Michael MacCambridge’s latest book, ’69 Chiefs: A Team, A Season, and the Birth of Modern Kansas City was published in 2019. His earlier work includes the award-winning America’s Game: How Pro Football Captured a Nation and Chuck Noll: His Life’s Work. From 1988-1995, MacCambridge wrote about music, movies, and popular culture for The Austin American-Statesman. In addition to his books, his work has appeared in The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, Sports Illustrated, and GQ. From 1997-2015, he was an adjunct instructor at Washington University in St. Louis. He is a fellow at the Center for Sports Communication & Media at the University of Texas.
In almost any period in the past fifty years, Schottenheimer could have been cast as the “square” dad in a situation comedy. He was the quintessence of matter-of-factness, the earnest striver whose word was always good, but who would not have known the latest dance moves—or even the name of the latest dance. Marty Schottenheimer exhibited a strain of cheerful seriousness or serious good cheer, take your choice.
There are at least two great mysteries about Chuck Berry. The first is why the father of rock ‘n’ roll became so cavalier and dismissive about his work once he achieved popularity. The second is how someone so deeply scarred as Berry could continue, at least for a period in the ’60s, to create music infused with so much joy, feeling, whimsy, and bristling intelligence.