Memories of New York Magazine (Part 2)

One of the pleasures of working at New York magazine in the 1970s (and there were many) was the annual Christmas party, held in the editorial offices on the third floor at 755 Second Avenue. That was a comfortable setup for the edit and art departments. New York published weekly, except for a double issue the last two weeks in December. That week without a press deadline was liberating, and the staff reveled in the temporary stress-free period. We could work ahead to prepare for the new year, and then willingly stay late to enjoy the party in New York's city room layout. One year, the art department was turned into a disco, with music, strobe lights, and dry ice that created a fog. There was even a roller-skating monkey. I don't remember whose guest he was.

In the festive spirit of the season, we even tolerated the presence in our midst of the Mad Men and Mad Women of the advertising sales offices from the second floor. You see, a few of them would have sold out the editorial in a New York minute for a sales commission. I remember one rep who brashly and unashamedly offered to write capsule restaurant reviews (for publication!) for potential clients she was soliciting. She saw no conflict of interest there, only a fatter paycheck for herself.

What a rollicking and enervating environment and collegial atmosphere we enjoyed at New York, the prototype (and the best) of all the city magazines. My colleagues were the smartest, wittiest, most original and creative personalities I had ever met. 

So many of New York’s editors later moved on to top editorial positions at other publications: Shelley Zelaznick and Fred Allen to Forbes, Jack Nessel to Psychology Today, Ellen Stern to GQ, Peter Devine to Vanity Fair, Laurie Jones to Vogue, Dorothy Seiberling, Nancy Newhouse, Joan Kron, and Suzanne Slesin to the New York Times, David Owen to The New Yorker, Elizabeth Crowe to Parents, Corky Pollan to Gourmet, George Gendron to Boston Magazine, Quita McMath to Texas Monthly, Rhoda Koenig to Harper’s, and assistant art director Tom Bentkowski to Life.

            
A Who’s Who in Magazine Journalism

The contributing writers and illustrators included a Who’s Who in magazine journalism: Tom Wolfe, Nick Pileggi, Nora Ephron, Mimi Sheraton, Julian Allen, Gloria Steinem, Ed Sorel, Richard Reeves, Mario Puzo, Gail Sheehy, John Bryson, Robert Grossman, Steven Brill, Dan Dorfman, James McMullan, Jimmy Breslin, Pete Hamill, David Levine, Gael Greene, Anthony Haden-Guest, and others. The design director and art director were, respectively, the inimitable Milton Glaser and Walter Bernard.

The star power was not limited to the masthead. It was not uncommon for the mayor of New York, Ed Koch at the time, U.S. Representative Bella Abzug, or other local politicians to visit our office. Paul Newman stopped by our Christmas party one year. Joel Grey, a good friend of Best Bets editor Ellen Stern, occasionally popped in. 

Arnold Schwarzenegger Comes to New York

During the course of a publicity tour in April 1976, a fresh-faced body builder and would-be actor newly arrived from Austria came by to introduce himself after New York ran a story on the documentary Pumping Iron and the feature film Stay Hungry he appeared in. Arnold Schwarzenegger charmed Ruth Gilbert, an original New York staffer and the editor of the Around Town listings, and she in turn charmed him right back. After he gave her a black-and-white publicity glossy from Pumping Iron of himself, she did an impromptu photoshop (before there was Photoshop) by attaching a head shot of drama critic John Simon onto the shot of Arnold’s pumped-up physique.  
            
For New York’s fall preview issue in 1975, there was a feature on Barry Lyndon that I edited. What I remember most about the assignment was the near impossibility of verifying some of the facts in that story (including the statement that Kubrick had used 10,000 candles to illuminate one scene in the film). The reclusive and secretive Kubrick simply could not, or would not, be reached. 

“The Soon-to-Be-Ubiquitous” Meryl Streep

Exactly one year later I got my first professional byline in a short piece about the city’s professional sports teams. In the two subsequent years I wrote capsule previews of the new fall theater offerings in New York City, including my line in the 1978 edition about a promising new actress, “the soon-to-be-ubiquitous” Meryl Streep, who would be appearing in the title role in Elizabeth Swados’s production of Alice in Wonderland at the Public Theater.

The magazine closed on Thursday night, meaning the final pages were sent to the printer in Buffalo via courier. On Fridays, Ruth and I compiled the listings of the entertainment events that would take place two weeks later in New York City. There was never enough space in our pages to accommodate the many events and cultural sites in the city. The cuts usually came at the expense of the commercial art emporiums that sold artifacts of no appreciable value. 

