I didn’t know Bob Schulzinger quite as long as Diane Kunz and Michael Schaller, and about a half decade longer than Andy DeRoche, but our time did extend back thirty-three years. Like Diane, Michael, and Andy, I have such wonderful memories of this unique person. Anyone who met or saw him speak knew that he was one-of-a-kind. Just writing that makes me laugh, because I can hear him wryly reply, with a smile and a bit of typical crankiness that was lovable all the same, “Tom, saying somebody is one-of-a kind is like recommending a mediocre student for graduate school as somebody who will make an impact on your program.” He loved irony and satire, and he was truly amusing.
H-Diplo | Robert Jervis International Security Studies Forum
Forum (42) on the Importance of the Scholarship of Robert Schulzinger
15 June 2023 |PDF: https://issforum.org/to/jf42 | Website: rjissf.org
Editor: Diane Labrosse | Production Editor: Christopher Ball
Contents
Introduction by Thomas Zeiler, University of Colorado at Boulder. 2
Essay by Andy DeRoche, Front Range Community College. 4
Essay by Diane B. Kunz, Louis D. Brandeis Center for Human Rights Law; 6
Essay by Michael Schaller, University of Arizona. 8
Essay by Thomas Zeiler, University of Colorado at Boulder. 10
Introduction by Thomas Zeiler, University of Colorado at Boulder
I didn’t know Bob Schulzinger quite as long as Diane Kunz and Michael Schaller, and about a half decade longer than Andy DeRoche, but our time did extend back thirty-three years. Like Diane, Michael, and Andy, I have such wonderful memories of this unique person. Anyone who met or saw him speak knew that he was one-of-a-kind. Just writing that makes me laugh, because I can hear him wryly reply, with a smile and a bit of typical crankiness that was lovable all the same, “Tom, saying somebody is one-of-a kind is like recommending a mediocre student for graduate school as somebody who will make an impact on your program.” He loved irony and satire, and he was truly amusing.
In our reminiscences below, with varied emphases, all four of us speak to Bob’s sharp wit, as well as his role as a mentor and advisor, his basic and expansive generosity, and his scholarship, teaching, and service. Above all, what comes through clearly to me is his personal touch; Bob would probe and comment, not just on history, but on your opinions, ideas, and experiences. He abounded with curiosity toward the past and present, and especially politics and the economy. Yet when you conversed with him, he fixated on you and your life. Beneath that intimidating exterior—and yes, he could intimidate you with his intellect and curiosity—was a sincerely warm person. Bob was no softie, but he was a soft-hearted colleague and friend. We dearly miss his contributions to our lives.
Participants:
Andy DeRoche is a full-time history instructor at Front Range Community College in Boulder County, Colorado, and an adjunct professor at the University of Colorado in Boulder. His most recent book is Kenneth Kaunda, the United States and Southern Africa (Bloomsbury, 2016). He is currently working on a biography of USA ice hockey defenseman Eric Weinrich.
Diane B. Kunz is Scholar in Residence at the Louis D. Brandeis Center for Human Rights Under Law. She is the co-founder and an Executive Director of the Center for Adoption Policy, a non-profit organization that became the preeminent legal and policy institute engaged in adoption issues. After practicing law on Wall Street, Dr. Kunz received a PhD in History and was a professor at Yale University and Columbia University, as well as a Senior Faculty Fellow at Duke University School of Law. Dr. Kunz is an honorary fellow of the American Academy of Adoption and Assisted Reproduction Attorneys and a recipient of the Congressional Angels in Adoption award and a Centers for Disease Control award for her work with Haitian adoptees. Her most recent project, The Importance of Having Children: A History of U.S. International Adoption, is under contract with UNC Press. She is now working on a group portrait of Eleanor Lansing Dulles, Anne Morrow Lindbergh, and Eleanor Roosevelt.
Michael Schaller is the Regents Professor of History Emeritus at the University of Arizona where he taught from 1974 to 2020. He has written widely on the topics of American-East Asian Relations and the rise of conservative politics in the United States. Among his publications are The U.S. Crusade in China, 1938-1945 (Columbia University Press, 1979), The American Occupation of Japan: The Origins of the Cold War in Asia (Oxford University Press, 1985), Altered States: The U.S. and Japan Since the Occupation (Oxford University Press, 1997), and Ronald Reagan (Oxford University Press, 2010).
