tried to pull out  the tape recorder he said, \"Later.\" After three days of walking and  talking I was getting frustrated because he wasn't allowing me to  record anything. So finally I just took it out and turned it on as we  sat propped against his thatched hut looking out at the sea. That's  when he looked at me and observed that sometimes the best  conversations happen in silence. And for the next thirty minutes,  that's what I recorded!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen I first went to New York to interview Al Pacino, I took out my  tape recorders right after I walked through his apartment door. \"Why  don't we wait awhile with that?\" he said. Rather than put them away,  I said, \"Why don't I just put them on and we try to forget about  them?\" He shrugged. \"OK, I guess you know what you're doing.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt may seem like a technical matter whether to record a conversation  or take notes instead, and, if recording, knowing when to turn it on,  but it's one of those subtle things that sets the tone for all that  follows. If you just take the recorder out, turn it on, and then  start talking, you've established that you know what you're doing  without asking for permission and allowing your subject a choice. The  real trick is to make the person forget all about the tape recorder,  which may be easier than making him forget that you're taking notes.  Either way, it's all about taking control. If you give in at the  beginning, it's going to be a long way back to equal.Foreword by J.P. 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