Saxifrage

Does The Times Consider The 2009 Mets A Throwback To Jim Crow?

A slightly strange comment from New York Times sportswriter Ben Shpigel in yesterday's story about whether or not Marlon Anderson will win a spot as the last member of the New York Mets' bench:

If Anderson does not make the team, the Mets will begin the season without an African-American on their 25-man roster, an ill-timed development for an organization whose new ballpark, Citi Field, will honor Jackie Robinson with an ornate rotunda.

I suppose there is some technical definition of "African-American" under which this is true.  But I sure hope Ben Shpigel doesn't believe that, prior to Jackie Robinson, there were players on major-league rosters with complexions like those of Carlos Beltran, Johan Santana, or Jose Reyes and Carlos Delgado (seen above). 

This is not some sort of lily-white ball club we're talking about here.  Somehow I doubt Jackie Robinson would have been disturbed.

Times Demonstrates How Not To Break New Ground

In today's New York Times, Michael Winerip writes this about the Baby Boomers:

Since the 1960s, when many of us were teenagers, Madison Avenue along with the news media have been polling, interviewing, analyzing, poking and sniffing us, and that continues to this moment, even as nearly 10,000 boomers turn 60 every day. . . .

In their 2006 book, “Generation Ageless,” J. Walker Smith, president of Yankelovich, and Ann Clurman, a senior partner, sum up the generation this way: “For decades baby boomers have been chided for being self centered, self absorbed, self confident ... even narcissistic. There’s no argument here. Guilty as charged. But so what?”

What a defense.

And how have Winerip and the Times chosen to respond to the fact that everyone is sick of hearing from and about the Baby Boomers?  Why, by launching a new column about them--what else?

As a Boomer myself--and as someone who has actually written a little about the topic of generational change--I confess to finding the Boomer phenomenon reasonably interesting.  But my goodness--this is 2009!  Isn't it awfully late in the day to be focusing on the Boomers?  Even the notion that the Boomers have been analyzed, scrutinized, and written about to death is itself a wearying journalistic cliche.  In other words, we're already bored with being bored by the Boomers.

I don't think this is the kind of move that bodes well for the continuing relevance of print journalism.

 

 

So Long Real World

As part of their presidential transition coverage, the news networks have been running stories about the physical details of life for the First Family--the presidential-seal buckles on the seat belts in Air Force One, the five-inch-thick armor plating on the sides of the presidential limousine, etc. etc.  The TV hosts present these stories with a benign air of "Oh how cool!"  In fact however I find them deeply depressing. 

One of the reasons Obama's election was so cheering is that it gives us a president who is something like a "real person," meaning someone I could imagine knowing--an urban guy who lived in a crummy rented apartment while attending Columbia University, surfs the Internet, reads books with his daughters, and so on.  Now he is entering this bubble which is like something out of the fantasy life of a James Bond villain. 

No wonder Obama is so desperate to hang on to his Blackberry--he is quite right to be worried about the danger of losing touch.  We can only hope that--unlike Bush--he may be self-aware enough to recognize when it is happening and caring enough to fight against it.

Obama Gives A Sober Address

. . . extremely well suited to the times--not just in its recognition of the dangers and difficulties we face, but in its frank acknowledgement of how far astray we have gone.  For the first time in a long, long time we've heard a presidential address that is short on bombast, self-congratulation, and hubris, and long on humility, honesty, and a bracing sense of challenge. 

I was hoping to be impressed, and I was.

My First Tears

. . . on Inauguration Day are for the televised image of Sasha and Malia with their grandmother, walking through the Capitol building on their way to the ceremonial platform, wearing big smiles and looking utterly composed and delightful.  What a family, what a day.

Arrogant To The End

It would be nice to think that today is the last day we'll ever need to think about George W. Bush or his disastrous administration.  Unfortunately, we know from sad experience that that's not the case--that we'll be trying to erase the stains he leaves behind for decades to come.  (Many of us believe that the nation never really got past the damage inflicted by Richard Nixon.)

As the final hours of Bush's regime wind down, I find myself specifically disgusted by his behavior in regard to the Iraqi journalist who threw his shoes at him. As the Times has reported, al-Zaidi has been held incommunicado since December 21, may have been beaten and tortured since his arrest, and faces seven years in prison for his absurd and purely symbolic "crime."