I never admitted that to the proprietors of those establishments, who after receiving their copies of the magazine on Monday would telephone indignantly to ask why their business was omitted from our pages. It was a free listing, I explained. We couldn’t very well cut the Metropolitan Museum, the Guggenheim, MOMA, the Museum of Natural History, or the major galleries. “You are free to take out an ad,” I reminded them. 

Alias John Milton

Not surprisingly, that never mollified their rage. Whenever they were rude or abusive and demanded to know my supervisor, I gave them Ruth’s name. (She, in turn, referred her own complainers to me.) When they asked me to whom they were speaking, I always gave them the name of an English poet or novelist. “My name is John Milton,” or “My name is Thomas Hardy,” I told them. “Well, Mr. Milton (or Mr. Hardy),” they said, “you will be hearing again from me.” 

Between Ruth's desk and mine there was a constant ebb and flow of press releases, invitations, announcements, memos, and office detritus that reached a high tide by Thursday afternoon's press deadline only to recede by Friday after we had a chance to file or toss the flotsam.
     
The New York staff rubbed elbows after work at the New York Film Critics Circle awards with the year’s leading actors and directors and at private parties in Tavern on the Green with the original casts from both Saturday Night Live in 1975, after the magazine ran a story on the new show, and the Broadway hit Annie in 1977. A bowtie-wearing Sandy, the canine cast member, sat politely at a table with young Andrea McArdle, the original Broadway Annie, during dinner. Before that, Jim Kamish, a member of the New York staff, stood in line outside the restaurant with Paul Simon, John Belushi, Bill Murray, Gilda Radner, and others. He was directly behind Farrah Fawcett and leaned forward to sniff her hair. “What conditioner do you use?” he asked her.

Alex Trebek and Me

It was also around that time, in the mid-1970s, that I met Alex Trebek, about 10 years before he started his long-running gig as the host of Jeopardy. We at New York received word (maybe from Best Bets editor Ellen Stern, who seemed to know everyone and everything in New York City) that a new game show was in pre-production and looking for contestants. There was a local (that is, Manhattan) phone number to call about trying out for the show. At the other end of the line was a staffer who administered a quick general-interest quiz. Anyone who answered the questions correctly was invited to a makeshift studio (on the west side, I think) for an interview and a second round of questions. 

Many of us on staff enthusiastically took up the challenge. Alan Rich, much to his dismay, did not make the cut. He got the sports question wrong. It was unfair. Alan was more worldly and much more knowledgeable than any of us in every category except sports. 

Things were moving fast. We were advised that we needed to get to the studio that afternoon for the second stage of our tryout. I don’t remember a single question from either quiz, but somehow, I was still standing, along with assistant copy editor Quita McMath, after the second round. We were then escorted into another part of the studio and, with one other contestant, positioned behind separate counters or podiums (with game-show buzzers), much like those in use today on Jeopardy.

 
A producer explained that we would now take part in a pair of mock shows, to be played straight, including banter with the host and appropriate breaks for what in a real show would be commercials. As we were ready to begin, Trebek materialized from offstage. After a few quick preliminaries, the show began. I wish I could recall any part of the conversation with Alex, any of the questions, or even the name of the show. I do remember that Alex, a professional and a gentleman, played it like the real thing. Watching him on Jeopardy years later, I saw the same personality he showed in that mocked-up show. Oh, and I remember that I won both games, each worth $10,000. Alas, it was play money. The show, for whatever reason, never made it past that stage.
            
Tribal Rites of the New Saturday Night

New York published a story in 1976 by British writer Nik Cohn, Tribal Rites of the New Saturday Night (on which I had first read), about a group of young people in a Brooklyn disco. The story was the basis for the film Saturday Night Fever. I was Nik’s editor. When he arrived at the office one morning, he asked me what I was reading.

“The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter,” I replied.

Nik smirked, and then called across the room to where contributing writer Jon Bradshaw (Debbie referred to the two men as “the scornful Brits”) sat: “The heart is indeed a lonely hunter, Jon.” 

The staff later attended the premiere of Saturday Night Fever, after which we all went once again to Tavern on the Green to celebrate with the cast and the Bee Gees, whose music enlivened the soundtrack. The after-parties were always better and far more entertaining than the films.

To be continued