Tom Zeiler is Professor of History, Director of the Program in International Affairs, and Interim Director of the Center of the American West at the University of Colorado Boulder, where he has taught since 1990. His most recent book is Capitalist Peace: A History of American Free Trade Internationalism, published by Oxford University Press in 2022. Tom served as the editor (alongside Bob Schulzinger) of Diplomatic History, served as president of shafr, and as a member of the Department of State’s Historical Advisory Committee. He has lectured widely abroad, including on Fulbright fellowships in Argentina, Japan, and France.
Essay by Andy DeRoche, Front Range Community College
“A Time for Thanks: The Inspirational Advising, Teaching and Scholarship of Bob Schulzinger”
The recent death of Bob Schulzinger is extremely sad for his many Society for Historians of American Foreign Relations (shafr) friends, all of whom remember his encyclopedic knowledge of history, his work ethic, and his determination to overcome obstacles. Bob was an outstanding advisor, teacher, and scholar, and for all of that I offer my thanks.
Bob was my PhD advisor at the University of Colorado (CU) back in the 1990s, and as his research assistant it was my great privilege to spend a lot of time with him outside of the halls of academia. We attended several sporting events, including Rockies baseball games and Colorado Buffalo basketball games. Those outings gave me additional insight into Bob’s intellectual curiosity and treated me to his rapier-sharp wit.
He provided me with wonderful support as an advisor throughout the process of completing my dissertation and later during my search for a job. Although he had worked hard to help me get an interview to work in the State Department’s office of the historian, he graciously applauded my decision to instead take a teaching job at Front Range Community College (FRCC). A couple of years after beginning at FRCC, Bob asked if I would like to teach a seminar on Contemporary Africa in the CU International Affairs program.
Working for Bob as an adjunct instructor of international affairs was a wonderful “moonlighting gig,” and had an array of unanticipated consequences. In my first semester, in fall 2002, I read about the former President of Zambia, Kenneth Kaunda, being in residence at Boston University for the year. I immediately began searching for a way to bring Kaunda to Boulder for a visit; however, I did not have any luck until Bob suggested contacting the organizers of the CU Conference on World Affairs. Kaunda’s participation in that conference in Boulder in spring 2003 was incredible, and his staff encouraged me to visit Zambia and begin archival research. On that first trip to Zambia, I met my wife Heather on a bus!
Some additional examples of his advice as my teacher for two graduate courses that have stayed with me all these years include his emphasis on the importance of a good title and his insistence that we strive for concise writing. Overly verbose papers were described by Bob as “Beaver History,” because they included “one dam thing after another.” One of my goals as a teacher has been to pass on these points of emphasis to my students.
In his foreign relations history research seminar, Bob encouraged us all to join shafr, and some thirty years later I am still a proud member who gets excited every few months when a new issue of Diplomatic History arrives in my mailbox. He also suggested that I submit a proposal for the 1995 shafr conference in Annapolis, which was accepted. Another panelist in my session, Jackie Grobler from the University of Pretoria in South Africa, became a great friend who invited me for my first trip to South Africa in 2002 and has hosted me in Pretoria many times over the years. Jackie’s friendship gave me the initial confidence to visit Zimbabwe. Without Bob’s boost to present my first shafr paper, none of these subsequent events may have ever happened.
During my first year in the PhD program, Bob’s colloquium on “US History since 1945” opened my eyes to the possibilities of teaching and researching recent history, which Bob always championed. Having never gotten past World War II in US History as a high school student and focusing on the US Civil War in my bachelor’s and master’s programs, it was thrilling to take a deep dive into the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s. His co-authored book Present Tense provided me with an insightful overview. When I began offering “US History since 1945” at FRCC, it was my immediate choice as the primary textbook.[1]
At least as much as Bob influenced me as a teacher, he inspired me as a scholar. In early 1992 when first looking at the PhD program at CU Boulder, it was exciting to discover that Bob was the senior diplomatic historian and that he had recently published a biography of Henry Kissinger entitled Doctor of Diplomacy.[2] Kissinger’s name was on my radar due to my longstanding interest in the Vietnam War and because my college roommate was Kissinger’s nephew. Bob’s biography of Kissinger was one of the first scholarly examinations of Kissinger’s career based on archival sources, and it remained a useful source for me decades later when I was writing my book on USA/Zambia relations in which Kissinger was a central figure in the first four chapters.[3]
As Bob’s research assistant, I carried out various tasks (getting library books, finding newspaper articles, and transcribing tape recordings) to help him with the final stages of writing his prize-winning study of USA/Vietnam relations entitled A Time for War, which was published to much acclaim in 1997.[4] It was extremely instructive to see his organizational skills and hard work produce such a fine book. Not only did Time for War serve as a model for my writing projects, but it also provided powerful details for my lectures on Vietnam. Indeed, the book’s 9th chapter on the anti-war movement and conflict on the home front, “Bringing the War Home, 1964–67,” was one of the assigned readings for a course I taught in spring 2023 on the Cold War and the Counterculture at CU Boulder. Several students found it helpful as a source for their research papers.