I find it deeply embarrassing that President Bush hasn't publicly spoken up in defense of al-Zaidi or personally intervened with the Iraqi government on his behalf.  The fact that this president who has spent the last few weeks eagerly--even desperately--trying to burnish his reputation as a "compassionate conservative" has passed up this obvious opportunity to actually do something compassionate tells us all we need to know about what his real values are. 

Evidently Bush finds it appropriate for the Iraqi government to respond to al-Zaidi's insult to Bush in tyrannical fashion.  (Deep down, he probably regrets not having had the same kind of powers to use against his critics at home.)

Bush remains what he has always been--a petty, self-absorbed, arrogant man who is apparently incapable of feeling sincere concern for anyone other than himself and his closest friends. Good riddance.

Media Businesses--No Need To Die?

Over at Talking Points Memo, one of Josh Marshall's correspondents offers some further thoughts on the economics of newspaper publishing:

I have done a significant amount of strategic planning and management consulting work with major metro newspapers over the past 10 years and saw much of this coming via scenario-based planning in the late 90's.

The problems are well documented by now - classified advertising (the most profitable part of the old print model) is done much better and much more cheaply online, young (and not so young) readers prefer the immediacy of the online channel, core display advertising clients have consolidated (fewer department stores, cellular providers, etc.). Meanwhile, advertising revenues always fall in a down economy (and this is a very down economy).

But, most of these businesses are still fine on an operating basis (i.e., they make money before interest and taxes). Having gone public (seemed like a good idea at the time given the 20% margins, etc.) and subsequently having been leveraged to the hilt, they are getting killed on debt-service as well as in the public equity markets (which prices assets based on future growth potential). For goodness sakes, every single operating entity owned by the now bankrupt Tribune Company is making money - but, Sam Zell (and John Madigan before him) loaded the company up with so much debt, there is no way out other than a bankruptcy judge.

Having spent my life in book publishing, I'm no expert on the newspaper business.  But the underlying point here is one that applies to lots of media businesses, including book publishing.  There are perfectly viable business models that media companies can live by--provided their owners don't expect the financial returns to match those produced by the highest-flying, fastest-growth industries. 

When Wall Street decides that every company ought to go public, take on debt, and try to grow at 12 to 20 percent a year, it creates expectations that are ridiculous and sustainable.  And one side effect is the labeling of entire economic sectors, like media, as "losers," just because they can't match the performance of a Google or a Wal-Mart.  The problem isn't so much with media businesses as it is with the reductionist thinking of some business analysts who think one set of financial expectations should fit all.

My Death Plot Finally Fells Trammell Crow

Trammell Crow died on Wednesday at the age of 94.  The name may mean nothing to you, but if you ever lived in the South or West--particularly in his native Texas--it probably rings a bell, at least from signs at construction sites.  Crow was one of the world's most successful and creative real estate developers--an innovator in business methods, one of the first people to build hotels and office buildings with atria, and a daring financial risk-taker who won his bets far more often than he lost (buoyed, no doubt, by the explosive growth of the sun belt states during the prime years of his career).  

Crow was also a minor figure in some dramatic moments of history--for example, Crow was the master of ceremonies at a gala reception in 1963 who had to take to the podium in the Dallas Merchandise Mart to announce that President Kennedy had been shot on his way to the event.  He was also, as I personally discovered, quite a cantankerous character. 

Back in 1989, I was a publisher at John Wiley & Sons when we hired Robert Sobel, a business professor and a prolific author, to write an authorized biography of Crow.  Sobel worked on the book for months, studying company archives and interviewing Crow and his associates repeatedly.  The book had been announced, pre-sold to bookstores, and was ready to publish when Sobel called me with bad news: Trammell Crow had gotten wet feet and was demanding that we cancel the publication.

I flew down to Dallas with Sobel to meet with Crow in an effort to salvage the project.  Crow was perfectly nice to me; after I'd been trying for an hour to persuade him of the merits of the book, he remarked, "You're just the kind of young man I like to have working for me.  Call me if you ever get tired of working in publishing."  But he was also unyielding.  If Wiley published the book, he insisted, he would sue us.  When I pointed out that we had a valid contract giving us the right to publish, he replied, "That may be.  But I've got plenty of lawyers.  We can keep you tied up quite a while and cost you a lot of money.  It's your choice."

Crow's motivation baffled me.  The book painted Crow and his company in a flattering light, not a negative one.  And no matter how I pleaded with Crow to explain his objections, he refused to do so, simply repeating, "I don 't want that book published.  No reason--it's just my decision"--until nearly the end of our conversation, when I inadvertently struck a chord.

