Getting it wrong is a fear every non-fiction writer suffers. Spare a moment of sympathy, then, for Charles Pelligrino, author of “The Last Train from Hiroshima.” It contains an account of a secret fatal nuclear accident and details how one Joseph Fuoco became a last-minute substitute flight engineer on one of the two planes escorting the Enola Gay on its bombing run.
The problem is that the last Mr. Fuoco was an imposter. There was no such accident and he was never aboard that plane.
Ooops.
Author Pelligrino told the New York Times that he was duped. “I liked and admired the guy. He had loads and loads of papers, and photographs of everything.”
It reminds me of the time I had contact with a fantasist who claimed to be close friends with Elvis (yes, this was a while ago). He never got anything from me, but I later found out he’d been using this bogus connection to raise money for film projects that never happened. He’s one of three pathological liars I’ve encountered (is it me?). They can be absolutely convincing, to the point where you wonder whether at some point they start to believe their stories themselves.
The moral of the story: before you go public, check, double-check and triple-check.
(More useful advice on writing is in my book, "Your Writing Coach," published by Nicholas Brealey and available from Amazon and other online and offline retailers.)
