In the year after Murdoch bought the paper, probably sixty percent of the staff left. It took a sharp turn right. And was not as long feature friendly.
For one thing, Joyce, I didn't see the ending coming. Brilliant. You caught me.
But also, I agree with Capote. A reporter doesn't have to take notes. The Times backed me up on that when I wrote for "Public Lives." I was attending some do at the Waldorf Astoria ballroom. For Tom Hanks. It was 1999. I had gone to the ladies' room during a lull, and found myself in line behind Spielberg's step daughter. And what follower was just too delicious not to record. I worried I shouldn't have done it, but I was told, "You heard her say it, you identified yourself, you wrote it down immediately after. You are fine."
Because I introduced myself clearly by name and said I was from The New York Times. She said, "Oh, hello" and then proceeded to prattle on. Ok, I thought, You've been warned.
Here is what she said next.
When she left, I ran outside, grabbed a piece of paper and pen and started writing. I remembered everything she said. Filled in the other info, Filed that night:
TITLE: Small Talk In a Long Line
JESSICA CAPSHAW has learned not to cut into lines. ''I did one time, and this woman kicked me,'' she said to a friend in a line for the ladies' room outside the grand ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria on Thursday, after the Museum of the Moving Image's tribute to TOM HANKS..
So Miss Capshaw -- the 22-year-old stepdaughter of STEVEN SPIELBERG (the daughter of his wife, KATE CAPSHAW, by a previous marriage), asked another woman, ''Do you mind if I stand in front of you while I talk to my friend?''
Permission granted. And so a three-way conversation began.
First she talked about her father's speech introducing Mr. Hanks and how she had thought about going to the ladies' room then.
''He went on for so long, but I just couldn't leave,'' she said. Nor could she leave when Mr. Spielberg showed clips from home movies (his) with Mr. Hanks clowning around.
''I mean, I've known Tom since I was 12,'' she said. ''I'm 22 now. That's'' -- long pause -- ''half my life. The home movies -- one scene was at my party.''
The line moved forward. She tripped on the hem of her black evening gown.
''And then Tom came on, and of course I couldn't leave then,'' she said. ''Have you ever had a dress so long you kept tripping on it? I mean, I've got really high heels on under this, so you don't know how short I really am.''
She did not appear short at all. About 5 foot 6.
''Actually I borrowed this dress from my mom,'' she said. ''And the pink shawl? It's not Pashmina, which is like what, $4,000? It's a $50 Tibetan shawl I got from a friend at Brown.''
The line moved again. ''So this woman from Woman's Wear Daily asked me what I was wearing. And I didn't want to disappoint her and say I borrowed the dress and I did my own hair in 15 minutes -- I mean, I'm from Missouri. Literally: I was born in Missouri. I know how to handle curlers. So I told the woman I didn't want to say the name of the designer, and the shawl being Pashmina? Why not?''
By now she was almost at the ladies' room. ''So I graduated from Brown last May and then I went to L.A.'' Here she left out the part about appearing in the 1997 film ''The Locusts'' with VINCE VAUGHN and PAUL RUDD.
''I had some work,'' she said, ''and then I got cast in this pilot, by the guys who wrote 'Something About Mary.' ''
Was this ''Rosewell High,'' the sitcom that Mr. Hanks's son COLIN was in?
''No,'' she said, ''they asked me to be in that one, but I went with this one, 'Odd Man Out,' for ABC.''
In the ladies' room, she added, ''We'll know if it gets picked up May 18.''
Washing hands, she introduced the friend from the line (remember?). ''This is the daughter of my headmaster in my school in L.A.,'' she said. ''You meet all kinds of people here. Wish me luck!''
If only I had Capote's career with my "Night Out" columns
I love this item. It's the fly on the ladies' room wall. I can remember a few lines if they are really vivid and I write them down -- there are a few that are so wild they are seared into your brain -- but that is an impressive amount to remember. And she rattled on this way in front of a reporter? I hope this is when Public LIves was finally crediting reporters and paying. What was it, a big $25 for four hours work?
