Review of "Laughing All The Way" by Barbara Howar

Ms. Howar's book is a thoughtful reflection of a portion of her life focusing mainly on the time she lived in Washington, D.C. Her yarn of personal tales does not show a positive, one-sided story most people tend to write about themselves. The good deeds of Ms. Howar are few between the missteps she faces as she discusses her appalling behaviors, sharp tongue and quick wit, in depth. After a few confrontations with Washington society members during which her sharp tongue and quick wit unsubtly revealed themselves, she was made an outcast of the society she wished so strongly to be a member.

Starting out on page one, Barbara shows her true spirit by writing, "Laughing at myself is what I do best." Barbara was raised in Raleigh, a proud sixth generation southerner; she did not act like the typical southern belle while growing up. Barbara had two sisters, but did not share their feminine tendencies; she wanted to run around with the boys, she wanted the freedom the boys had. Barbara's family was a very interesting culmination of personalities. Her father was the typical southern gentlemen, very conservative. Barbara's mother, trying her best to be the perfect wife, drank heavily until her daughters grew up enough to be interesting to her. As parents, they were busy with country club activities, card parties and hunting trips.

Barbara ran around with the neighborhood children and was very daring in her youth. On page twenty-four Barbara summarizes the rules of her childhood, "I was taught not to take my pants down in someone's garage; not to gang up on smaller children; to be respectful of elders; never lie, cheat, steal or damage other people's property; and to be home before dark. I was forbidden to swear or interrupt conversations or say "nigger" - no respect for the Negro, just a subtle class distinction for upper-class southern children. I was guilty of all of these, which was actually all right as long as nobody caught me at them."

When Barbara was nine years old, she committed a somewhat heinous offense when she started a brush fire that ended up destroying the nearby Negro cemetery. The utter devastation her actions caused were irreplaceable, the only markers on the graves were wooden, most of which simply displayed the dead person's name and, if known, the dates of their brief lives. Barbara describes the scene, "Negroes, screaming to God for help, frantically passed buckets of water to keep the fire from spreading to their wood shanties nearby. Fire trucks seldom came in Raleigh unless white sections were in danger. Even without them, it was the most exciting event of my youth." Barbara did not get into trouble for her actions; the agony she caused the local people was disregarded by other white southerners. Later she writes, "If anything, I was a source of sly amusement among my elders, a spirited nine-year old girl, white and not responsible" (Page 29).

Barbara constantly sought out attention, but did not have to look hard. It often followed her where ever she went. As Barbara grew up, her rebellious streak stayed with her. After sparring continuously with nuns during her school years, Barbara went off to finishing school where women were typically stored until they caught husbands. The school was located in Washington D.C.; it was during this time when her love of the city began. After finishing school, Barbara returned to Washington to secure a job as a cub reporter at a small newspaper. Barbara notes her self confidence lasted longer than the money in her pockets. She eventually got a job in Congress as a secretary, a job she failed at miserably. She really wasn't interested in the work; she was enthralled with the buzz of politics.

