Leading up to the May 1, 2007 National Magazine Awards, mediabistro.com is publishing a special package of our popular interview series, “So What Do You Do?,” with daily interviews of selected nominees, ranging from well-known to obscure. Today, we chat with Esquire editor David Granger.

See our other interviews with Ellie 2007 nominees:
Joyce Rutter Kaye, Editor, Print; Moisés Naím, Editor, Foreign Policy; Jay Stowe, Editor, Cincinnati; Ted Genoways, Editor, Virginia Quarterly Review; Mark Strauss, Editor, Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists

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Name: David Granger
Position: Editor, Esquire
Resume: “In reverse order: Esquire, GQ, Adweek/Mediaweek, National Sports Daily, SportsInc., Sport, Family Weekly, Muppet Magazine, various stints of unemployment and consulting at various points.”
Birthdate: October 31, 1956
Hometown: Several places in the United States
Education: Masters in English, University of Virginia; Bachelor of Arts, University of Tennessee
Marital status: Married
First Section of the Sunday Times: Real Estate, “which I read on Saturday.”
Favorite television show: Friday Night Lights
Guilty pleasure: [No comment.]
Last book read: “MVP, by James Boice. No wait, Everyman, by Philip Roth.”

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Getting an Ellie nomination is fairly common for you at this point. Has the excitement of being nominated dulled at all?
Nah. When people do stellar work, it remains rewarding to see that work recognized. Who doesn’t like to be told they’re doing good work?

What do you think of your Ellies chances?
No way to predict. Last year, I assumed we’d be sitting in our chairs all night, politely applauding all our friends. We got two.

You are up against GQ for general excellence. How would you characterize your rivalry with GQ? Do you pay attention to what they do, or ignore them?
For a long time now, I’ve believed that our competition for consumers is not limited to other magazines. We try to create a magazine that can compete with the Web and everything on cable and DVD, as well as other magazines. I don’t think people are deciding between one magazine and another — they’ve got a whole menu of entertainment options and it’s all those outlets that I have to keep abreast of. Plus, I always root for Alan Richman to win a National Magazine Award.

Who’d you rather, ScarJo or Sienna Miller? Also, how has the “Women We Love” franchise grown for the magazine?
That’s an impossible choice and one that’s entirely irrelevant to the possibilities inherent in my life. I can imagine, though, that each would offer distinct delights and complications. As for “Women We Love,” we just have fun with it. A couple years ago, we started doing this long, slow, six-month reveal of who we would be naming the sexiest woman alive in our November issue. It’s been funny and well-received. Against all expectations, men continue to be interested in women, and we try to offer some insight in various places in the magazine in amusing ways.

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“I can imagine, though, that [ScarJo and Sienna] would offer distinct delights and complications.”

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What’s the biggest challenge of your job as an editor?
Well, the editorial part is the most rewarding part of the challenge — working with the staff to find ways to push the print medium forward. The more complicated part, though intensely rewarding in its own way, is working with my publisher to move the business of Esquire forward by launching extensions of the Esquire idea and maximizing all the parts of the business — circ, ad sales, manufacturing — that contribute to our success. And, of course, both sides of that equation affect each other in intimate ways.

Take us through a typical day in the life of Esquire‘s editor.
If I’m in New York, wake up at 5:00 a.m. or so, get to the office at 7, read the Times and browse a couple sites. The TV on my computer is on to provide background noise and to alert me if the world blows up. Then, who knows? Some days, I spend the day reacting to the needs of the staff and the corporation. Other days, I’m more proactive and plot out the next issues or the next year, depending on how smart I’m feeling. The key to a good day is getting to talk with the people on my staff. All our good ideas come out of conversation. We’re not big on meetings, unless they have a specific, limited purpose. If it’s a really good day, I get to work on a story on work with [design director David] Curcurito on our cover and have a meal with someone interesting I don’t know well.

How do you feel about the state of the industry?
I feel good. We’re saddled with a few challenges, primarily in the area of how we distribute magazines and how we reach a new potential audience. And, we may be feeling the first effects of advertisers spending more online. But, I think that will pass as everyone learns how to use the Web most effectively. Right now, a lot of advertisers are feeling pressure not to miss out on the Web and are buying ads in a scattershot way. But that will even out.

Creatively, the magazine industry has more potential than it’s ever had and I think one huge advantage we will continue to have in the era of digital and mobile devices is simply our tangibility. Magazines can be beautiful objects as well as providers of information and perspective — and beauty is not a word that often gets associated with consuming content on your phone.

A lot of magazines are currently trying to figure out the Web. Has Esquire figured it out?
Yes.

What’s the next step for Esquire? What’s the next step for you personally?
We have a massive 2008 well along in the planning stages. And it’s amazing how quickly the brand is expanding internationally — this year Esquires from two countries, U.S. and Russia, are each finalists for the magazine of the year at SPD. We also will continue to refine and expand what we’re doing online. And I’m looking forward to the growth of the publication launched last year — Esquire‘s Big Black Book. We’re also in the midst of rolling out some cool little things like five lines of greeting cards based on some of our regular features. Personally? I’m hoping to keep my job a little while longer.

Finally, what will you be wearing to the Ellies?
Dunno. Either something made by Frank Shattuck, a friend of mine who is a master tailor, or a tux I inherited a long time ago. Or, something I just bought from Dunhill.

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[Dylan Stableford is mediabistro.com’s managing editor, media news. He can be reached at dylan AT mediabistro DOT com.]

