Chasing the Blues

Times-Picayune Retreats

The big news of Thursday was that the New Orleans Times-Picayune will cut back its print edition to three days a week. The New York Times thought the story worthy of the front page. The newspaper's arc from horrible rag to Pulitzer-winning newspaper, community hero during Katrina and now diminished publication continues, with the next step presumably no print edition at all, with just a web site. The move will also result in an undisclosed number of staff layoffs.

The Newhouse family's Advance Publications also announced a similar reduction at papers in Mobile, Birmingham and Huntsville, Ala. These are the type of midsized towns where daily newspapers were believed to have continued strength, unlike major metro areas like Philadelphia and Chicago. The Newhouses a few years ago halted print publication all together in Ann Arbor, Mich., a college town that would supposedly be a strong newspaper market. Perhaps the only future for print newspapers are suburban shoppers or small town weeklies.

Even when the Picayune was horrible, it always captured the local flavor of New Orleans with local columnists and features. News was another story, as if the paper like the city it served lacked a serious work ethic. Then the paper stirred itself with a strong series on the endangered oceans and Louisiana's coastal disappearance, before serving as the major information source during the Katrina flooding. The newspaper in the early days of the Katrina disaster was able to play its role because of its web site, with the print side out of operation. Now, the web site will be the sole source of information four days a week. The Picayune will publish on Wednesday, Friday and Sunday come this fall, not even giving Monday print coverage of Saints games.

Before the paper's renaissance, the Newhouse family was notorious for milking profits without putting adequate resources into the newspaper, and longtime Picayune watchers will wonder if they are crying wolf here and cutting back out of greed. Still, the Picayune's print circulation has plunged from 260,000 to 130,000 since Katrina, reflecting a similar drop in the city's population, although that is coming back.

The NYT article claimed that the Picayune is a fixture at New Orleans barbershops and coffeeshops. Readers there would have helped the paper by actually buying it.

Facebook Goes Public

Facebook with its IPO Friday takes the stage as the latest Internet-era company to defy grafity. Already GM is pulling its ads from the social media site, whose money-making ability appears out of balance with its exorbitant suggested stock price.

The Wall Street Journal's excellent, if at times inscrutable, Holman Jenkins pointed to Facebook's problem: Ads cluttering the site will take away from its spontaneity and personal appeal. The best path for the company would be to partner with other media companies; Jenkins points to the Washington Post, an old-line media firm with whom Facebook's Mark Zuckerberg has built ties.

On the eve of its IPO, Facebook's value looks inflated, more the product of hype and buzz than the reality of its ability to make profits. Facebook is good for "friends" to share the trivia of their lives, but Twitter has proven itself a better site for instant sigificant news. With GM pulling its paid ads in favor of remaining on the site with free marketing material, Facebook's appeal as an adverising medum is also under question. As Jenkins points out, Facebook after its IPO will have to build true equity as a media property. If not, Facebook, like an old cartoon character. will find itself hanging off the cliff in midair and sinking.

 

 

 

 

 

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Farewell, Nicholas Katzenbach

In my morning perusal of The New York Times the other day, I saw an image indelibly etched in my memory bank, from 1962 or so, of Kennedy-era Assistant Attorney General Nicholas Katzenbach confronting Alabama Gov. George Wallace at the University of Alabama's entrance.

As absurd as it may seem to today's young people, Katzenbach had arrived in Tuscaloosa to enforce the entry of black students to the state university, and Wallace vowed to keep them out. Katzenbach prevailed,and Wallace backed down, a major development in the eventual victory of civil rights.

Back in those days, the events of the civil rights movement and other historical occurrences played out in black and white television, which I watched when I came home from school. Long before CNN and Fox News, the then three networks NBC, CBS and ABC covered the news, breaking into daily programming to give live reports of history in the making. So, I have a vivid memory of the situation captured in the Times photograph, having watched it at home, no doubt hoping for the quick broadcast of one of the local shows that took up the afternoon, my favorite being Count Macabre, who showed old horror movies such as Frankenstein and Dracula.