Phylis Meras, a wonderful and fearless travel writer (NYtimes, many others) told me about one of her earliest assignments when she was in early 20's -- interviewing some famous writers (Nabokov, Naipaul, a few others, I forget which). She made appointments, showed up on time, extremely star-struck and nervous — and every single one of them stood her up! Each of them did it for a different & contrived reason. So, desperate, she wrote her story about the various ways each of them had broken their agreement to be interviewed by her. It turned out to be extremely funny, and very probably much more interesting that any run of the mill interviews would have been. (She told me that story during my furniture moving days, when she hitched an illegal ride from Martha's Vineyard to Riverside Drive. I'm going to tell that story in my own substack one of these days. Hrmmm. . . )
reporters make the best story tellers what writer didn't try it and learn from it: Hemingway how to use short descriptive sentences active verbs and the whatever amount of "w's"....too bad he lacked your enlivening deadpan humor where his seems mordant by comparison.... as for seduction i believe you would have resisted his turning you into a child-rearing domestic goddess.... haha just a guess tho
“When it came to seduction – the essential craft of the reporter—he was better than anyone I’ve ever met.” I never looked at it that way - and I *married* an interview subject. But I guess it’s the right word if you’re trying to get people to tell you things.
Unlike you, I never met Capote, but I did hear him talking to someone in front of the Ambassador East in Chicago. I am not kidding, he has a voice only a dog could hear.
And didn’t Janet Malcolm make a magilla about not trusting reporters? Or was it Dr. Jeffrey McDonald?
Janet Malcolm. She said something along the lines of, Every reporter, whether they admit it or not, knows in their heart they're a con artist. And though she put it in the harshest possible way -- I like to think we're collectors of colorful and moving scraps -- she was right. And there are some stories I have never told.
Ha! I always thought people got into trouble all by themselves. Dr. David Reuben (the sex expert) had his lawyer contact the Chicago Tribune to say if I ever wrote about him again he would them AND me. And all I did was let him talk ...
You had me at “left the NY Post when Murdoch took over.” Brilliant move. Even more brilliant reporting. Thank you.
Christina,
In the year after Murdoch bought the paper, probably sixty percent of the staff left. It took a sharp turn right. And was not as long feature friendly.
This is going to be a long comment, sorry.
For one thing, Joyce, I didn't see the ending coming. Brilliant. You caught me.
But also, I agree with Capote. A reporter doesn't have to take notes. The Times backed me up on that when I wrote for "Public Lives." I was attending some do at the Waldorf Astoria ballroom. For Tom Hanks. It was 1999. I had gone to the ladies' room during a lull, and found myself in line behind Spielberg's step daughter. And what follower was just too delicious not to record. I worried I shouldn't have done it, but I was told, "You heard her say it, you identified yourself, you wrote it down immediately after. You are fine."
Because I introduced myself clearly by name and said I was from The New York Times. She said, "Oh, hello" and then proceeded to prattle on. Ok, I thought, You've been warned.
Here is what she said next.
When she left, I ran outside, grabbed a piece of paper and pen and started writing. I remembered everything she said. Filled in the other info, Filed that night:
TITLE: Small Talk In a Long Line
JESSICA CAPSHAW has learned not to cut into lines. ''I did one time, and this woman kicked me,'' she said to a friend in a line for the ladies' room outside the grand ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria on Thursday, after the Museum of the Moving Image's tribute to TOM HANKS..
So Miss Capshaw -- the 22-year-old stepdaughter of STEVEN SPIELBERG (the daughter of his wife, KATE CAPSHAW, by a previous marriage), asked another woman, ''Do you mind if I stand in front of you while I talk to my friend?''
Permission granted. And so a three-way conversation began.
First she talked about her father's speech introducing Mr. Hanks and how she had thought about going to the ladies' room then.
''He went on for so long, but I just couldn't leave,'' she said. Nor could she leave when Mr. Spielberg showed clips from home movies (his) with Mr. Hanks clowning around.
''I mean, I've known Tom since I was 12,'' she said. ''I'm 22 now. That's'' -- long pause -- ''half my life. The home movies -- one scene was at my party.''
The line moved forward. She tripped on the hem of her black evening gown.
''And then Tom came on, and of course I couldn't leave then,'' she said. ''Have you ever had a dress so long you kept tripping on it? I mean, I've got really high heels on under this, so you don't know how short I really am.''