The mind of David Koepp (pronounced “kepp”) is a place we should all visit. Stay for a while. And order food. Writer of the screenplays for The Lost World: Jurassic Park, Mission Impossible, Spiderman, and Panic Room, director of Secret Window and Stir of Echoes, he talks about deli suspense, sleep as an editor, how to stare down a huge blockbuster sequel, and why he lives in New York instead of southern California.

Name: David Koepp
Position: Screenwriter, also film director when I’m lucky
Education: B.F.A. in film, UCLA
Hometown: Pewaukee, WI
First script: Against the Law, a.k.a., Common Law, a.k.a., couldn’t sell it to save my life.
Last 3 scripts/movies: War of the Worlds, Ghost Town, “Indiana Jones and the pending title.”
Birthdate: June 9, 1963
Marital Status: married
Family: Wife, Melissa Thomas; sons, Benjamin, Nicholas, and Henry.

What’s the first thing you do when you get to the office?
I drink my double tall skim latte, check my email, and commence the lengthy process of wasting time on the Internet until I am so filled with self-loathing for not writing that actually writing becomes the only way to salvage any shred of my self-image. That usually takes two or three hours.

So you have an office?
Yes. I’ve worked at home on and off over the years, but it gets kinda weird — like, you look up and realize you haven’t been out of the house for 72 hours, and when you do go out in the street and see people, you start sort of cringing. So even though the office is only a dozen blocks from home, I usually figure, “Well, I came all this way, I might as well write something.”

O.K., there’s an office. Do you have ‘people’?
I have a great assistant. He’s also a writer, so we try to stay out of each other’s way.

What’s the first work-related thing you do before you get to the office?
Probably wake up in the middle of the night with an idea that turns out to be no good in the morning. I think the nature of writing is such that you’re always working, or at least always able to be working — “Hey, look at this piece of origami I found on the street! Maybe I can make a scene out of it!”

So much of writing is a matter of recycling and reinterpreting the tiny little minutiae of your own life, but that’s all you’ve got. Of course, the danger with that is that your life and interests can become so narrow and repetitive, as life tends to push us in the direction of anyway, that your writing gets repetitive. I’m writing something now for a director I’ve worked with in the past, and the other day he said, “Didn’t you use a version of this same line in the last movie?” And I said “Hey, I’ve only got so many tricks, man.” But I’m working on that.

You live in New York City, so there are no bungalows and lunches at The Palm with agents… or are there?
No bungalows or studio lots, but you can always have lunch at The Palm if you want. Agents and studio executives and directors and producers — they all come to New York. I really love working in Hollywood, but living in New York, it’s a much calmer lifestyle for me. Being in Los Angeles arouses the crazy-competitive-fearful side of my nature. I couldn’t walk into [popular West Coast coffee chain] the Coffee Bean [and Tea Leaf] without noticing how many people had laptops with screenplays on the screen. It felt like they were all breathing down my neck trying to take my job. Which they are, but it’s easier to put that out of your mind when you live in New York.

What are you working on now? And if you can’t tell us, make something up.
I wrote the script for the new Indiana Jones movie, which starts shooting in June. I’m doing rewrites now. I’ve been trying like hell for about two years to get a certain movie going for myself to direct, but that is an endeavor roughly equivalent to pushing a large beached whale back into the sea.

First thing you have to do in any writing job is put all the voices out of your head and write a movie that you, yourself, would enjoy seeing. Any other approach and you’re chasing the parade instead of leading it.

How do you approach a project like Indiana Jones, that has such history? Is it daunting to write a sequel to such a blockbuster? Did you approach this script in any different ways because of its legacy?
I’d be a fool if I didn’t consider the history and impact of the Indiana Jones movies before starting this one. I mean, Raiders was the movie that made me first consider screenwriting as a valid career choice. Until then, it had never occurred to me that somebody actually WROTE these things and that, in this case anyway, it seemed like they had a pretty good time at the office while they were doing it. Of course, I’m somewhat daunted by the past when trying to push “Indy” into the present, but the first thing you have to do in any writing job is put all the voices — studio, critics audience, etc. — out of your head and write a movie that you, yourself, would enjoy seeing. Any other approach and you’re chasing the parade instead of leading it.

I also think there’s a huge risk of writing a “fan” movie in this case, instead of writing an actual movie. I tried to approach this as a standalone movie; you don’t need to have seen the others to appreciate or enjoy it.

Other than that, the truth is, I only know one way to write, so I wrote it that way.

What is your level of involvement with a movie once the script is done? Any torturous rewrites requested by lame-brained ferrets?
The best projects for me are the ones where I can be involved from inception all the way through looping at the end. Those are satisfying experiences. During shooting, though, I tend to stay away as much as I can. I used to go to the set all the time when I was younger, but the actors and director have a tendency to see me as a big walking keyboard and want to bang on me (so to speak).

There’s a great temptation to change things on the day, new ideas always sound better because they’re fresh, and just different from the stuff you’ve been working over and over for a couple years. But you have to resist that temptation; just because you’re tired of the other stuff doesn’t mean it isn’t good. It’s held up for two years for a reason. My hope is that if I stay away, they’ll shoot what’s on the page.

As you are a very successful screenwriter and director, are there contracts that prohibit ferrets from changing your work?
Absolutely none. Nobody, but nobody, has those kind of guarantees as a screenwriter, and the only way to get them as a director is to have a couple hits so that you can negotiate final cut into your contract. Moviemaking is a very rough-and-tumble business, creatively speaking, and if you’ve got no taste for the fray, you’d better stay away.