Perhaps Bob’s most important publication, A Time for Peace, examined post-war relations between Vietnam and the USA.[5] It featured social history topics such as the experiences of veterans and cultural history topics such as how the war is recalled through films and memorials. This was one of the first scholarly books to consider such aspects of the legacy of the war and remains influential nearly two decades later. His emphasis on social and cultural history served as one final inspiration for me, as I am now working on a study of US hockey at the end of the Cold War and pondering a future study of Zambian soccer on the global stage. Through his own work, Bob made it crystal clear that such cultural and social history projects, if done well, can make legitimate and useful contributions to the history of foreign relations.
Thanks, Bob, for being a great advisor, teacher, and scholar!
Essay by Diane B. Kunz, Louis D. Brandeis Center for Human Rights Law; Center for Adoption Policy
When I met Bob in January 1987, I did not realize that we were starting a continuing conversation that only stopped in the days before his untimely passing. I was a graduate student at Yale studying with Gaddis Smith, and Bob was a visiting professor, teaching diplomatic history, while Gaddis (his former advisor), was on sabbatical. We had professional topics, Yale graduate school, and Columbia undergraduate reminiscences in common. One of Bob’s best stories, and every story Bob told was hilarious because of his skill as a raconteur, concerned the swimming test which every Columbia undergraduate had to pass in the years he attended. Bob passed easily, but his roommate never received his Columbia degree because he failed the swimming test.
That swimming test was just one of the many challenges Bob mastered with an ease and grace that is hard to convey. He had arthrogryposis (AMC), a congenital issue which affects multiple joints prior to birth, causing them to be permanently bent or, alternatively, locked straight into place. In 1945, when Bob was born, children with such birth issues were not mainstreamed but relegated to special schools, as Bob himself was for several years. Indeed, some parents were advised not to bring children with AMC or similar congenital conditions home from the hospital, but to institutionalize them immediately. Because AMC was such a rare condition, doctors during the 1950s tried novel treatments on Bob, some of which were painful, all of which were uncomfortable. In my work as executive director of the Center for Adoption Policy, I speak with parents who adopt children with special needs, including AMC. Today, children with this condition have specialized surgery much earlier and have excellent outcomes, in part due to the techniques that were developed during Bob’s childhood, and first used on him.
But with total determination, and the support of parents who believed that Bob deserved the same opportunities that his sisters had, Bob surmounted each and every obstacle. His was a childhood when physically challenged children, burdened with the tyranny of low expectations, grew up with little or no provision made in public or private venues for those who could not easily walk up or down stairs, or move at the pace New Yorkers or New Havenites did. Bob and I both made trips to China in 1996; he for professional reasons, me to adopt my first daughter. When we returned, Bob pointed out that there were no physically challenged people visible in China and noted that such had been the case in the United States when he was a boy. The extensive progress represented by the Americans for Disabilities Act, and later legislation, is only one of the reasons, I think, for Bob’s eternal optimism, which never failed him.
Bob graduated at the top of his class in high school, and was his school’s representative to Boys State, where he won the teen delegates’ popular vote to become Ohio’s representative to Boys Nation. The fifty state winners traveled to Washington; a visit to the White House was the grand finale. One of Bob’s fellow Boys Nation attendees that year was Bill Clinton, who got his first glimpse of his later home, and, according to Bob, was politicking even then.
As any one professionally or personally interested in the study of foreign relations knows, Bob was a brilliant historian, a spell-binding professor and a wonderful writer. A lecture that he gave on “Iraq and Vietnam: Lessons Learned and Mislearned,” which is available on You Tube,[6] demonstrates, better my words can covey, Bob’s skills as a lecturer, as well as his critical yet compassionate view of US diplomatic decision-making. His erudite understanding of US foreign policy, combined with a disdain for pomposity, and, always, a sense of irony, never failed to captivate his audience.
