![]() ![]() “We were watching a Red Sox game – the Red Sox lost, as usual.” He recalled the October night when his friend Bill Manchester, in failing health, asked him to continue the series. Then he invited me to chat: “Please allow the phone to ring several times, as it takes me a while to crawl from under the bed, climb the ladder from the bunker to the padded room, and reach the phone.” It’s so cramped under there even the rats are stoop-shouldered.” Relax, everyone! He’s fine! Paul Reid emailed me over the weekend to say: “I have emerged from under my bed to assure you that The Last Lion is being edited, all 470,000 words, every man-jack of them composed, proofed, and sourced while I labored with just ten inches of head room. So much so it’s a wonder that Reid doesn’t just hide under his bed and refuse to write anything at all.” “It’s going to be written not by Manchester, who died in 2004, but by Paul Reid, and everyone is wondering if it will be up to snuff. A few weeks ago I wrote about the world anxiously awaiting the final third volume of William Manchester’s The Last Lion: Winston Spencer Churchill, Defender of the Realm: “I know, I know,” I wrote. ![]()
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