How are you a better director as a screenwriter or vice versa?
They’re separate disciplines, but I think that doing one job helps you understand the other one better, or at least more sympathetically. I think that goes for all the disciplines on a movie — directors should take a few acting classes to see what it feels like, actors should try to write a script or two to get a feel for the big picture, and writers should try directing so they can experience what a director means when he says, “Say it with pictures.”

How difficult is it to see the final movie with your words completely changed? On average, how much are your words changed?
I’ve been lucky to have had mostly great experiences with directors, and I think it’s because I’ve gotten to work with talented and secure people. It’s the ones who, deep down, know that they kinda suck, who are a drag to work with, because they’re threatened by everyone and everything around them: including the sunrise — so they develop a tendency to trample those around them to remind themselves they’re in charge. And, they can do that because of their job title. The result is usually not so good. Sometimes it’s best to just take a hike early on when you smell that process coming.

Tell me about your writing process: Is it linear, do you work on several scripts at once?
Of course, the best thing is to work on one thing at a time, but that doesn’t seem to be the nature of freelance work: it’s usually feast or famine. And, no movie ever went into production because the writer’s schedule opened up, so when the great and happy moment of having a movie made comes along, it’s usually at the worst possible time for me, in terms of work and my personal life. But, it’s a dilemma I will happily take.

Do you keep notes and notebooks with you at all times?
Whenever I start with a new script idea, I buy one of those marbled composition books like we used to have in school, and if the thing ends up getting made, I fill a couple of them by the end. Of course, I have a bunch of notebooks that have splashy titles on the cover, two pages of notes inside, and the rest stayed blank forever.

My wife recently bought me a bunch of notecards in a little box for my nightstand, because I usually think of stuff that seems important as I’m falling asleep, and that’s been great. Ideas are your currency, and you never know when they’re going to show up, so you’d better take care of them.

Describe your writing ‘area’ — any rules for yourself? Schedule you try to adhere to? Special pens, paper, pets? Strange routines we would delight in hearing?
My writing area is an L-shaped desk facing a wall. The left side of the L is the computer and other writing-related stuff, the right side of the L is anything else. I used to have a view out a window, but that was a huge mistake: I barely wrote anything for six months. So, I closed the blinds and turned to face the wall, and got a lot more done.

As for a schedule and a routine, I would absolutely love to have one, but I think I lack the discipline. I get there when I can, and I stay as long as I can take it. The only thing I do with consistency is order lunch. I order one of only two menu items every single day from the coffee shop across the street, and I am so consistent I no longer need to identify myself when I call. Sample conversation:

ME
Hi, can I have my tuna sandwich now?

DELI GUY
Okay, buddy.

Click. The only variation is:

ME
Hi, scrambled egg whites and cheese on a roll please?

DELI GUY
Okay, buddy.

I like that last order in particular, because of the natural tension between the egg whites and the cheese.

Describe your awareness of what’s going on in the world when you’re writing: Did you know that Anna Nicole Smith died?

Jesus, I’m not a hermit.

In fact, when I’m writing I’m always exceptionally well-informed about bullshit media stories, because I spend so much time working up my self-disgust on the Internet.

What is the most interesting media story you’re aware of right now?
I’d have to go with that war we got goin’ on.

What’s the first thing you bought with your first big check, from selling a script?
I bought time on a mixing stage so we could finish Apartment Zero, an independent movie I cowrote and produced that had run out of money in post[-production]. I sold a screenplay called Bad Influence around that time, and plowed the money back into Apartment Zero. John Kamps, a very funny and wonderful writer whom I partner with sometimes, had also worked on Apartment Zero, and we took a couple of disreputable rewrite jobs (which we were lucky to get) around that time to pay for the rest of post. I never saw the money again, but I still think it was well-spent.

Your work is broad — thrillers, comedy, drama… Is Hollywood more comfortable niche-ing writers and directors? (Yes, I made that word up.)
Oh, Hollywood nichifies like crazy, and you can’t really blame them. I mean, I wouldn’t hire a plumber to build my kitchen cabinets. It’s your responsibility to continually try to force your way out of your niche, and they’re not going to let you do that on their dime. I try to write on spec at least every year or two, and even in the cases where I haven’t been able to sell them, they’ve been good experiences. Frustrating, sure, but you learn a lot about different kinds of writing, and there’s nothing that feels quite as good and clean as the feeling of writing a first draft of something that nobody knows or cares about.

What’s your favorite movie? Why?
Probably Rosemary’s Baby. It’s just the perfect blend of character study and genre movie, and that is so incredibly hard to pull off — it’s right up there with hitting a curveball or writing a good pop song. The writing, the performances, the direction, there’s just not a wrong note anywhere in it, and, it’s massively entertaining.

What is your favorite movie as a screenwriter?
There are so many. His Girl Friday, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Sunset Boulevard, Tootsie, The Apartment, Jaws, Dr. Strangelove, Double Indemnity, The Godfather — you know, it just goes on and on.

As a director…
John Ford’s cavalry trilogy (Fort Apache, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, and Rio Grande) and, you know, see above list. I think with really great filmmaking, you can’t spot the line between writing and directing very easily. A recent movie that was just astonishingly well-directed is Children of Men. I was overcome by how good it was.

What’s the last book you read, or what are you reading now?
I just swore off any more Iraq books, because I read them all, and halfway through the last one, I felt I got the point — we kinda screwed the pooch over there.