Trying one last argument to get Crow to change his mind, I suggested, "Mr. Crow, don't you realize your future employees will read this book to learn about how you built the business?  It'll be an inspiring part of your legacy as a businessman--something to be proud of."

Crow opened his eyes wide.  "Oh, I understand all that!  I know this book will be my legacy.  In fact, once it's published, I might as well retire and die!"

Suddenly it all became clear.  For Crow, having his biography published would be like winning a Lifetime Achievement Award--it would symbolize The End of his career.  Crow was actually afraid to let us publish the book, as if it might even be his death warrant.

There was no point in arguing with logic like that.  I thanked Crow for his time and flew back to New York. 

The story had a happy ending.  After conferring with my boss and our lawyers, we decided that, because we did indeed have a valid publishing contract, we would go ahead and publish the book after all--in effect defying Crow to sue us.  I had my heart in my throat as we did so.  But Crow never did sue us.  In fact, when the book reached our warehouse several months after the meeting in Dallas, we got word from Crow's company that they wanted to buy several thousand copies to give away to employees and clients.

Now Crow has passed away--almost twenty years after his biography was published.  If my book was responsible, its fatal impact was certainly slow-acting. 

General Motors Is One Thing--But the New York Times?

Updated below

I suppose everyone has had, or will have, their own moment when the Great Recession really hits home--when it becomes something they take personally rather than as an abstraction.

So far my wife and I have been lucky.  Mary-Jo's workplace is largely dependent on state government funding, but the agency has found ways to trim expenses without having to cut professional staff.  And writing projects have continued to fall into place for me, despite the depressing news emanating from many book publishing quarters. 

This means that, as far as my personal experience is concerned--not counting family and friends, where the news is more mixed--this has felt not much worse than a typical downturn.  I've been around long enough to remember past recessions, which affected book publishing much like the current one.  There was a lot of talk about publishers reducing their seasonal lists, being more disciplined about author advances, and trimming needless expenses like lavish sales conferences and pricey lunches.  After a year or two, the storm clouds parted and the old profligate ways gradually re-emerged.

This year has felt pretty much like those past recessions.  None of the book projects in my pipeline have gotten cancelled or delayed.  I even heard from one past client who reported that his editor had phoned him out of the blue to say, "Do you have a new book idea by any chance?  There's an open spot in my list for Fall/Winter '09 and I'd love to see a proposal from you."  I took it as a good sign--that at least one publisher sees the current slump as an opportunity to get aggressive and snatch business from its rivals rather than assuming a defensive crouch.

So although I know in my head that this recession is shaping up as The Big One of my lifetime, I didn't really feel it in my gut until I read these paragraphs from Michael Hirschorn's article in the new Atlantic:

Virtually all the predictions about the death of old media have assumed a comfortingly long time frame for the end of print—the moment when, amid a panoply of flashing lights, press conferences, and elegiac reminiscences, the newspaper presses stop rolling and news goes entirely digital. Most of these scenarios assume a gradual crossing-over, almost like the migration of dunes, as behaviors change, paradigms shift, and the digital future heaves fully into view. The thinking goes that the existing brands—The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Wall Street Journal—will be the ones making that transition, challenged but still dominant as sources of original reporting.

But what if the old media dies much more quickly? What if a hurricane comes along and obliterates the dunes entirely? Specifically, what if The New York Times goes out of business—like, this May?

It’s certainly plausible. Earnings reports released by the New York Times Company in October indicate that drastic measures will have to be taken over the next five months or the paper will default on some $400 million in debt. With more than $1 billion in debt already on the books, only $46 million in cash reserves as of October, and no clear way to tap into the capital markets (the company’s debt was recently reduced to junk status), the paper’s future doesn’t look good.

For someone in the writing business, the idea that the New York Times--the behemoth that has loomed over my consciousness as the American newspaper since I first learned to read; the paper that, with all its flaws and shortcomings, still rises head and shoulders above any other news source I know--the idea that this Times could collapse in the next six months, or get swallowed up by Rupert Murdoch's News Corp, is about as close to apocalypse as I can imagine.

And I certainly am not crazy about the possibility of hundreds of first-rate writers and editors being out on the street looking for work and competing with people like me for the comfortable little freelance niches we've painstakingly carved out over the years.