The photograph illustrated the Times' obituary of Katzenbach, frequently dispatched by the Kennedy administration to hot spots in the deep South. I remembered well the tall, avuncular and well-tailored Katzenbach from TV news that brought the civil rights struggles into our den. Until reading the obituary for Katzenbach, I'd forgotten that he'd gone on to be attorney general under Lyndon Johnson. Katzenbach is also a leading supporting actor in documentaries I've seen about the Kennedy era. I remember one in which he and Bobby Kennedy talk on the phone, chatting about their children and so forth, until Katzenbach tells of efforts to get James Meredith into Ole Miss or some such event.

The obituary gives a complete picture of Katzenbach's extraordinary life, from his days at Princeton then Yale Law, to his service during World War II and for the U.S. government, before a distinguished career as a lawyer in later life. Katzenbach was not one of the major characters of the '60s, but even secondary figures from the time are imbued with greatness.

 

The Saints, and Saint Tebow

A lovely winter Saturday, waiting to see if the Saints can whip the 49ers. After the LSU BCS debacle, I would love the healing of a Saints win. As usual, the Saints-49ers game holds SEC ties, with Ole Miss' Patrick Willis leading the '49er defense. I remember him almost single handedly beating LSU on a game I heard over the crackling radio signal from WWL. Only a four or five years ago, unlike today, every game wasn't televised.

After the Saints, I won't be able to hold myself away from watching Tim Tebow and the Broncos take on the Patriots. Saint Tim vs. cool Tim a week after Saint Tim vs. Randy Ben. Now Tebow's really receiving the big media attention, with a front page feature Saturday by The New York Times' Dan Barry and a sidebar by Richard Sandimor, and pieces in the Wall Street Journal.

Funny, Barry used a Jim Thorpe reference about Tom Brady, when I see Tebow as a throwback to the old NFL guys of the 1920s. The way he plunges forward, not sliding to the ground to avoid being hit like other NFL qbs (such as Brady) brings to mind Bronco Nagurski. The kid had some pretty good throws against the Steelers, and it looks as if the Broncos have come up with some plays going left to help him with his southpaw throws. Tebow also reminds me of old guys like Billy Kilmer and Bobby Layne who weren't the greatest passers in the world but just knew how to win. 

The Journal even had a thumb-sucker about whether Tim's wins are divinely inspired. That seems ridiculous, but who knows? In most cases, I would be put off by someone who makes as big a show of religion as Tebow does, but I find his "Tebowing" and praise of Jesus something new and different. It looks like honest emotion, something all too rare in America these days. With all of his modesty and affirmation of his virginity, Tebow does endorse Jockey shorts. I was amused to see that Jockey has posted a photo of Tebow on its web site, wearing Jockeys with no shirt. Hmmm, there is something gay about the way Tim talks. And what's with that beard?

Along with old-time NFL players from the Red Grange era, Tebow recalls a much older tradition, the medieval virtuous knight. His popularity/notoriety proves the power of even ancient cultural icons.

The NFL always succeeds in capturing the public's imagination. Major League baseball and the NBA can't ever find anything as dramatic and controversial as Tebow. God might not be backing the Broncs, but the NfL surely may be. If the Broncos win tonight, will we start to suspect that the games are rigged to get Tebow to the Super Bowl? I generally eschew conspiracy theory thinking, but sometimes I wonder. Just imagine the Saints vs. the Saint. 

August, the Dog Days, or is that old man wolf howling at the door?

Another long assumed certainty crumbles: the U.S. no longer has a AAA credit rating. Chatterers on CNN say don't worry, it really means nothing. The Wizard of Oz scenario once more; pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.

Nothing better to do while waiting for the Apocalypse and or the start of college football season than to deeply engage with the Braves. Now they are playing at the Mets' Citi field. Although the Mets are severely diminished, another victim of the financial crash except for the splendid Reyes, the Braves playing there always seems more like real baseball than when they're playing against a team like the Arizona Diamondbacks, which could disappear tomorrow and I wouldn't care. New York among other things means baseball to me. 