I’m reading another Patricia Highsmith novel now, this one’s called The Blunderer, which is about a would-be criminal who makes every mistake in the world. [It’ll] never be a movie — audiences would throw things at the screen — but [it’s] fascinating to watch her characters slowly rip themselves apart through sheer self-destructiveness.

What were the challenges to break into the business when you started out?
Same as it is now: “Who the fuck are you?” But, what is usually perceived as the hard part — getting your script read — is actually much easier than the process of actually writing a great story. If you can do that, it’ll be easy to find somebody to sell it for you.

What are the challenges now that you are successful and established?
Staying motivated and self-critical and hardworking, because there is just absolutely no substitute for hard work. And, as I slide inexorably into middle age, the challenge becomes to stay relevant and to make myself irreplaceable. If anybody figures out how to do that, please let me know, because I have yet to see a single human being pull it off.

[EDITOR’S NOTE: This interview contains excerpts, and has been edited for clarity.]

Arick Wierson can tell you that working in TV ruins your viewing habits. As general manager of NYC TV, he thinks there are two qualities you need to make it in television, and tells you three of them. What’s in your TV future? Jimmy Choos, for one. And, hopefully, fewer connections in his TV room.

Name: Arick Wierson
Position: General Manager
Media: TV, Radio, Broadband & Mobile
Company: NYC TV / NYC Media Group
Education: BS in Foreign Service from Georgetown University, MS in Economics from UNICAMP (São Paulo State University at Campinas, Brazil)
Hometown: Excelsior, MN (suburb of Minneapolis)
First job: Analyst, Investment Banking (JP Morgan)
Last 3 jobs: Vice President, ABN AMRO Bank, CEO, Comjunta (Internet start-up in Brazil), 2001 Bloomberg for Mayor Campaign
Birthdate: November 23, 1971
Marital status: Married (with a 2-year-old daughter)

What’s the first thing you do when you get to the office?
I like to walk around. See who is in, what they’re working on, you know — chit-chat. Our main offices are on four different floors, so people can come and go and not cross paths unless you make an effort to get out and about.

What’s the first work-related thing you do before you get to the office?

I check my Blackberry (I keep it on my bed stand). I usually have 30-40 new emails that have come in overnight.

When Mayor Bloomberg tapped you to helm NYC TV you didn’t have much if any TV experience. What have you learned about the TV business that surprised you?
It’s surprising, in some respects, how risk-averse some parts of the TV industry are. Although it’s changing (and quickly, I might add), many TV execs really adhere to a “herd mentality” when it comes to programming, deal-making — you name it. I’m always of the mind that it’s better to try new things knowing that you might fail than to stay with what’s tried and safe. Makes life more interesting, too!

What did you learn about running a TV station that surprises you?
I’m not sure there were any surprises. I think the glitz and glamour of industry sometimes fogs people’s perception that TV is a business. Sure, there are some peculiarities in a business that lives off of a creative product, but if you place the right bets, plan and execute, you’ll find success.

What’s the most challenging part of your day? Your job?
There is one main reason NYC TV has been such a success, and that’s because of the team we have assembled. Managing expectations, resolving conflicts, making sure everyone has an opportunity for input — that’s the challenging part of a people-intensive business.

How much TV do you watch?

The funny thing is that I never used to watch much TV at all. Now, between work and home, TV and the Web, I probably consume 2-3 hours a day of content.

What do you watch for ‘research’ for your job?
That’s a great question. I’ve watched one episode of countless programs because I feel the need to know what’s out there; I have to see what’s working, and what’s not. I also try to watch a lot of stuff on the Web. I think that many of the next big ideas in TV will arise on broadband.

How has your TV watching changed since taking your position at NYC TV?
I pay attention to things that drive my wife crazy when we’re watching something together: I’ll rewind a special effect on CSI to see exactly how a shot was composed, or I’ll keep a record of when commercial breaks occur in shows, things the casual viewer probably doesn’t even think or care about. And, of course, I always watch the credits in slo-mo now.

You recently partnered with NBC — how has that changed the station for you?
I think that the NBC deal was important in the sense that beforehand, everyone saw the shows, all the Emmys we were racking up, and our ratings, yet I don’t think the local media industry was sure what to make of us. The NBC deal signaled that we had arrived. It has opened a lot of doors for us.

What is in the future for NYC TV? Where do you see it in 5 years, with all the changes facing television, the web, networks?
Right now, NYC TV is basically a linearly programmed channel. NYC TV will continue to grow and expand its lifestyle programming revolving around New York City, but expect us to be offering up that content on an increasingly diverse portfolio of platforms, where the viewer/consumer is in charge. In fact, we believe that going forward, our viewers will also be our producers. We are developing a project focused on user-generated content — a show called Press Play — an area that will really take off in a city like New York.

What’s your favorite TV show? Why?
Friday Night Lights on NBC. It has great storytelling, believable actors, and it’s beautifully composed.

What do you read that informs you about your industry — not just industry periodicals, but anything.
I read B&C, TV Week, Multichannel, etc. like everyone else. TV Newsday does a good job of aggregating what’s out there in print and online. Every TV exec should keep an eye on TVTracker. Some blogs that I like to look at are Paidcontent.org and TVNewser. I also pay a lot of attention to Internet Protocol Television-related news [where a digital television is delivered via the Internet], and there the main source is CedMagazine.com.

What’s the last book you read (really, finished)?
Acquired Tastes by Peter Mayle. It was perfect beach-reading material for a recent family vacation in Mexico.