She did not appear short at all. About 5 foot 6.
''Actually I borrowed this dress from my mom,'' she said. ''And the pink shawl? It's not Pashmina, which is like what, $4,000? It's a $50 Tibetan shawl I got from a friend at Brown.''
The line moved again. ''So this woman from Woman's Wear Daily asked me what I was wearing. And I didn't want to disappoint her and say I borrowed the dress and I did my own hair in 15 minutes -- I mean, I'm from Missouri. Literally: I was born in Missouri. I know how to handle curlers. So I told the woman I didn't want to say the name of the designer, and the shawl being Pashmina? Why not?''
By now she was almost at the ladies' room. ''So I graduated from Brown last May and then I went to L.A.'' Here she left out the part about appearing in the 1997 film ''The Locusts'' with VINCE VAUGHN and PAUL RUDD.
''I had some work,'' she said, ''and then I got cast in this pilot, by the guys who wrote 'Something About Mary.' ''
Was this ''Rosewell High,'' the sitcom that Mr. Hanks's son COLIN was in?
''No,'' she said, ''they asked me to be in that one, but I went with this one, 'Odd Man Out,' for ABC.''
In the ladies' room, she added, ''We'll know if it gets picked up May 18.''
Washing hands, she introduced the friend from the line (remember?). ''This is the daughter of my headmaster in my school in L.A.,'' she said. ''You meet all kinds of people here. Wish me luck!''
If only I had Capote's career with my "Night Out" columns
Linda,
I love this item. It's the fly on the ladies' room wall. I can remember a few lines if they are really vivid and I write them down -- there are a few that are so wild they are seared into your brain -- but that is an impressive amount to remember. And she rattled on this way in front of a reporter? I hope this is when Public LIves was finally crediting reporters and paying. What was it, a big $25 for four hours work?
Phylis Meras, a wonderful and fearless travel writer (NYtimes, many others) told me about one of her earliest assignments when she was in early 20's -- interviewing some famous writers (Nabokov, Naipaul, a few others, I forget which). She made appointments, showed up on time, extremely star-struck and nervous — and every single one of them stood her up! Each of them did it for a different & contrived reason. So, desperate, she wrote her story about the various ways each of them had broken their agreement to be interviewed by her. It turned out to be extremely funny, and very probably much more interesting that any run of the mill interviews would have been. (She told me that story during my furniture moving days, when she hitched an illegal ride from Martha's Vineyard to Riverside Drive. I'm going to tell that story in my own substack one of these days. Hrmmm. . . )
For good luck I'm not going to mention the major typo, I guess kind of like rubbing capote's bald head
reporters make the best story tellers what writer didn't try it and learn from it: Hemingway how to use short descriptive sentences active verbs and the whatever amount of "w's"....too bad he lacked your enlivening deadpan humor where his seems mordant by comparison.... as for seduction i believe you would have resisted his turning you into a child-rearing domestic goddess.... haha just a guess tho
The life you've led, the tales you can tell!
“When it came to seduction – the essential craft of the reporter—he was better than anyone I’ve ever met.” I never looked at it that way - and I *married* an interview subject. But I guess it’s the right word if you’re trying to get people to tell you things.
Unlike you, I never met Capote, but I did hear him talking to someone in front of the Ambassador East in Chicago. I am not kidding, he has a voice only a dog could hear.
And didn’t Janet Malcolm make a magilla about not trusting reporters? Or was it Dr. Jeffrey McDonald?
Janet Malcolm. She said something along the lines of, Every reporter, whether they admit it or not, knows in their heart they're a con artist. And though she put it in the harshest possible way -- I like to think we're collectors of colorful and moving scraps -- she was right. And there are some stories I have never told.
"Harsh" she was. I never felt I was inveigling anyone to do themselves in with their mouths, did you?
All the time.
Ha! I always thought people got into trouble all by themselves. Dr. David Reuben (the sex expert) had his lawyer contact the Chicago Tribune to say if I ever wrote about him again he would them AND me. And all I did was let him talk ...
A terrific story! Not that I have anything interesting to say about myself, but now I won't tell you anything.
Hilarious and so true. I used to go into men's room stalls and write notes after interviewing people who didn't know they were being interviewed.