Irving was to be the publisher, and Robert Tucker, of Johns Hopkins, and I the co-editors. Bob and I had never met, but any worries we might have had about each other were overshadowed by our shared uncertainty about how Irving might interpret his role as publisher. He was, after all, one of the great editors of his day and a man of forceful opinion. Would he not want to have his say, and would not a triumvirate of editors, each with firm views, be disastrous? Our concern was strengthened by Irving’s opinion, freely offered, that one didn’t actually need to know anything to write about foreign policy, it was only a matter of applying common sense. This was a view of things that left me uneasy, but Tucker, who had devoted his whole working life to an exhaustive study of the subject and was one of the country’s leading scholars of foreign policy, found it positively alarming. As an amiable and relaxed Irving cheerfully held forth on the virtues of common sense, Bob would tense. A softly muttered “Man, oh man” would come from his direction. Things didn’t look altogether promising.