Of course, watching the Braves on TV pushes my tolerance for the cornball announcer Chip Caray, who shows little of the talent for low-rent humor of his dad, Skip, or his grandad, Harry. Recently, I escaped Chip by listening to the Braves on the radio with Don Sutton and whoever his partner is. Sutton and pal give more insightful analysis and a more pointed, adult humor. But, I like to watch on TV. Perhaps I'll turn down the sound and listen to the radio.

Last night, the Braves at last bested the Mets behind Dan Uggla's amazing revival. The Braves broke through when the Mets removed their young knuckleballer R.A. Dickey, one of the traditionalists who wears his uniform trousers above his stockings. Watching Dickey's knuckleballs, I wanted the pitch to be banned, like the spitball. Although I loved Phil Niekro, and even Hoyt Wilhelm, the knuckleball seems bogus, based on trickery more than skill. Dickey appears to be an OK guy, a bit nervous, but I say throw the slider, the fastball, the curve or get out of the game. Ban the knuckleball!

Even my TV viewing's lost, after the end of "Treme." I watched the three episodes of a strange little show on PBS, "Zen," which starred Rufus Sewell as a detective in Rome. I liked the depiction of the ancient, corrupt Italian city, and a luscious Italian actress who after making it as a Bond girl to Daniel Craig now does three-episode Masterpiece series shows. I'm unable to get back to "Curb Your Enthusiasm" and "Entourage," both of which I've already buried. 

So, after long days of eyeball-searing work, I ruin the old orbs even further with reading. Faulkner's "The Hamlet," a long tome on World War I, books on Huey Long, Jonathan Yardley, the New Yorker, Commonweal, the Kenyon Review, the New York Review of Books, The New York Times. At times, I'll sit down and play the piano, lately I've been practicing on "Rally Round the Flag Boys."

 

Roy Halladay Grabs a Piece of Baseball History

Phillies ace Roy Halladay's no-hitter against the Cincinnati Reds in the first round of the National League playoffs won't have the mythical status of Don Larsen's perfect game in the 1956 World Series, but it's a worthy achievement.

At this time of year, articles abound about great baseball feats from the past, and we are reminded that once upon a time, the World Series was played in the first week of October. This week, the venerable New York Times columnist Dave Anderson looked back at the Brooklyn Dodgers' only World Series championship, in 1955, when they beat the Yankees. Anderson talked to one of the last remaining Boys of Summer, pitcher Carl Erskine, about the Dodgers' win in Yankee Stadium behind the pitcher Johnny Podres. The next year, the Yankees' Larsen threw his perfect game against the same Dodgers and the Yankees returned to their familiar role as champions. So many of our memories of postseason baseball come from the Yankees, Dodgers and New York Giants.

Having wild card teams in postseason play is well-established, but the extra round of playoffs still dilutes the entire postseason competition. Halladay's feat is fine, but if it had occurred in a World Series or League Championship Series, it would have more weight.

Now major league baseball will consider expanding the playoffs even further, a dubious proposition, especially if it pushes the World Series into early November.

In recent years, I've had little interest in the first round of the baseball playoffs, but this autumn, the Braves are in it, possibly Bobby Cox's swan song. And, the Giants are an interesting team. So, with the Braves making the postseason as a wild card team, I'll join the wild card chorus.

Eddie Fisher, Tony Curtis and Arthur Penn's Hollywood Moments

We used to say in the news business that deaths occurred in threes; recently we've had Eddie Fisher, Arthur Penn and Tony Curtis, an interesting trio. Eddie Fisher and Tony Curtis were among stars of the late '50s and early '60s, when I was heading into adolescence and discovering the world of Hollywood and celebrity.

I can't remember much about Fisher as a singer; he was best known for being the husband of first Debbie Reynolds and then Elizabeth Taylor, and the scandal of how he left the wholesome Reynolds for the sultry Liz was a staple of discussion during my mother's afternoon coffee circle and elsewhere. Plus, I remember the movie mags of the time with Eddie's picture splashed across the cover.