His books remain standard reading in campuses across the country. My daughter Sarah and I visited Bob several years ago and had some great conversations about history and other subjects. But because he was just “Bob,” it was only after he died that she realized that Bob was the Robert Schulzinger whose books remain required reading at Penn. These books included his history of the Council on Foreign Relations (Wise Men of Foreign Affairs: The History of the Council on Foreign Relations [1984]), his biography of Secretary of State Kissinger (Henry Kissinger: Doctor of Diplomacy [1991]) and his two volume study of the Vietnam War ( A Time for War: The U.S and Vietnam, 1941 -1975 [1997], and A Time for Peace: the Legacy of the Vietnam War [2006]).[7] His scholarship was deep, but his writing remained accessible, whether writing in an academic journal or for a lay audience. He had a healthy skepticism of the foreign policy elite, combined with a keen understanding of the difficulties policymakers face in a world that too often presents them with only bad and worse choices, and the limitations facing historians whose role it is to interpret events thereafter.
Bob’s Presidential Address to shafr, delivered in 2000, on “Transparency, Secrecy, and Citizenship,” displayed all these qualities. He reminded his listeners that
For all the complaints (and simultaneous pride) historians of U.S. foreign relations sometimes express about having been excluded from current post- modernist enthusiasms, international historians have long known that they construct narratives rather than uncover preexisting truths…That doesn’t mean that all views have equal salience or validity…Free information can make a marketplace of ideas possible. Good sense can make one work.[8]
Those who knew Bob well would not be surprised at Bob’s invocation of a market analogy. Bob followed the financial markets with the same degree of enthusiasm and diligence that he dedicated to his academic work. Indeed, in his address, Bob devoted several pages to comparing the importance of transparency and equal access to information for financial investors, with the need for historians to have similar transparent access to US government documents. In both cases, he was correct.
Bob was always generous with his time, to his students, colleagues, and friends. He was never too busy to read a manuscript, brainstorm an idea, or comment on an outline. Working on an edited volume with him was a pleasure because of his encyclopedic knowledge and acute sensibility, leavened by his ability to appreciate the absurdity of any situation.[9] The weight of historical research gives many international historians a ‘tragic sense.’ Uniquely, Bob’s life and work imbued him with the opposite. The optimism he brought to every part of his own life was something he shared with friends, reminding them that whatever dismaying subject dominated the professional or personal concerns of the day, it would more than likely turn out to be neither as dismal nor as important as it seemed at the time. Bob will be so greatly missed, most of all, by both his wife Marie, and his daughter Elizabeth, to whom he was devoted. But also, by all of us who were fortunate to call ourselves friends of Bob. May his memory be a blessing.
Essay by Michael Schaller, University of Arizona
“Bob Schulzinger: A Remembrance”
Bob didn’t like the heat. And that contributed to his remarkable career and, incidentally, my own modest achievements. In the early 1970s Bob took a position at the University of Arizona. As a native of Cincinnati, educated at Columbia and Yale, he was unprepared for what the Sonoran Desert had in store for him. After sweating it out for one year on the faculty, he decamped for the cooler clime of Colorado, briefly to the University of Denver and ultimately to the University of Colorado at Boulder. He remained at CU for the rest of his career, a distinguished member of the Department of History, an honored teacher, and longtime director of the university’s Center for International Affairs.
And me? Because Bob headed for the Rockies, Arizona had an unanticipated open position in diplomatic history. I was fortunate to get the job. As a native New Yorker, my idea of nature and wildlife was bracketed by Central Park and the Bronx Zoo. Ann Arbor, where I did my graduate work, seemed, initially at least, like Fredrick Jackson Turner’s notion of the Western frontier. Fortunately, I learned to savor the heat, enjoy the desert’s charms, and appreciate my position at the University of Arizona. I remained in Tucson for the next 50 years. Oh yes, back to Bob. In the summer of 1974, he attended a workshop in Ann Arbor where I had just completed my PhD. Having heard I had been hired by Arizona, he reached out and introduced himself to me just days before I moved to Tucson. Boy, did he tell me a lot—perhaps more than I wanted to know—about what was in store for me! It was, I like to think, the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Over the next half century, Bob became one of my closest personal and professional friends, a collaborator on several writing projects, a traveling companion to exotic research and conference venues (imagine, if you will, Bob tramping along the Great Wall of China in exuberant spirits or exploring the elegant Victorian greenhouses in Kew Gardens while we took a break from research at the nearby Public Records Office), and an example of how superb research, writing, and teaching coalesced in one individual. I had it from an unimpeachable source—my son—who took several classes from Bob at CU, that students in his diplomatic history and Vietnam war classes were riveted by his wit, wisdom, and insights into the arcane workings of the American government, the policymaking bureaucracy, and the military. He knew precisely how to balance playfulness and seriousness in his presentations. I observed Bob’s classroom magic myself, when he was a visiting faculty member one semester in Arizona in the 1990s (during the winter term, of course!) and one semester in 2004 while I was a visiting professor at CU in Boulder. (Also the winter term so I could enjoy the skiing.)