Where do you think TV is going? Not just government TV, but the medium in general? Describe how we’ll view the tube in 10 or 20 years.
Wow. 20 years? It’s funny a question because I always tell my students (I teach an MBA program on the economics of TV and Radio at MCNY) to never try to predict what is going to happen in TV more than five years going forward.

Anyway, here are some things that I feel comfortable betting on in the next few years (but I won’t tell you what happens when!):

1) Sooner rather than later — easy to use technology bringing your Internet downloads to the HDTV large-screen. Apple, TiVO and others are bridging this gap and it won’t be long before this technology goes mainstream.
2) Not tomorrow, but not too far off — seamless user interface for transitioning between broadband, broadcast and cable linear and on-demand channels. It won’t be too long before LX.TV and YouTube are much like other on-demand channels you see on cable.
3) Not for quite a while, but when it happens, strap yourself in — transactional TV advertising: you like the pair of Jimmy Choo sandals that Carrie is wearing on Sex in the City, just press pause, click on the shoe in the video, and buy.

So many young people want to get into television — believing it’s all green rooms with melon, George Clooney and champagne. Describe the TV business to those who may be thinking about jumping in.
I am a bit of a contrarian when it comes to getting involved in the media biz too early in your career. Unless you are a young starlet with the clock ticking, I think the best skill set you can bring to the media business is life experience itself. Go work in consulting, finance, government, advertising — even PR. See the world. Live abroad. Learn a second language. These are the intangibles that the media executive of the future will bring to the business.

What qualities do you believe successful talent in TV must possess?

1) Energy and drive.

2) Smile and be friendly.
3) Reread 2. I don’t know how many times the slightly less talented, or slightly less good-looking talent has snatched away a job from a slightly better qualified person because of personality issues. Everyone works long hours and no one wants to hang out with someone with attitude.

What qualities must executives possess?
I think that the core characteristic of a solid TV exec is strong right-brain / left-brain balance. Execs need to have the creative instincts to know what will work, how to package and present something, and the analytical and organizational skills to shepherd along the creative process and create value. That may seem obvious, but I’ve seen several textbook examples of people who fail as they move into executive roles because while they excel in one area, they have few skills in the other. Balance is the key.

What do you think is the most interesting story on TV, about TV right now?
Well it appears that Studio 60 is headed for greener pastures, so I’m not sure what that says about the TV industry turning the lens back on itself. That being said, I think 30 Rock has some shelf-life.

What do you do at work when you don’t want to do anything?
I guess when I feel myself fading there’s nothing like a jolt of Red Bull.

What do you read first everyday? What section of the paper do you read first?
The Post, Times and Journal arrive around 5:30 AM every morning. I read them differently depending on the day of the week. For example, the Monday Times business section is generally very media-heavy. And since NYC TV is, after all, a local network, I always get to the Metro Section.

Okay, what does the TV room look like at home? How many premium channels? Who gets the remote?
In the main living room we have a 42″ Samsung HDTV connected to surround-sound speakers, DVD player, stereo with a CD player with an iPod connector. I also have a Canupus analog/digital converter hooked up to a Powerbook so I can capture parts of shows that I like and email Quicktimes to people on staff. As far as channels, I have pretty much everything that Time-Warner Cable offers.

Ray Richmond watches television for a living. While this might be a dream job for some, Richmond insists that it’s brutally hard work. His weekly column, “The Pulse,” appears in The Hollywood Reporter, is syndicated by Reuters, and is a must-read in Hollywood, while his blog, Past Deadline is a daily stop for readers addicted to his cynical, yet sentimental, outlook on television, pop culture and the media.

When approached we approached him for this interview, Richmond shunned the usual give-and-take of the process, and wrote it all himself. He then sent it to himself for editing, and sent it back for a rewrite. Finally, we were able to wrestle it away from him:

Name: Ray Richmond
Position: TV critic/entertainment columnist
Publication: The Hollywood Reporter
Company: The Nielsen Company (formerly VNU)
Education: B.A. Degree, Califiornia State University @ Northridge, 1980; A.A. Degree, Los Angeles Valley College, 1977; Diploma, Hollywood High School, 1975
Hometown: Born in Whittier, CA (hometown of Richard M. Nixon, thanks very much), and raised literally in and around Hollywood, and its rundown suburban environs.

First job: I had a couple at the same time, actually. I earned $1.65 per hour flipping burgers and dropping fries at Carl’s Jr. in Hollywood for a few months. (I was 15, but managed to alter my birth certificate to appear 16). I also worked as a vendor at Dodger Stadium in the early-to-mid 1970s, selling Cokes and ice cream and (occasionally) peanuts in the stands. (Peanuts were the prime product; you needed mucho seniority to work your way up to these, and I never quite got there.) To this day, I have a measure of regret. The job kept me in superb shape, toting 24 bottles of Coke on my back up and down stairs on hot Sundays. Then, there was the day a gang member grabbed one of my bottles, and used it to attack a fellow gangbanger in the stands. That wasn’t a good day.

Last three jobs: (This presumes what I’m currently doing is considered a “job”): TV reporter/critic/columnist, The Hollywood Reporter, 2000-present; TV reporter/critic, Daily Variety, 1997-99; TV critic/columnist, The Los Angeles Daily News, 1992-96

Birthdate: October 19, 1957. I turned 30 the day the stock market crashed (Depression Jr.). It was a helluva way to enter official yuppiehood.

