Winston at Work

By last week, readers of Churchill's LIFE and Times were more than halfway through Vol. I. From the 225,000-word text, LIFE was printing about 50,000 words, the New York Times 93,000. Extracts are running in 80 newspapers outside the U.S. (Houghton Mifflin and Book-of-the-Month Club will publish the complete text this summer). This week, Churchill turned over to LIFE and the Times Vol. II of his memoirs, covering Britain's darkest--and finest--hours, the period that saw the fall of France and the 1940 blitz on London. This second installment of his five-volume memoirs is scheduled to appear next January.

In his characteristic rolling prose, at once dignified, belligerent and unexpectedly twinkling, Churchill has told (in Vol. I) of the era of appeasement between the wars, sharpening the drama of the history with behind-the-scenes anecdotes, sharp cameos of those in the center of the stage, and pithy summings-up--generalizations like a bold sweeping together of muscular arms. In telling how Nazi Foreign Minister von Ribbentrop had been entertained at No. 10 Downing Street the day Austria was invaded by the Nazis, Churchill's finis to the episode is like an ax-stroke: "This was the last time I saw Herr von Ribbentrop before he was hanged."

Last week, he pasted a neat miniature of Molotov in his album: "Cannonball head . . . comprehending eyes . . . slab face ... a man of outstanding ability and cold-blooded ruthlessness ... I have never seen a human being who more perfectly represented the modern conception of a robot . . . His smile of Siberian winter, his carefully-measured and often wise words, his affable demeanor, combined to make him the perfect agent of Soviet policy in a deadly world . . . Havoc and ruin had been around him all his days . . . How glad I am at the end of my life not to have had to endure the stresses which he had suffered; better never be born . . . Sully, Talleyrand, Metternich would welcome him to their company, if there be another world to which Bolsheviks allow themselves to go."

Surveyor. To prepare for his prodigious literary labors, Churchill got all his papers, letters and documents together and blocked out volume titles, chapter headings and an outline for all five volumes: "First I lay the track; then I put up the railway stations and the signal blocks."

Once in chronological order by chapters, his papers are set in type as a rough working draft. Galleys in hand, Churchill then dictates to secretaries who work in relays, filling in his transitions, anecdotes and explanations. Two are always on call for odd-hours dictation: in the 45-minute drive from London to Chartwell he may reel off 800 words of text. (But sometimes he labors for hours over a paragraph.) A man of enormous vitality, he may dictate as early as 8 a.m. and as late as 3 a.m.

Bulldozer. "Before I'm finished with a book," says Churchill, "I go through it with a bulldozer." Phrases are burnished, whole chapters leveled and regraded. His own corrections are scribbled on galley proofs with red ink. A squad of helpers scans other proofs: Lord Ismay, his wartime military adviser, keeps an eye on military points, while others watch for grammatical or factual flubs.

Revisions are rushed to a printer, and clean proofs are back in 24 hours. But that is never the end of it: Vol. I went through four drafts, and for some sections Churchill sent still another, labeled "Overtake." When Vol. II was delivered last week it was marked "Final--Subject to Full Freedom of Proof Correction." Churchill exercises that freedom freely, cabling corrections and changes in words and phrases right up to his weekly deadline. In addition, any changes in punctuation or text by LIFE--even a factual correction--must be cabled to Churchill for his O.K.

As if this were not enough, a devastating message arrived at LIFE as it was closing its first installment. "All further plans for publication of my memoirs must be canceled at once," it read. "Full explanation follows . . . However, I will shortly be in position to secure for you the memoirs of Clement Attlee." The editors looked at the date (April 1) and relaxed; a practical joker in the office had faked the cable.

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