One of the first movies I remember going to by myself was "The Vikings," with Tony Curtis in the starring role of the film later lampooned by Monty Python. I remember Tony's Viking prince having his hand cut off, and still wondering how they managed the realistic stump. The New York Times obituary on Curtis said it was a myth that he uttered in his native Bronxese the line "Dere is de castle of ma faddah;" I could have sworn I heard him say it in "The Vikings," although the Times said he allegedly said it in another medieval costume drama. Like Fisher, Tony was a staple of the movie mags, and also had his share of glamourous broken marriages, including one to the lovely Janet Leigh.

Arthur Penn was the only death to warrant the New York Times front page, largely because his "Bonnie and Clyde" is seen as a major ground-breaking movie, bringing the end of the old star system of which Fisher and Curtis were late products. "Bonnie and Clyde" brought a new openness of violence, sex and social themes,foreshadowed in earlier movies such as Curtis' "Some Like It Hot," directed by Billy Wilder and also starring Jack Lemon and Marilyn Monroe in one of her most memorable performances. "Bonnie and Clyde," according to the Times, set the stage for a new era of "auteur" directors such as Francis Ford Coppolla and Martin Scorsese.

The Penn obit also included photos of the "Bonnie and Clyde" set showing Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway, the stars of the movie about the two Depression-era gangsters who terrorized the rural Southwest and, in the movie's telling, were raised into legendary, Robin Hood figures. Beatty has a different kind of look than Curtis and Fisher, a bit more rugged and ragged, yet also more feminine and vulnerable. The young Dunaway's beauty glows, even in the drab black and white photos in the gray Times.

Fisher, Curtis and Penn all are figures from vanished eras of Hollywood. Fisher and Curtis' studio- dominated times were ended by movies like Penn's "Bonnie and Clyde." But then Penn's era was curtailed by blockbuster movies like Stephen Spielberg's "Jaws." Each man had major success in their youths, but struggled to match that success in later life, although Curtis had quite a busy career as an actor and raconteur. Nowadays, it's hard to imagine Hollywood producing a movie like "Bonnie and Clyde," or one like "Some Like It Hot." Also, although the celebrity engine churns endlessly, no one holds our attention the way Eddie Fisher and Tony Curtis once did.

Vanity Fair Highlights Wall Street Journal-New York Times Battle

Vanity Fair magazine is one of my indulgences; I used to subscribe but stopped when the stacks of thick, slick issues grew alarmingly high. Now I resist buying the print copy every month, since most of its content is available online, where the amusing James Wolcott holds forth in his blog.

Yet, some issues compel me to buy the print copy, usually because I want to read one of the magazine's long, in-depth pieces on the page, since my patience runs out quickly when I try to read a substantial piece on the computer screen. I bought the new October issue, featuring a cover of Lindsay Lohan looking like Grace Kelly or perhaps Doris Day, to read Sarah Ellison's look at the Wall Street Journal-New York Times newspaper war.

I enjoy watching the war play out from the safety of my own den. We subscribe to both newspapers, which I diligently read, although I often let them pile up during the week. Many lovely Saturday mornings are consumed plowing through newsprint, the previous week's happenings consumed and tossed away in an inky blur.

Alas, our local issue of the Wall Street Journal lacks on of the key weapons of Wall Street Journal maven Rupert Murdoch's assault on the Times, the recently launched New York section. I did get hold of one of the WSJ local sections on a trip to NYC in late May, but the insert made little impression. The reviews have been lukewarm.

Ellison, a forrmer WSJ reporter who wrote a book about how Murdoch wrested the WSJ from the Bancroft family, gives an interesting portrait of the two companies, Murdoch's News Corp. and the Sulzbergers' NYT. She quotes an expert who sees it as the Corleones against the Royal Tannenbaums.

Since taking over the WSJ, Murdoch has moved the newspaper from its specialization in business and financial reporting, increasing its international news and coverage of politics, art, culture and sports. Now the WSJ is launching a stand-alone book review, in another attempt to invade one of the Times' strongholds. With its Personal Journal profiles of musicians, writers and artists, and strong weekend sections, the WSJ impressively covers cultural news. Some of its sports coverage strikes me as elitist and superficial, although I like Jason Gay's weeklly From the Couch column, although his wit is starting to fray.

