The role of the oral historian at the end of the 20th century cannot be overstated. With the news media spread across hundreds of magazines, newspapers, newsletters, and the Internet, the clutter is almost impenetrable. By necessity, every subject is covered innumerable times, with facts, figures, and quotes repeated, corrupted, confused, and otherwise misinterpreted beyond any real (or reliable) usefulness. The oral historian cuts through the wordy waste by going directly to the source, then letting the subject speak almost exclusively in his or her own words. Studs Terkel's many books about poverty, war, and other seemingly permanent societal problems are virtually unique in an age of neo-fictional biographies. His work cuts across class, race, and other divisive factors to get to a sort of unvarnished truth that's illustrated through first-hand experience. The Spectator, a collection of mostly unpublished transcripts of interviews with film and theater notables Terkel conducted for his Chicago-based radio show, is more personal than usual. A failed actor perhaps best known for radio thrillers and the occasional walk-on, Terkel continued to steep himself in theater and film even as his career went a different direction. The Spectator's subjects bring out a real sense of enthusiasm in Terkel, who as usual comes to his meetings prepared with obscure movie trivia, rare recordings, and personal anecdotes that often wow the people with whom he speaks. Buster Keaton's description of the silent-film work ethic, Satyajit Ray's discussion of Indian identity, Carol Channing's recollection of her theater studies at Bennington College, Arthur Miller, Tennessee Williams, and Eugene Ionesco talking (separately) of their personal playwriting philosophy: All are spurred on by Terkel's extensive knowledge of their work. Yet some of the best bits come when the interviewer just lets his subjects expound at length, as with Pauline Kael's take on war movies, Arnold Schwarzenegger's near-fascist perspective on achievement, and Zero Mostel's irrepressible clowning around. In many senses, the book is like Peter Bogdanovich's Who The Devil Made It?, in that The Spectator presents several big names who could very well be forgotten or at least overlooked in the next 100 years. It's great, then, to have so many personalities—not least of which is Terkel's own, as he frequently adds tangential stories and annotates his interviews—packed into one extensive and passionate time capsule.