A Dumb Autobiography That Sold Like Hotcakes
Over the years, Timothy Dexter grew increasingly desperate for recognition and acceptance. To emulate his rich neighbors, he set up a well-stocked library at home, but hardly ever picked up a book. On the few times he did, he never read for more than ten minutes. When public praise was not forthcoming, he paid a poet to praise him in verse. He also wrote a bizarre book about his life, that featured atrocious spelling and no punctuation. A representative excerpt: “Ime the first Lord in the younited States of A mercary Now of Newburyport it is the voise of the peopel and I cant Help it and so Let it gone Now as I must be Lord there will foller many more Lords pretty soune for it Dont hurt A Cat Nor the mouse Nor the son Nor the water Nor the Eare then goue on all is Easey…“
In the book, Dexter complained about politicians, men of the cloth, and his wife. He self-published the first edition, but incredibly, the book did well. So eight more editions – and paid ones at that – followed. In response to complaints about the lack of punctuation, Dexter added a page to the second edition, with eleven lines of punctuation marks. He instructed readers to help themselves, and insert the punctuations wherever they thought they were needed. Or as he put it, that “thay may peper and solt it as they plese”. When he died in 1806, Dexter’s obituary judged “his intellectual endowments not being of the most exalted stamp”. Still, despite all the dumb moves, he lived the American dream, went from rags to riches, and died in a mansion a very wealthy man – so just how dumb was he, really?