Dan Wakefield

Almost 65 years after covering the murder trial that helped spark the Civil Rights movement, Dan Wakefield is finally gaining a fuller appreciation of the struggle.

“He couldn’t hide the fact that he was the smartest person in the room. He was the opposite of ‘folksy,’ which was fine in my estimation—I have always felt ‘folksy’ was often phony, and that was a charge that could never be made against Dick Lugar.”

What I remember most were his eyes—those large brown eyes that seemed to see right through you, right into your mind, and to know at once if you were speaking the truth.

Maybe the time had come to defy Kurt’s injunction against my return in his review of ‘Going All the Way,’ and instead remember his declaration that we could be writers in our hometown as well as anywhere else.

Wakefield’s sardonic and sexually explicit breakout book about Indianapolis, ‘Going All the Way,’ also made him a pariah here, until time healed old wounds on both sides, and he could finally return, triumphant, to cement the literary legacy long overdue him.

“I’m a natural ham. I like to get up and tell stories. That’s really what it’s all about.”

Beloved haunts get some love from Indy notables.

With hammers and nails, an immigrant family builds a dynasty. From Vonnegut Hardwares stems an award-winning bike trail, a Ben Affleck flick, and one of 20th century’s most important writers.

Vonnegut isn’t all Indiana has to offer.

Literary superstar John Green gets top billing, but it’s the lesser-known names that make it worth the price of admission.

It seems the key to the heart of Indianapolis’s most notables bars will always be red.

Those of you lucky enough to score tickets, remember to come dressed in your best librarian or literary-character outfit!

You read about them in Indianapolis Monthly, now hear them on the radio: Indiana authors Dan Wakefield and John Green join host John Krull on the weekly talk show No Limits, airing on WFYI 90.1 FM on Thursday, Sept. 27, at 1 p.m.

In 1969, L.S. Ayres invited native son Kurt Vonnegut to sign copies of his latest novel, Slaughterhouse-Five, in the downtown department store. At earlier stops on the book tour, the literary icon had drawn throngs of fans; here, he was met with indifference—and the irony didn’t escape him. “I sold thirteen books in two hours, every one of them to a relative,” Vonnegut wrote to fellow novelist and Shortridge High grad Dan Wakefield. “Word of honor.”

“As all of us change, this place stays the same. Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to get in here. And one of the first times I bartended, my grandfather was sitting at the end of the bar watching everything I did. Which was intimidating. I just wish he could see me back there now.”