Marital status: Twice-divorced. (I wave a white flag, ladies; you win.)

Favorite TV show: The Office (NBC edition). Steve Carell. Rainn Wilson. It’s not TV, it’s art.

Last book read: To quote the immortal Chauncey Gardener, “I don’t read books. I watch TV.” If pressed, however, I will admit to having read The Greatest Story Ever Sold: The Decline and Fall of Truth From 9/11 to Katrina by Frank Rich. And a terrific read it was.

Most interesting media story right now: The shakeout that finds print journalism fighting to hold onto its niche — any niche at all will do — and the cyber world essentially usurping it with its immediacy and reach.

Guilty pleasures: Extra-sharp aged cheddar — life is too short not to always have some on hand. Taking in my dog to get groomed monthly, which is God’s way of telling me I’m probably too well off. My National Enquirer subscription (I always shower immediately after digesting). Tom Goes to the Mayor on Cartoon Network.

There is an enormous amount of great stuff available on the 17.4 million channels that now exist. There’s a lot of crap, too, but anyone who believes TV can’t carry cinema’s jock just ain’t paying attention.

First section I read in the Sunday paper: Somebody still reads the Sunday paper? Wow, how last century is that? Actually, I still do receive The L.A. Times 7 days a week, though it causes people in my building to look at me dismissively and mutter under the breath, “Oh hey, if it isn’t Joe Intellectual. College grad scum.”

What I mean is, I usually pick up the Sports section first, under the philosophy that there are no guarantees in life and one should, therefore, eat dessert first. Once I’m fully informed about what’s going down in the NBA, and which spoiled millionaires are bitching about their various meritless paternity suits, I dive into the front section.

How I got into journalism: Oh, is this journalism? God, why didn’t someone tell me before I went and committed my whole life to it. I am SO embarrassed. Wow.

I’ve been doing this stuff since my first year of college, when I worked for a regional newspaper chain on the West side covering high school football and basketball on Friday nights for $5.00 per story. It was a big deal when we got a 50 percent raise to $7.50. I caught on part-time at the L.A. Daily News — then still called the Valley News and Green Sheet — while finishing my higher education at Cal State Northridge in 1978-79. I penned features and short press release rewrites about things such as the Miniature Rose Club of Greater Pacoima. I worked at the Daily News until 1985, crossing over from general features to TV critique fulltime in 1984. I moved from there to “The Merv Griffin Show” for 10 months in 1985-86, then back into TV critique and reportage for the late Los Angeles Herald-Examiner (may it rest in peace) in 1986-87. From there, I went to the Orange County Register as TV critic for five years (1987-92), and then back to the Daily News as TV critic (1992-96). Finally, I jumped to the trade world and Daily Variety in 1997, to cover and review TV, then to the Hollywood Reporter. My duties with the Reporter began small and have steadily increased year by year, adding the column in 2002, and the blog in 2006.

What my average media day is like: I’ll devour my L.A. Times (that takes roughly 125 seconds), and scour various online sites (including, uh, mediabistro.com) in the morning. I may watch a DVD or two that I have to review. Then, I’ll make some phone calls setting up interviews, and get “Past Deadline” up to date before indulging in a languid three-hour lunch with the Davids (Katzenberg, Geffen, Duchovny) at The Ivy. Actually, lunch is processed turkey on whole wheat at my desk. I’ll read some more and write some more, and yak on the phone some more. I’ll head off on my five-second commute from the desk to the living room (I work at home). If I ever run into gridlock during this commute, I’ll know it’s time to give the men in the white suits a call.

Isn’t television the ugly stepsister to film? How do I deal with the indignity? Oh that’s ridiculously easy. I don’t consider TV the ugly stepsister at all, or even the ugly step-person — must be politically correct here. Television is the most pervasive medium on the planet, and there is an enormous amount of great stuff available on the 17.4 million channels that now exist. There’s a lot of crap, too, but anyone who believes TV can’t carry cinema’s jock just ain’t paying attention. The big screen, I dare say, has more meritless crud percentage-wise. The creative gulf between the two is hardly as vast as it was once thought. Any medium that has The Simpsons and The Sopranos need not apologize for anything. That said, I’m not altogether sure that TV critics serve much of a real purpose. TV is such an impulse buy — a five-second time investment, potentially — that it can feel occasionally like spitting into the wind, a headwind at that.

Do I ever want to use my cool inside knowledge to pitch a show? I stopped thinking that way after I sidled up to a certain network entertainment president and said, “I’ve got a show for you.” He asked, “What’s it about?” And I said: “Nothing.” That was our last conversation, as I recall.

Any illusions about Hollywood shattered now that I’m here? Since I literally grew up here — comparing my handprints and footprints to those at the Chinese Theater from the time I was four — I’ve always felt rather clued in just by virtue of absorbing the environment throughout my life. On the other hand, it was hugely shocking and devastating to learn that, for instance, Hoss and Little Joe didn’t actually live on the Ponderosa (they were merely actors pretending to live there) and — more recently — that showbiz agents are occasionally disingenuous, and often merely out for themselves. It remains flat-out astonishing.

