Four years ago, I pointed out that I didn't think much of Marty Peretz, who praised Ron Radosh's book, Red Star Over Hollywood: The Film Colony's Long Romance With The Left. I pointed out that the book that Peretz claimed to be "wise" and "honest" was written by a hack who had written things like this:
On the other side of the divide are self-described progressives steeped in existential depravity. They are people with a memory eviscerated over time. For them rap is music and manners are arbitrary rules. Having lived only in a debased culture, they do not have standards on which to rely except the popular dogma of environmentalism, and the avoidance of discrimination.
These are not the words of someone who seems capable of fair-minded wisdom and I said as much.
But the (admittedly great) Daniel Radosh came to his dad's defense, saying that he had spoken with his father about the column who told Daniel he'd "never seen (the column) before," despite it being his byline. "Some intern at the Hudson Institute is so about to get fired," Daniel added.
Now this one piece doesn't really matter in the big scheme of things. Radosh has proven that he's a less than fair-minded observer time and time again since then. However, it seemed important to bring up today, as Radosh jumps onto the nutty "Bill Ayers wrote Dreams From My Father" bandwagon.
The "evidence" that Ayers wrote Obama's book is, to be sure, ridiculous. The evidence to suggest that Ron Radosh is projecting is pretty strong.
At the time I first brought up Radosh's writings, I attempted to contact The Hudson Institute to find out what sort of mix-up had occurred to allow an article to be published under someone else's byline, but no one would return my calls. Still, four years after I first brought this up and seven years after it was first published, the column is still available with Radosh's byline.
It is reasonable to assume that, despite the suggestion by Daniel that his father was miffed by the column, Ron Radosh either has no problem with his name being attached to an essay he didn't write or he lied about not having written. To his own son, no less.
(Hat tip: Balloon Juice.Crossposted at Nitpicker.)