I also fondly remember New
York magazine executive editor Shelley Zelaznick from my own too-brief
four-year (1975-79) tour as assistant arts editor. It was New York’s loss when
Shelley resigned in 1977 after the magazine’s visionary founder and editor in chief Clay
Felker lost the property in a hostile takeover by Rupert Murdoch. Shelley was smart, tough, and
gentlemanly. I admired him very much. Even on the hottest days he always seemed
cool and regal.
Alan, the arts editor and
music critic, had great respect for Shelley, whose company he enjoyed dating
back to their days together as comrades at the Herald Tribune, from whose
Sunday magazine New York had sprung. There was a time in the late 1970s when Alan
briefly added theater critic to his duties (and John Simon switched over to
film).
In reviewing a play (I can't remember the title), Alan referred to an
actress as “a female [very prominent and distinguished British actress].” It was a self-consciously silly throway line that I, with first read on the review, would dutifully if reluctantly have to throw away.
“Alan, you can't write that,” I told him.
I clearly recall Alan's
impish grin. “Show it to Shelley. See what he says,” Alan said. He
was reluctant to give up quietly a line that he enjoyed so much.
So I walked up to the front
of the office and gave the copy to Shelley, who dropped what he was doing and read
it immediately. He then came back to discuss it with Alan, trying to suppress a
smile while affecting a headmaster’s admonition for a brilliant but mischievous student.
The reading had the desired
effect. Alan knew the phrase had no chance of making it into print, but he
wanted to show Shelley what an amusing line it was and to make him laugh. And
then it was O.K. to delete the sentence.