How do I choose what to cover in TV? I’m assigned reviews by the Reporter‘s chief critic Barry Garron. I often am obliged to review the second-tier stuff that’s on Hallmark Channel, BBC America, and Oxygen, whose slogan ought to be, “Way less breast cancer programming than Lifetime!” I also simply follow what’s in the news, as far as subject matter for my Tuesday column (“The Pulse”), and in updating the blog regularly. Of course, the Isaiah Washington “faggot” story remains the biggest single event of our lifetime. So I continue to be all over that. I think it’s so huge because Washington is the first man in the history of this great nation to openly disparage homosexual men. So it’s easy to understand the ongoing obsession. I’ve a feeling this is merely the tip of the iceberg. Someone will go off on a Jew, and be forced to enter anti-semite rehab (“Repeat after me: I support the state of Israel…”). But seriously, most of what I cover is either obvious or assigned to me, which is cool.

Do I still get a little kick out of being at the Hollywood Reporter and pretending to be a big shot? You know, I do. It’s not an ego trip so much as an ego side-journey. It still baffles me that I write it, they publish it, and people read it. I’ve lived in constant neurotic fear that at any moment, someone would knock on my door and tell me, “I’m from The Hollywood Reporter. They wanted me to deliver the message that this just isn’t working out anymore. The jig is up. We’re on to you. We all know you can’t write. Nice going, being able to fake it for the better part of three decades. But it’s over. Drop the keyboard, and step away from the monitor, please.” That it hasn’t happened yet is an ongoing joy. I still get a charge out of seeing my name and my writing in print. It looks so… grown-up.

Proudest moment of my career: This one. Right now. Oh, and the time I was sitting on a sofa with George Burns, while working as a talent coordinator and segment producer for “The Merv Griffin Show” in 1985, and he said, “You know kid, you got a great mug. You ever thought about being in showbiz?” True story. I’ve also smoked Cubans (not the people, the cigar) with Milton Berle at the Friar’s Club, and interviewed Lucille Ball at her Beverly Hills home in 1984. She got blasted on strawberry margaritas, and I with her. She talked about how much she loved Vivian Vance and cried. Just she and I sharing her couch and cocktails and old stories: It was an out-of-body experience.

Biggest influence on my work: The contemporary stylings of Isaac Mizrahi. That, and the feminine grace with which Katie Couric recites her script from a Teleprompter. Those aside, I get actual inspiration from fellow journalists like my friend Cathy Seipp, who freelances for many publications including National Review, and is so fearless in her commentary that I sometimes feel phony and dishonest by comparison for playing the game by the rules rather than challenging and probing as she does. She tosses the bodies around seemingly without fear of reprisal. If I’ve learned anything in all of my years as an ink-stained hack, it’s that there is no substitute for honesty and integrity. Minus those, as a member of the media you have nothing. If you harbor sacred cows and espouse views fueled by compromise/conflict, you’re in the wrong business.

Coolest story I ever worked on: See Lucille Ball interview above.

Pet story loved/worked on that got killed late in the process: In the early ’70s, I was assigned to cover a break-in at the Watergate Hotel that was traced back to the current Presidential Administration. But my editors were concerned that to overplay the story would be perceived as alarmist and scandalmongering, so it was bumped to page 16 and buried with the headline, “Watergate Hotel Burglarized, Seen By Everyone As Really No Big Deal At All.” And there went my Pulitzer.

If I weren’t a journalist/writer, what would I do? God, probably comb trash dumpsters for bottles and cans, or be forced to call people at random hoping to convince them to change their long-distance carrier (not quite as fulfilling as collecting the recyclables). I might try to teach. English. Badly. Good thing I wound up here. I clearly have no other marketable skill.

How I kick back: I don’t, actually. Explains a lot, doesn’t it?

Kate Coe is the co-editor of FishbowlLA

[EDITOR’S NOTE: This interview contains excerpts, and has been edited for clarity.]

Mary Berner left Condé Nast in January 2006 when the unit she led, Fairchild Publications, was fully absorbed into Condé, and the company was reorganized. She spoke little of her future plans at the time, beyond saying she wanted a position in which she could be an unfettered leader. Last summer, she started working behind the scenes to help private equity firm Ripplewood Holdings acquire the Reader’s Digest Association. She formally assumed the helm of Reader’s Digest this week.

Entering her 27th year in publishing, Berner has poised herself as a leader, strategically repositioning staff and resources to increase profits and expand the reach of her brands. The winner in 2004 Advertising Age’s “Publishing Executive of the Year” award, Berner is known for a no-nonsense approach that inspires both fear and admiration. In conversation, she is equally direct, and openly talks of her goals and ambitions.

She spoke with mediabistro.com on her first day on the job about how she ended up at Reader’s Digest, what makes a successful leader and what she hopes to accomplish in her new position.

Position: President and CEO, the Reader’s Digest Association, Inc. (privately owned by investor group Ripplewood Holdings)
Publication: 77 magazines worldwide, including 50 country-specific editions of Reader’s Digest, and eight other magazines of circulation of 1 million or more, including Every Day with Rachael Ray.
Education: B.A., College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, Mass.
Hometown: Winnetka, Ill.
First job: Sold advertising for Citizen Group Publications in Boston, Mass.
Last three jobs: President and CEO, Fairchild Publications; Vice president and publisher, Glamour; senior vice president and publisher, TV Guide
Birth date: June 24, 1959
Marital status: Married with four children
What’s your favorite TV Show? American Idol. “It’s like a family spectator sport for us.”
Last book read? A Spot of Bother by Mark Haddon
Any books you suggest others should read? A Hundred Years of Solitude, and anything from John Irving
Guilty pleasure? Reading for hours at a time (on a beach).
Most interesting media story right now? How the print companies are reinventing themselves for the digital world.
First section you read in the Sunday paper? Book review

What are your goals for the first year? Long term?
I’m going to talk in generalities. This is a strategy of building on a platform that’s here. The company has done an excellent job of diversifying both products and geography, so it will be a time of moving forward in the leveraging of that and building of that.