Especially since Bob’s passing, I’ve reflected on the innumerable times I called upon him to vent my outrage over some major global event or minor academic squabble. He listened patiently while I sputtered, then calmly suggested how I might respond. Bob recognized the wide dimensions of both human frailty and folly. Most of the problems I obsessed over, he noted, were either minor hiccups that would solve themselves or were events completely out of our hands. We could observe them, form an opinion, be incensed, but needed to recognize our extremely limited ability to influence them. His calm counsel helped me manage a wide range of personal and professional issues over the years.
Bob’s scholarship, like his personality, reflected his recognition of the complexity of human behavior. His initial research and publications produced two monographs on the mechanics of diplomacy, focusing on the creation of a professional bureaucracy and the role of private elites in shaping diplomacy.[10] He continued this approach in his exploration of the intellectual and political tools that Henry Kissinger brought to his exercise of foreign policy before and during the Nixon administration.[11]
In something of a departure from his earlier work, Bob delved into the origins and legacies of the Vietnam War in a pair of monographs he produced in the 1990s and 2000s. His 1997 book, A Time for War: The U.S and Vietnam, 1941–1975, examined the many forces—political, military, diplomatic, social, and cultural—that drove the US into its decades-long military quagmire.[12] The book relied primarily on US and European sources, as Vietnamese materials, in translation or otherwise, were not widely available. Bob followed this book with broad examination of the impact of the Vietnam War on American life after the end of the American war in Vietnam. Published in 2006, A Time for Peace: the Legacy of the Vietnam War brought together a wealth of primary and secondary materials to analyze how the war experience shaped the course of those who fought, those who governed in its aftermath, and the myriad ways in which the Vietnam era drove social and cultural developments inside the United States.[13]
Amidst this primary scholarship, Bob published, beginning in the mid-1980s, a textbook on diplomatic history that has been updated and re-issued in several editions.[14] He also collaborated with several scholars, including myself, in writing a series of college texts covering the broader scope of US history. These include Present Tense: The U.S. Since 1945 (1992), Coming of Age: America in the 20th Century (1998), and American Horizons: U.S. History in a Global Context (2007). All of these have been released in updated editions.[15]
Bob was exceedingly generous with students and colleagues and always open to reading and critiquing the work of other historians. Our collaboration on several US history survey textbooks revealed how much he knew about the field and how he understood both what to say and not to say in order to persuasively communicate ideas. In his personal life, Bob was a loving husband, a devoted father, a proud grandparent, and always a great companion. He embodied the fullness of the Yiddish term Mensch—someone whose whole person embodied goodness and integrity.
Essay by Thomas Zeiler, University of Colorado at Boulder
“Present at My Creation”
Little did I know that when I met him in June 1989 at my first shafr conference, at the College of William and Mary, Bob Schulzinger would change my life and give me a career opportunity of my lifetime. To me, Bob was all energy, super-smart, with a sense of humor that could make you nearly hysterical, irascible in his unique Schulzingerian way, and deep down, a man with a big heart who could be tough, impatient, and lovable all at the same time.
I was finishing my dissertation when I accompanied my advisor, Steve Pelz, to Williamsburg for the shafr conference. Sitting at a table next to this older professor (they all seemed old to me back then), this guy welcomed me, asked I where I was from, what I researched on, what I thought of everything from the food to the weather, had amusing things to say—in short, the first but not last, typical Bob Schulzinger treatment. What I mean by that is Bob was a truly curious person who loved meeting people; he’d sound them out and either they liked him (most of them did) or they were stunned into shyness! But you were never going to sit there quietly around Bob, who’d make sure to hear from you before he held forth. And man, could he give his views of things, sometimes dismissing yours, oftentimes listening quickly and absorbing. He was no shrinking violet in terms of expressing himself—he was truly entertaining to be around—and that’s what I loved about him.
Bob tracked me down a few months later, asking if I’d want to replace him in Boulder in Spring 1990 because he was taking a semester at the University of Arizona. We moved, even into his house (he rented it to us for $200/month—when I asked him if that was a good deal, he replied, “Buddy, you need to stop asking questions and accept the offer”). I can just hear him scolding me! When the Schulzingers returned from Tucson in May, I sat their baby daughter in a big packing box to quiet her down, cleaned the house, and left Boulder for good—at least I thought. But Bob worked with the department to offer me an instructorship that lasted not only into the next fall (and CU’s national football championship) but for two more years, which then merged into a tenure-line position that I hold today. All the while, I had the simply great fortune to have Bob has a mentor and friend.