While I miss the Journal's old business stories, such as the in-depth profiles of a company it used to run, I like the WSJ's international stories. The WSJ often has an interesting story that the Times, with all of its exhaustive coverage, has missed. Judging the two papers on covering the same events is interesting; they differ quite a bit in what they emphasize, their tone, their interpretation of vents. Overall, my impression is that the WSJ is clearer and more readable, the Times more detailed.

Also edifying is the difference between the two papers' editorial stances. On key issues, the economy most strikingly, the papers take totally opposing sides. On international economics, the WSJ shows a depth of knowledge that the Times struggles to match. On questions such as whether the Bush tax cuts should be continued, the Times arguments seem more original and reasoned, while the WSJ falls on formulaic GOP orthodoxy.

Ellison's piece is entertaining and informative to an old newspaper junkie like me. Yet, it leaves the impression of two dinosaurs battling each other in a doomed jungle.

No Bullet Holes in Louisiana State Capitol From Long Shooting

Among fascinating revelations in Times-Picayune reporter Robert Travis Scott's second article marking the 75th anniversary of Huey P. Long's asssassination is that the identations in a State Capitol hallway pointed out for years as bullet holes from the eventful night turn out to be just irregularities in the marble. Another myth collapsed.

While Scott mentions medical controversties in passing, the gist of the article is the continuing controversy over Long's death, about whether he was shot by the young doctor Carl Weiss or killed by a stray bodyguard's bullet. Scott uncovers fascinating evidence, incluind the late discovery of the .32 caliber pistol owned by Weiss. Weiss' son, Carl Weiss Jr., three months old at the time of the assassination, says his father didn't kill Long. In the 1980s, he had a cordial lunch with Huey's son, Sen. Russell Long.

Citing a variety of sources, the article ends without a definitive answer. Among the links in the Picayune report are a gallery of Long photos; a report by the MONY Life Insurance Co. that found the shooing "accidental";  a State Police report issued years after the slaying; and the newspaper's coverage of the shooting.

...An LSU fan's sign at the Chick-Fil-A game against North Carolina at the Georgia Dome: "Thanks to BP, we're Tarheels too."

...LSU will play the Oregon Ducks at Jerry Jones' palace in Dallas to open the 2011 football season. LSU will receive up to $3.5 million, and it will be a chance to expose the "LSU brand," according to an athletics department official. Glad to hear LSU is a brand, and that the football team remains profitable as the state slashes funding to the school's academic programs. If the school eventually closes its doors, at least the LSU football brand will remain. The Oregon Ducks are a brand too, if frequent appearances of their cute Duck mascot on ESPN is any indication. Of course, Oregon receives a bunch of money from another famed brand, Nike, which also gives equipment to LSU. So, "the Cowboys Classic" should be a great branding moment for all involved. 

Times-Picayune Series on Huey P. Long Death to Focus on Medical Controversies

Robert Travis Scott, capital bureau chief of the Times-Picayune, informs me that he'll have a second piece on the Huey P.Long Assassination in Wednesday's paper in which he'll examine the medical controversies surrounding the Kingfish's death. Wednesday marks the 75th anniversary of Long's shooting.

Rushed to Our Lady of the Lake Hospital, then right behind the capitol, just past the lake for which the hospital was named, Huey was fully conscious and remained coherent for a day or two before dying from a loss of blood. His wound was probably not mortal on its own, but a botched emergency surgery led to his death at the age of 42.

I'll leave it to Scoot to examine all of the details in Wednesday's piece. Now, I'd like to see him or some other reporter look at Huey's legacy for Louisiana today. Just off the top of my head, I'd say the state still suffers from a weak impulse toward democracy, which helped bring Long to power. Also, the state's fierce independent spirit and a streak of political paranoia still beat strong in events such as the Hurricane Katrina aftermath and the Gulf oil spill.

As Scott said in an e-mail, the medical problems and bad decisions surrounding Long's death are worth a book in themselves. I'll look forward to his account.