Struggling Maine author finds publicity in New York
Publication: Lewiston Sun
By Larry David Hansen
Special to Sunday
NEW YORK – Using the Andy Warhol 15-minutes-of-fame philosophy as a stepping stone, Portland’s Alan Ira Rosenberg faced his slice of glory in New York City last week with the preparation of a political candidate on the campaign trail.
His skin, he believed, had the right shade of tan for television cameras. His relaxed and spontaneous “on-stage persona” had been honed with the hired help of a television consultant. The 30-second “sound bites” for reporters were previously developed as meticulously as he constructs the dialogue in his books.
His books – his three unpublished books – were the reason for the glory. The instant fame that came in the penthouse suite of the New York Hilton Thursday night was created by Rosenberg and used by Rosenberg to get this 34-year old writer what he wants out of life: a published novel by Rosenberg.
One of the most unique schemes ever staged in literary history, the unpublished novelist’s publicity stunt of auctioning off memorabilia of his past to collectors of literature was staged as his ticket into the literary world. Labeled the “First Futures Market in Literary Memorabilia,” Rosenberg, a former Kennebec Journal reporter who also works as a public relations consultant in Portland, created his own 15 minutes of fame with one goal in mind. He wanted his name to stand apart from those of other unpublished novelists.
“I’m trying to make a point with this blatant publicity stunt of how difficult it is for talented writers with agents to get published,” he said. “I’m taking a different approach to getting published. I am going to first become a celebrity, then publishers will be lining up at the door.”
On Thursday, Rosenberg gambled just about everything he had on this idea. He drained all his savings and borrowed money from his parents to pay for the $2,000-a-night Hilton penthouse suite, the $24-a-bottle champagne, the literature auctioneer with the Royal British accent, the public relations contacts of the slick “57th Street” PR man, and the 10 actresses who simultaneously read Rosenberg’s prose while wearing red sweatshirts that advertised the title of his latest novel, “Run Red Riding Hood Run.”
But $15,000 for the affair was not all he gave up. Rosenberg’s bachelorhood ended earlier in the day as he and his girlfriend, Cathy Lee Counts of South Portland, were married at New York City Hall.
The juice from this one-day story had the New York media salivating.
The New York Times called Rosenberg “Captain Chutzpah.” The Wall Street Journal said nothing like it had ever occurred before. The New York Post’s eye for absurd human interest stories used Rosenberg almost as a weekly source for colorful quotes.
The prestigious New Yorker was there to chronicle the affair, which was attended by reporters from dozens of other New York and national media organizations. Cable News Network was also there, as was the New York Daily News, News Network, Publishers Weekly, PR Journal, Variety, Self magazine and the Canadian Broadcast Corp. Dave Silberbrand, “On the Road” reporter for WGME-TV in Portland, also had his camera rolling.
By Friday morning, The Associated Press had syndicated a different version of the story to daily newspapers as far north as Juneau, Alaska, and as far south as Dallas, Texas.
“The appeal of this is that it is totally wacky,” said the event’s experienced auctioneer, Michael Robinson, who once auctioned off Herman Melville’s notes for “Moby-Dick” for $100,000. Most writers pursue writing in a sacrosanct way, almost as a religion. Alan has an attitude of fun and exuberance.”
Some look down on Rosenberg’s publicity stunt. Thomas Lingenfelter of the Heritage Collector’s Society told The Wall Street Journal that most in the literature field probably would “consider it kind of crass.”
Others aren’t quite as serious. Sarah Gallick, an editor at Pageant Books, said at the event: “(Book) editors like this. The fun of this is that it shows you can be innovative and do something new.”
The event kept the New York City crowd of about 150 fascinated with its unorthodox brand of humor. For instance, one door prize was the dedication of Rosenberg’s next book, “I’ll be the Bomb, You be London,” to the winner. Another door prize was a private dinner with Rosenberg in two years.
But as the bidding started, many attendees turned deadpan serious.
Rosenberg’s most recent manuscript, the 415-page “Run Red Riding Hood Run,” led off the auction with the opening bid of $2.75, which quickly escalated into a $150 sale. The 714-page “Claus Cries . . . at 11:00,” a non-fiction account of the Claus von Bulow murder trial written during Rosenberg’s reporter days at the Boston Herald, went for $250 to a literature collector from Virginia.
His first book, “Put Her to Bed” (a novel about a newspaper tabloid), was auctioned along with other items, such as a dog-eared dictionary, a set of 30 rejection letters, a supportive letter from Stephen King and a letter written on behalf of Cardinal Bernard Law of Boston. It stated, “The Cardinal certainly wishes you well in your next venture.”
“Though the $950 made from the action will help pay for Rosenberg’s bills, the author remains in a financial pile of red. Yet he doesn’t appear to be too concerned. Rosenberg got what he wanted – publicity.
His writing must now do the selling.
“This (publicity) takes him out of the slush pile of other unpublished writers and places his book on the editor’s desk. He has gotten visibility,” said book editor Gallick. “The rest is up to his book. It all comes down to the book.”