I understand--again, intellectually--that the collapse of the Big Three Detroit automakers would have a much bigger impact on the American economy and millions of workers than that of the Times.  But as a white-collar New Yorker who hasn't owned an American car in decades, I honestly don't find it that hard to imagine a world where GM, Ford, and Chrysler have become mere subsidiaries of Toyota, Honda, and Mitsubishi, and their brand names have vanished forever.

But a world where the Times won't show up on my doorstep every morning?  Or where, if it does, it's yet another right-wing mouthpiece for Murdoch?

Now that's scary.

Update

Over at Columbia Journalism Review, Megan Garber faults Hirschorn for exaggerating the imminence of the threat to the Times's survival.  In literal terms she is probably right--even Hirschorn acknowledges that it's unlikely that the newspaper will actually disappear in May.  But the financial data Garber cites in pooh-poohing Hirschorn's glum prognostication isn't actually very reassuring.  I'm sure it's true, as she says, that the Times can put its hand on another $400 million or so in credit and so keep paying its bills.  But with ad revenues tumbling because of the Great Recession and no sign that either the Times or any other newspaper has actually come up with a business model that will work in the Internet age, that looks like a stopgap measure at best.  Mortgaging your future is bad enough--it's even worse when there's no clear evidence you actually have a future.

Two Footnotes to the Great Recession

Everyone has some stories to share about how the current economic meltdown is touching them or the people they know.  Here are two of mine.

Mary-Jo and I are planning a trip to Disney World in Florida with our grandkids in April.  We'll be traveling during Easter Week, which is traditionally the busiest (and most profitable) week of the entire year for Disney.

Last week, I called to make a couple of dinner reservations at Epcot.  The service agent was very helpful and explained that I had actually called several days too early.  "We accept reservations at most of our restaurants starting 90 days in advance," she said, "so you need to call back next week."

I thanked her and was ready to hang up when she added, "But you could make a reservation for Cinderella's Table if you like.  We take those up to 180 days in advance."

I was stunned.  Cinderella's Table is the faux medieval "banquet hall" inside the iconic castle that is the visual focal point of the Magic Kingdom.  It is the sine qua non of Disney dining--so much so that the Insider's Guide to Disney World, the brilliant guidebook we've relied on when planning all of our Disney trips, devotes several pages to the elaborate strategy required to bag a reservation there.  (You're advised to call starting at 9 a.m. precisely 180 days before the date you plan to dine, to use speed dial to get past the inevitable busy signals, and to be prepared to talk really fast--"Ineedbreakfastfor4atCindy'sonthethirteenthatninethirty"--lest you lose your slot to a caller on another line.)  Under normal circumstances, controlling the Cinderella's Table franchise gives Disney a license to print money. 

I hadn't even bothered to ask about Cinderella's Table because I assumed it would be fully booked--Easter Week of all weeks.  I said as much to the agent.

"No," she said, "we're not fully booked.  In fact we have openings all that week."  I reserved a table for lunch.  If the Great Recession keeps up, maybe David Chang will be calling and begging me to accept a couple of seats for dinner at Momofuku Ko.

My second story is a Bernie Madoff tale from one of the three acquaintances I know who were formerly investors with him.  Two of the three lost big sums in Madoff's alleged Ponzi scheme, but the third (I'll call him S.) withdrew his money well before the collapse.

"I'd invested in Madoff through a financial advisor," S. told me, "and the returns were very good.  But I like to understand how my investments work, and the more I read about Madoff's supposed strategy, the less sense it made to me.  So I finally told my advisor to move my money elsewhere, and he did.  This was about seven years ago."

A few months later, S. and his advisor were having breakfast and reviewing his portfolio.  "By the way," the advisor commented, "I never told you this, but those Madoff people really raked me over the coals."

"What do you mean?" S. asked.

"I mean that when I called to withdraw your money, the guy on the line--not Bernie Madoff, one of his staffers--started cursing me out.  'We delivered the returns we promised, and now you're pulling your f*cking money?!  How the f*ck can you do this to us?  You goddam motherf*cker,' and so on.  He went on like that for ten minutes."

As you can imagine, S. was shocked.  This is not how investment professionals are supposed to act when you withdraw your money from your account.

"At the time," S. told me, "I had no idea what that was all about.  Now it makes sense."

My friend's story may not be admissable in a court of law, but if other investors come forward with similar tales, it'll certainly support the notion that Bernie Madoff wasn't the only person at his firm who had some inkling that the whole grand edifice was really just a house of cards.  Interesting times we live in.