Rolling Stone editor and publisher Jann Wenner announced yesterday that Will Dana, who's handled much of the magazine's national and political coverage, has been promoted to managing editor. Dana's been with the magazine since 1996 and, since then, he's ascended through the ranks, most recently as deputy managing editor, ensuring that Fuel and Incubus receive ample monthly coverage.
As public service to those of you desperate for some Monday morning comedy, we'd like to post a quick follow-up to our (heartbreaking) scoop regarding the existential trauma over at the New York Sun. As reported by the Post, an internal memo listing the names and salaries of expendable employees fell into Gawker's hands as follows:
My personal favorite piece from the kids at The New York Review of Magazines can be found here: it's Leslie Hendrickson's Guess what: Glossies may be good for you. Working on the principle that almost anything can be spun as a positive if you simply lower the bar enough, Hendrickson praises Cosmo and its ilk for all the valuable health and lifestyle information to be found amidst the fellatio how-tos. [W]here can women go when they have questions that they're too embarrassed to ask? Not everything merits a visit to the doctor's office. Women's magazines are a good place to start. Or, I don't know, the Internet? The library? Look, I'm not saying that there aren't women who get their health information from women's magazines. I'm sure that there are plenty of people who learn how to parent from The More You Know, too. That doesn't mean I want to keep them in the gene pool. On the other hand, if the Glamour subscription is saving money on doctor visits and telling her the ten things I'm thinking about when we're in bed, there may be something to it after all. Nice job, Leslie. AB
It's Friday the 13th, Steve Wasserman is ditching the LA Times Book Review, and all other media news has gone to shit (which may or may not be our fault). Case in point: the Deadline Awards from the Society of Professional Journalists (inexplicable trophy pictured at right). Now, Yahweh knows no one 'round here is "professional," and we're certainly not "journalists," but, well, this thing has us scratching our stupid little heads. Like, the award for best investigative reporting goes to The Herald, beat reporting to The Journal News — but which ones?! Clearly, a hyperlink or, dare we say it, any sort of elaboration would be far too informative. Professional journalists just don't play like that.
Like Dave Chappelle, we hear voices. And sometimes, the voices tell us things about the state of unrest at BusinessWeek. Jon Fine, the mag newborn media columnist, reportedly has some staffers getting pissy. Specifically, it's not the typical BW protocol to bring in an Outsider for a Big Position, especially when said position happens to be a major column that, coincidentally, no one even knew was in the works. Not that any of this is Fine's fault, but he might want to keep an eye on his coffee mug.
If traditional journalism and blogging are at opposite ends of the spectrum, Greg Lindsay must truly be considered a man who goes both ways. In a mediabistro piece addressed to graduating j-school students, Lindsay advises his young charges to question everything they've learned, particularly the value of j-school itself. A wide-ranging missive of Bourdieuan (the journalist, not the math guy) analysis, Lindsay's exhortations to a group of kids whose folks are now out $30 grand ranks as one of the harshest, most unflinching looks at journalism's future and their place in it since MediaBistro editor Elizabeth Spiers told potential freelancers that if they couldn't afford the meal, they shouldn't walk past the restaurant. Whether or not these nascent journos will follow Lindsay's advice remains to be seen, but they'd be wise to do so: This is the equivalent of learning the Gospel from Jesus Himself. AB
Morbidly obese municipal union leader Mark Rosenthal, not pictured at right because we couldn't find a photo small enough, showed up at City Hall yesterday with a request: Pass legislation that would require city hospitals and ambulances to be better equipped to deal with the massively overweight. We've no interest in debating whether or not our critical care facilities should be taken out a little to accommodate the Twinkie-eating machines who clog our streets every day or if that money might be better used to provide some sort of citywide jaw-wiring program; what we find fascinating about this story is the way its coverage so perfectly encapsulates the four area papers' personalities. Below, heds for each: Try guessing which comes from where. (If you get all four, reward yourself with Hardee's Thickburger , and don't worry about the extra pounds: SUV-sized ambulances are on the way!) AB
Sometimes in the pursuit of a hearty chuckle a guest-editor-blogger goes a bit over the line, making a joke at the expense of a defenseless person who, no matter how frequent and frightening her e-mails are, has feelings and emotions just like the rest of us. It doesn't happen often but, when it does, it's time for that guest-editor-blogger to stand up and say, I'm sorry.