Bob went on, in the mid-1990s, to chair the Program in International Affairs, a post he held for twelve years at a time when the major expanded from 400 students to well beyond 1,000 into the next century. At the same time he guided this complex program, he kept up his vigorous research agenda, resulting in numerous publications. And he taught a full load of courses at every level, most memorable being the huge diplomatic history and US since 1968 lectures. In these, he fielded questions from students. But did I mention irascible?
Bob welcomed—truly asked for—questions from students, but woe to the kids who asked one that he deemed to be not up to snuff. There are no stupid questions, we say, but of course there are. Bob might tell a student that her comment was “silly” or another one that he was off base, yet never in a demeaning way. Rather, he insisted that they think before speaking, not a bad message at all. Even victims of his sharp wit ended up appreciating him, and many simply adored his lecture style. They even came to office hours, seeking advice.
Bob was, to me, just such a one-of-a-kind person. Sure, he had the disability. But I didn’t notice it in class or at conferences when he was speaking. I didn’t notice it when reading his detailed monographs and sweeping survey texts. I did notice it at the rec center when he swam laps—yes, he regularly dropped into the pool to exercise! What I also noticed is that Bob gave every ounce of energy, intelligence, wit, dedication, and care to running the Program in International Affairs, advising students, and contributing to the university by membership on myriad committees. He was so impressive that he was named one of the first College of Arts and Sciences Distinguished Professors, an award that followed on the heels of many others, including the presidency of shafr, a position he was so honored to hold and an organization he deeply loved.
I will always be indebted to Bob for having confidence in me. I was so lucky to see him twice before he passed away, when he was resting at home. In his last words, he told me, through a voice made groggy by medication: “Tom, I had a great life.” He surely did, and in the process, made other lives better as well.
[1] Schaller, Michael; Schulzinger, Robert D.; and Anderson, Karen, Present Tense: The United States since 1945 3rd Edition (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2003).
[2] Robert D. Schulzinger, Henry Kissinger: Doctor of Diplomacy (New York: Columbia University Press, 1989).
[3] Andy DeRoche, Kenneth Kaunda, the United States and Southern Africa (London: Bloomsbury Press, 2016).
[4] Schulzinger, A Time for War: The United States and Vietnam, 1945-1975 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997).
[5] Schulzinger, A Time for Peace: The Legacy of the Vietnam War (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006).
[6] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rf-jPCELsks&t=231s.
[7] Robert Schulzinger, The Wise Men of Foreign Affairs: The History of the Council on Foreign Relations (New York, Columbia University Press, 1884); Schulzinger, Henry Kissinger: Doctor of Diplomacy (New York, Columbia University Press, 1989); Schulzinger, A Time for War: The United States and Vietnam: 1941-1975 (New York, Oxford University Press, 1997); Schulzinger, A Time for Peace: The Legacy of the Vietnam War (New York, Oxford University Press, 2006).
[8] Schulzinger, “Transparency, Secrecy, and Citizenship,” Diplomatic History, 25: 2 (Spring 2001), 165-178, at 178.
[9] Diane B. Kunz, ed. The Diplomacy of the Crucial Decade (New York, Columbia University Press, 1994).
[10]Robert D. Schulzinger, The Making of the Diplomatic Mind: The Training, Outlook, and Style of the U.S. Foreign Service (Wesleyan, OH: Wesleyan University Press, 1975); Schulzinger, Wise Men of Foreign Affairs: The History of the Council on Foreign Relations (New York: Columbia University Press, 1984).
[11] Schulzinger, Henry Kissinger: The Doctor of Diplomacy (New York: Columbia University Press, 1989).
[12] Schulzinger, A Time for War: The U.S and Vietnam, 1941 -1975 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997).
[13] Schulzinger, A Time for Peace: the Legacy of the Vietnam War (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006).
[14] Schulzinger, American Diplomacy in the 20th Century (New York: Oxford University Press, 1984),
[15] Schulzinger, Present Tense: The U.S. Since 1945 (New York: Houghton Mifflin,1992); Schulzinger, Coming of Age: America in the 20th Century (New York: Cengage Learning,1998); and American Horizons: U.S. History in a Global Context (1st ed., New York: Oxford University Press, 2007).