Jonathan Margulies: When plagiarism and dishonesty pay off

When Mike Barnicle was a Metro columnist for The Boston Globe, few other writers could match his wit or his ability to tell a story. Few could craft such dynamic messages out of such simple language. And no one could boast a relationship like the one he shared with readers.

Like clam chowder and Fenway Park, Barnicle was something of a Boston institution. He was a straight shooter, a from-the-gut kind of guy who wrote simply and passionately about the things Bostonians cared about. He was popular with the lawyer, the teacher and the construction worker alike, and at the tail end of his 25-year tenure at the Globe, he even saw his renown expand into the national spotlight, fed by appearances on MSNBC and Don Imus' morning radio program.

Sure, concerns were frequently raised about the veracity of his tales, but most of the criticism didn't stick. Barnicle's free-flowing style, after all, lent itself to the occasional bit of hyperbole, and in hundreds of columns over two dozen years, not one claim of plagiarism or outlandishness ever really dented his reputation.

But that all came crashing down in 1998, when a few verses from one of Barnicle's columns suspiciously mimicked those from a book by the comedian George Carlin. Public debate grew intense, and the Globe's phone lines were soon clogged with messages from thousands of angry readers -- some calling for Barnicle's dismissal, others demanding he stay at the paper.

An internal investigation ensued, and the Globe's editors eventually asked their superstar columnist to resign, his career in shambles and his good name ruined by a few instances of careless, irresponsible, maybe even malicious journalism.

Or was it?

Unfortunately, it seems that Barnicle's story is now being played out yet again.

This time, the plagiarist is Stephen Ambrose, a widely-respected historian, author and World War II expert who, like Barnicle, is admired for his lyrical yet simple prose. The victim, along with millions of readers, is Thomas Childers, Penn's mild-mannered history professor and also an author of several books about World War II.

But this time, the circumstances are noticeably different.

On Sunday, Weekly Standard Executive Editor Fred Barnes first broke the news that Ambrose's bestseller The Wild Blue contains passages nearly identical to those in Childers' 1995 book Wings of Morning. Just two days later, Ambrose released a sweeping, gracious apology -- in which he acknowledged his fault and pledged to rectify the situation.

Today, even though evidence has surfaced suggesting Ambrose has plagiarized before, talk of his journalistic crime has all but vanished from the popular dialogue.

No virulent clashes on the talk shows and commentary pages. No impassioned pleas for justice or truth or mercy. Just one irrefutable accusation. One quiet apology. And one controversy quieted before it even began.

Certainly, that's a credit to the character of Ambrose and the professionalism of Childers, who said only that he was "disappointed" to see his words under another byline. But more significantly -- and more unfortunately -- the Barnicle case and others prove that this kind of absolution has become all too typical when high-profile figures steal the words of others.

Barnicle, after all, never really suffered the trauma of a broken career after his plagiarism was revealed. More than three years later, in fact, he's now arguably an even more popular commentator than before. His television program, Barnicle, recently ended its run on MSNBC. He hosts two different radio shows and, ironically, his column-writing skills have found a home in a bigger city with (possibly) an even more passionate lot of readers. He now writes for the the New York Daily News.

Delaware Sen. Joseph Biden has also had his own bout with intellectual treachery. In 1988, he was caught stealing words from the speeches of dead politicians for his own use. Fourteen years later, he remains the First State's senior senator, as well as a leading figure in the Democratic Party.

No doubt, the fate that met Barnicle, Biden and others awaits Ambrose. Future editions of his book (which he claims will be corrected to reflect Childers' contributions) will no doubt record higher sales. HBO will continue to rerun episodes of the miniseries Band of Brothers, which one of his books inspired. And at colleges and universities across America, students whose syllabi still (regrettably) include Ambrose's works will go on reading without missing a beat.

From one perspective, that's a testament to the forgiving nature of the American information consumer. But it's also a sad commentary on the value those same consumers place on truth, integrity and honor. Had Stephen Ambrose written a plagiarized version of The Wild Blue for a class at Penn, he would likely have been expelled. Had Thomas Childers witnessed a similar act in the confines of his own classroom, he likely would have taken steps beyond expressing his simple "disappointment."

But alas, such a fate just does not await Ambrose. He will go on writing books. Mike Barnicle will keep flashing his mug on MSNBC. And the rest of us will go on, waiting for the next moving storyteller, waiting for the next opportunity to forgive someone.

Jonathan Margulies is a senior Management concentrator from North Bellmore, N.Y., and outgoing editorial page editor of The Daily Pennsylvanian .

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