Yesterday's contretemps with Nikki Finke left us feeling a bit shaken up and singled out. But as it happens, Nikki is an equal-opportunity angry letter-writer. In response to her L.A. Weekly colleague Mark Cooper's criticism of her Huffington coverage, Ms. Finke responded with a ten-point pr cis establishing her credentials and questioning Cooper's ("a spineless coward," "lazy and boring," "you might want to get help.") We're not sure what to be more upset about, the fact that Ms. Finke clearly has her bonafides bit saved somewhere for instant reprisal messages (we're guessing she's got it templated in the F3 key or something), or the fact that Cooper got a much more detailed blastback than we did.
From the lofty precincts of The Sun (I know, but follow me for a minute) we descend to the urine-soaked gutter. The New York Press, the discerning homeless person's second-favorite choice of bed linens, also seems to be taking a hard line with some of its staff. According to a source at the paper, publisher (and recent Vegas migr ) Chris Rohland has canned Jim Knipfel's weekly Scent of a Woman column on the grounds that it isn't New Yorky enough. (Our source claims the real reason has something to do with a column Knipfel wrote that complained about being moved from an office to a cubicle; you can't get more New Yorky than that.) Whether you see this as a case of editorial good judgment or a fit of personal pique is unimportant; what you want to take away here is this: Chris Rohland fired a blind man. Talk about insulting your paper's major demographic. AB
The New York Sun — yes, it's still around — isn't doing so well, and it would seem that deputy managing editor Robert Messenger is on the case. According to a tragic email sent our way, Messenger wants to refocus the paper: it's time to confess that the Sun is no general-interest publication and restructure accordingly. Of course, he might not really care, because we also hear he's trying to move to The Atlantic.
In a previous item, we carelessly referred to LA Weekly s Nikki Finke as a notorious crackpot. Upon further reflection (and a brief note from Ms. Finke) we ve come to realize that Nikki Finke is, in fact a former AP foreign correspondent in Moscow and London, Newsweek correspondent in Washington DC and Los Angeles, staff writer for the Los Angeles Times, West Coast Editor for the New York Observer and then New York Magazine, etc. Furthermore, having strong opinions like she does, "sourcing those opinions with accurate journalism, and expressing them literately, does not make her a crackpot or notorious. It makes her a columnist with bonafides.
In fact, the more we think about it, the more we ve come to realize that not only is Nikki Finke not a notorious crackpot, she is in fact the Edward R. Murrow of alternative weekly papers that make most of their money off of the tranny ads in the back. Gawker regrets the error. Please don t cut us. AB
There was a fire drill at Bauer mag HQ today, except it wasn't so much a drill. There was actually a fire. But it turned out wasn't in the building itself, and thank God for that. Because we don't know how we'd get through the week without In Touch Weekly. A Gawker spy files the full report:
The new Folio: is out (yup, it still exists), and it reports that Reader's Digest (yup, it still exists) will soon be hitting its 1,000th issue.
In chronological order, from past to present:
A Gawky congratulations to Jon Fine, former Advertising Age slave and mediabistro founder Laurel Touby's arm candy devoted husband, who will be writing a weekly media column for BusinessWeek. Funny, we somehow missed the "Major Biz Title Seeks Weekly Columnist" listing amongst all the editorial assistant ads on the 'bistro.
In honor of our sister-in-ink Nikki Finke, who famously said, explaining why she rarely writes for magazines anymore, "I'm not 24 years old. I'm not making stuff up .And I don't kiss up to the idiots who decide which stars magazines can and can't put on their covers, Gawker hereby announces its first annual Awful P.R. Award. Write us with your scariest horror stories about PR-people-from-hell (subject line: For Nikki) and we ll print them all week long. C'mon, don't be scared. So what if you piss off half the sling-back-wearers in town? You can always become a blogger! And so what if you're never invited anywhere again? Look at it this way, you'll lose out on those nifty Kiehl's samples in the gift-bags, but you'll never have to look at Shaggy again. —MG
Nikki Finke Chews on the Bones of 'GQ'
This morning, we quoted a piece regarding Apple wizard Steve Jobs in which he used an "eight letter expletive." Sure, the word in question was probably something innocent like "bullshit," but we'd like to think Jobs is more creative than that. We asked you to think outside the box and send in your eight-letter brilliance, and you responded with wit and wisdom. After the jump are your ever-so-blue creations, which should come in handly next time the ATM pulls some twatfrob and won't let you withdraw enough cash for the dogcunty cab fare.
