THIS STORY HAS BEEN FORMATTED FOR EASY PRINTING

Max Hall, cheerful, precise as Harvard editor, journalist

MAX HALL MAX HALL
By Bryan Marquard
Globe Staff / February 10, 2011

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Editing as if he were the writer and the eventual reader, Max Hall coaxed scholars to craft prose that could be grasped by those who did not dwell in ivy-covered halls.

A Southerner defined by his gentle warmth and kindly manner, he was modest about his contributions.

“There’s a danger of an editor being given too much credit for a book,’’ he told the magazine of his alma mater, Emory University, in 1996. “I’ve always felt that it is the author’s book. I am there to make suggestions, and if I can help, fine.’’

More effusive were writers such as Thomas K. McCraw, a professor of business history emeritus at Harvard Business School who was awarded a Pulitzer Prize in 1985 for “Prophets of Regulation,’’ which Mr. Hall edited.

“Without Max’s help,’’ McCraw said, “my book would not have won the Pulitzer Prize in history.’’

Mr. Hall, whose own books included histories of the Charles River and the Harvard University Press, where he worked for many years, died Jan. 12 in the Sancta Maria nursing facility in Cambridge. He was 100, and his health had been failing since September.

“He was a lifelong lover of words and clear language,’’ said his daughter Judith of Newton.

“Max taught me a lot, because he was, first of all, a superb journalist, and he believed in the ABCs: Everything he wrote was a model of accuracy, brevity, and clarity,’’ said Christopher Reed, a contributing editor at Harvard Magazine and a former colleague at Harvard University Press. “He was very eager to accomplish what he set out to do in the briefest amount of time, so as to not tax the readers.’’

As an editor, Mr. Hall was “both the author’s advocate and the reader’s advocate,’’ Reed said. Mr. Hall ferreted out ambiguity that could dilute a writer’s message and confuse readers, but he did so without substituting his own voice, his own turns of phrase.

His precision could be daunting. More than a quarter-century ago, Mr. Hall edited a book that Richard H.K. Vietor hoped would secure him tenure at Harvard Business School, where he is a professor of business administration.

“He went through each chapter, and, honestly, the first one he did, he made more red marks than I had original words,’’ Vietor said.

“Among other things, Max taught me how to use commas properly,’’ he said. “I used way too many commas, and he was very big on topic sentences for paragraphs. There were no split infinitives and no run-on sentences. It was just the most painful thing I’ve ever done, and I learned to write 10 times as well. I’ve published several books since, and the writing style is still Max Hall’s.’’

The youngest of three children, Maxcy Reddick Hall was born in Atlanta. He worked on the newspaper at Boys High School in Atlanta, graduating in 1928.

At Emory, where he graduated in 1932 with a bachelor’s in English literature, Mr. Hall spent weekends and summers working on the sports desk of the Atlanta Constitution. He taught high school English for a year after graduating, then returned to newspapers, first at the Atlanta Georgian, then at the New York Mirror in New York City.

In 1934, he married Elizabeth Holsombach, with whom he later published writings about museum exhibits in Cambridge. She died in 1974.

During nine years with the Associated Press, Mr. Hall reported from Washington, D.C., and was awarded a Nieman Fellowship at Harvard, which let him return to Cambridge and Boston. He was 9 when he first journeyed outside Georgia to spend four weeks with an aunt in an apartment overlooking the Charles River, a visit mentioned in the preface of his 1986 book “The Charles: The People’s River.’’

“My diary says that I enjoyed the ‘Esplanard,’ took a two-mile motorboat trip for 10 cents, and walked halfway across the ‘great Harvard bridge’ that led to the ‘Boston Tech College,’ ’’ he wrote.

Mr. Hall spent six years working for the federal government, including in public affairs at the State Department, before serving as editorial director for the New York Metropolitan Region Study, a 10-book project. After that, he moved to Cambridge to become the first social sciences editor for Harvard University Press.

For his last few years of full-time salaried work, he was editorial adviser for Harvard Business School’s division of research, coaching faculty on book projects. Though officially retired at 66, he wrote regularly as a contributing editor at Harvard Magazine, where he served on the board of incorporators and board of directors.

Colleagues also sought Mr. Hall for specific projects, such as editing “Creating Modern Capitalism,’’ a 1998 Harvard textbook. He finished the two-year job when he was 87 and residing in a Cambridge assisted living facility.

“I would deliver this material to him, and he would turn it around faster than most 35-year-old editors,’’ McCraw said. “He was that good.’’

In 1960, Mr. Hall published “Benjamin Franklin and Polly Baker: The History of a Literary Deception.’’ “Harvard University Press: A History,’’ appeared in 1986. He also wrote occasionally for the Globe, where his last book review appeared in 2002, when he was 92.

He was awarded an honorary doctorate from Emory University in 1995, the publication year for his last book, “An Embarrassment of Misprints,’’ a collection of startling typos in the history of publishing.

Among the gems he found was a 1631 edition of the Bible that broke the commandment to never leave out a key word, in this case the word not. As a result, the Seventh Commandment read, “Thou shalt commit adultery,’’ and the edition became known as “The Wicked Bible.’’

“I suppose that’s the most dreadful typo in history,’’ Mr. Hall told Emory Magazine in 1996.

A service will be announced for Mr. Hall, who, in addition to his daughter Judith, leaves another daughter, Nancy of Cambridge; a son, Clay of West Stockbridge; eight grandchildren; and six great-grandchildren.

Mr. Hall’s longevity may have been due to his unfailingly cheerful disposition, which charmed people wherever he went, including those academics whose writing he showed little mercy.

“He was the most unconflicted person, I think, that anyone ever met,’’ his daughter said. “He had a lot of inner clarity and was a very happy person all his life.’’

Said McCraw: “He’s one of the most unforgettable people I’ve ever met and one of the pleasantest human beings in whose company you could have the good fortune to be.’’

Bryan Marquard can be reached at bmarquard@globe.com.