Book Review: Laughing All The Way, by Barbara Howar
		Barbara became steeped in the political night life and spent many evening dancing on table tops and partying early into the morning. During these fun-filled two years, Barbara talks of her "quest of more wine and louder music, "flying on private planes to the Kentucky Derby," "but the tedium of the clerical work dulled the excitement of my social life" (Page 65). Barbara finally wakes up one day to try something she never had tried before - marriage. She ended up meeting a Syrian man named Ed Howar and they got married. After the initial excitement of the wedding and marriage, Barbara began to wonder what to do with her time. The era was very exciting time, the youngest president ever elected, John F. Kennedy was in office, and there was a new young and vibrant outlook on the country. After John F. Kennedy was assassinated, his vice president, Lyndon Baines Johnson came into office. Since Barbara had supported Kennedy, she became an avid supporter of Johnson's. As a volunteer of many fund raising activities, Barbara found herself at a crossroads. "It was my task to take charge of one of movies stars in town to promote the telethon. My choice was between Angie Dickinson and Bobby Darin" (Page 181). Barbara relates that Bobby was not what she perceived him to be. "For all of his show-biz flamboyance at the time, he was a self-styled intellectual, a young man with a political conscience and the Elmer Gantry ability to convert those who did not share his convictions. I know if would make better reading to report that I began thinking of the world's problems through an exposure to John Kenneth Galbraith or, at least, Paul Newman, but it was Mr. Darin, the teen-rage of the fifties, who led me through the maze of bigotry in which I lived, backed me down on every narrow-minded point, and made me care" (Page 181). Bobby and Barbara began to travel his night club circuit and visited many places which exposed Barbara to different people and lifestyles. "We ate greasy hamburgers and talked race with Flip Wilson in Philadelphia; discussed censorship with Tony Franciosa in Puerto Rico, before we stated a brawl with a bar full of San Juan hooker; and talked life and times with Sugar Ray Robinson, Gore Vidal, and Liza Minnelli in a Copacabana dressing room. . . Many times a day he would shout, "Open your eyes and look around. I did" (Page 181). Finally Barbara ends her brief experience with Bobby by saying, "Whatever my Washington reputation suffered, Bobby Darin did fine things for my soul. At the very least, he showed me I might have one" (Page 182). As much as I would like to end my piece here, I am going to continue. For those of us who avidly read about Bobby, and enjoy his diverse talents: his singing, acting, composing, and his staunch activism, none of what Barbara relates about Bobby is a surprise to me. The Bobby she describes in her book is exactly the way I imagine him to be: conscientious, brave, intelligent, kind, generous, earnest and moral. Bobby could have easily walked away from Barbara, but he didn't. He led her on a personal journey that we all need to go on to broaden our minds and deepen our souls. I can only imagine what a taskmaster Bobby must have been. When he's sure he's right, I'm confident he was persistent, adamant, fair, but a very persuasive opponent. Let's just say that Barbara went through "Bobby Boot Camp." Who among us would expose our inner weaknesses like Barbara did? In this part of the book is where my opinion changed about Barbara, because after she was mentored by Bobby, she could have easily slipped back into her old ways, but she didn't. In the political atmosphere she lived in, she began to walk a very dangerous and controversial line - the party in power did not have the same outlook as she did. So again, Barbara was ostracized by the people of Washington she so desperately wanted to be a part. But this time, Barbara was stronger and she knew she was doing the right thing. In the end, Barbara does indeed laugh all the way; she embraces her mistakes and wears them bravely on her chest like medals, as a soldier would proudly wear her badges of honor. After all, she survived "Bobby Boot Camp." Reviewed by Ruth Harzer Edited by Jane Schran
	Ms. Howar's book is a thoughtful reflection of a portion of her life focusing mainly on the time she lived in Washington, D.C. Her yarn of personal tales does not show a positive, one-sided story most people tend to write about themselves. The good deeds of Ms. Howar are few between the missteps she faces as she discusses her appalling behaviors, sharp tongue and quick wit, in depth. After a few confrontations with Washington society members during which her sharp tongue and quick wit unsubtly revealed themselves, she was made an outcast of the society she wished so strongly to be a member. Starting out on page one, Barbara shows her true spirit by writing, "Laughing at myself is what I do best." Barbara was raised in Raleigh, a proud sixth generation southerner; she did not act like the typical southern belle while growing up. Barbara had two sisters, but did not share their feminine tendencies; she wanted to run around with the boys, she wanted the freedom the boys had. Barbara's family was a very interesting culmination of personalities. Her father was the typical southern gentlemen, very conservative. Barbara's mother, trying her best to be the perfect wife, drank heavily until her daughters grew up enough to be interesting to her. As parents, they were busy with country club activities, card parties and hunting trips. Barbara ran around with the neighborhood children and was very daring in her youth. On page twenty-four Barbara summarizes the rules of her childhood, "I was taught not to take my pants down in someone's garage; not to gang up on smaller children; to be respectful of elders; never lie, cheat, steal or damage other people's property; and to be home before dark. I was forbidden to swear or interrupt conversations or say "nigger" - no respect for the Negro, just a subtle class distinction for upper-class southern children. I was guilty of all of these, which was actually all right as long as nobody caught me at them." When Barbara was nine years old, she committed a somewhat heinous offense when she started a brush fire that ended up destroying the nearby Negro cemetery. The utter devastation her actions caused were irreplaceable, the only markers on the graves were wooden, most of which simply displayed the dead person's name and, if known, the dates of their brief lives. Barbara describes the scene, "Negroes, screaming to God for help, frantically passed buckets of water to keep the fire from spreading to their wood shanties nearby. Fire trucks seldom came in Raleigh unless white sections were in danger. Even without them, it was the most exciting event of my youth." Barbara did not get into trouble for her actions; the agony she caused the local people was disregarded by other white southerners. Later she writes, "If anything, I was a source of sly amusement among my elders, a spirited nine-year old girl, white and not responsible" (Page 29). Barbara constantly sought out attention, but did not have to look hard. It often followed her where ever she went. As Barbara grew up, her rebellious streak stayed with her. After sparring continuously with nuns during her school years, Barbara went off to finishing school where women were typically stored until they caught husbands. The school was located in Washington D.C.; it was during this time when her love of the city began. After finishing school, Barbara returned to Washington to secure a job as a cub reporter at a small newspaper. Barbara notes her self confidence lasted longer than the money in her pockets. She eventually got a job in Congress as a secretary, a job she failed at miserably. She really wasn't interested in the work; she was enthralled with the buzz of politics.

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