You mentioned that the digital medium is something that you will be researching at Reader’s Digest. How would you incorporate it into the current structure?

Essentially, we are a publishing company with a depth and breadth of content that is one of our biggest strengths. How to leverage that digitally is one of our first initiatives.

I came across a story from Mediaweek in December 2006, where they quoted an industry observer who said that one of the difficulties you might encounter that you haven’t in the past is the challenge “of managing down while building the other magazines up.” Do you consider this an accurate observation?
Whoever wrote that, the magazine part of the business is just part of the business. This is a company that is a book publishing, a magazine, a music, and video company. We operate in 70 countries. I would say that for me to be successful, I will need to work with everybody here. It’s as simple as that — as I always have. If you look at my track record, one thing that I am acutely aware of is that the whole company has to be running in the same direction.

Speaking of your track record, your leadership qualities have been widely recognized within the industry. What would you say are some of the qualities that make a good leader versus just a manager or a boss?
Being a leader is something that you can always get better at. For me, personally, I certainly don’t think I have it nailed. It’s the type of question of what I think works for me, rather than what works for leaders. You have to have clarity of vision; you have to be able to communicate that. You have to be able to work with the organization and the management team to figure out how to execute that. It’s pretty straightforward.

Have you ever been aware that you are a leader?
It’s certainly been my role in several of my last jobs. Do you mean if I have the attributes?

Yes.
I don’t really think like that. I really believe… that you’re as good as the people you have around you. People talk about that, and that’s kind of a lot of lip service or rhetoric, but I think that if I’ve done anything well, I try to act on that and show that. I tend to [deal] with issues about who’s doing the work, who’s the person in charge. A lot can get lost when you just sit in rooms and develop strategy, because that’s all it is — strategy on paper — unless you actually have the right people.

Speaking of those right people, you are known to bring your own crew along with you in your various posts. Is that something we’re going to see at Reader’s Digest?
If you look back, I’ve always brought some new people in, and always worked with the best of the talent that I inherited, as well. It’s always been a combination. So, when I left Fairchild, six years later, the management team was about half and half. There’s a lot of hoopla about people I bring in, but there’s not much hoopla about who stays and works with me.

You left Condé Nast last year. What have you done in the past year?

First, I spent some time trying to figure out exactly what I wanted to do, and then I’ve been involved in the due diligence process of this particular job since August [2006]. For six months, I’ve been working on Reader’s Digest.

I think good leaders have to have some good strategic ability. It’s the ability to assess what’s there, to have a clear sense of what the possibilities are, and then a very, very focused point of view on how to get there.

Were you recruited by your brother?
No, actually it was Harvey Golub, who is the executive chairman of Ripplewood [Holdings].

What drew you to Ripplewood?
What I did in the beginning was I was talking to a lot of private equity firms, because I knew for sure that I wanted an ownership stake in whatever I did next. I knew for sure that was a way to go. Probably for the first couple of months, I talked to 20 private equity firms. I picked them for the ones that had interests like mine. (The brother thing came up as coincidence; it’s been a wonderful coincidence, actually, and a wonderful experience for me. My brother had been introducing me to private equity firms because that’s the business that he is in.) My brother called me about Ripplewood — [which had] been trying to purchase Reader’s Digest for several years. They’ve been really working at it; They thought it was a wonderful acquisition, and they could see the possibilities. [My brother] said, ‘We’re doing this thing, would you ever want to talk to us?’ I talked to Harvey, and I could clearly see what the possibilities were, so I agreed to work on the due diligence team.

Why do you think you couldn’t get an ownership stake otherwise?
Well, you could, but this is because I wanted to be at the beginning. Whatever my initiatives were going to be, I wanted to be with my partners at the beginning. Obviously I couldn’t at Condé Nast, because it was a private company.

Can you talk about why you left Condé Nast?
Yeah, because there was no more Fairchild.

Because there was no more movement for you?
No, because Fairchild was absorbed, there was no more Fairchild. The things I liked doing — I like having a breadth of responsibilities as opposed to a depth. It just didn’t fit, what I wanted to do, the opportunities were not a match.

Is this the ideal situation for you at this point in your career? Or, did you always seek this type of opportunity?
I always knew I would end up with this; All my experiences were worthwhile and prepared me for now. The time is right.

Reputation-wise, do you think this next step is going to continue to expand your reputation as a quality leader?
Oh, I don’t know; I’m not in it to do that; I’m in it to get the job done.

Do you recognize that the media are all looking at what you’re going to be doing next?
I suppose. I don’t really think that way. Really, what I think about is — what’s the opportunity; Do I think I can add value to whatever’s there; How am I going to go about doing it, and who do I need around me to make sure it’s successful; What partners do I need. As for my reputation: I’d like to think it wouldn’t hurt my reputation, but I don’t even think that way.

Do you hope to raise Reader’s Digest to the level of playing field that you left?
The publication itself is less than 15 percent of the revenue of a $2.5 billion company, so I will certainly focus on the flagship, but that’s one part of the many, many different parts of what the strategy will be.

It seems juggling all these different divisions will probably be your next biggest challenge.
The way I’ve approached it is you focus on what’s there — and I did six months of work on that — you get a strong point of view of where we need to be, and then the question becomes how do you get there. It’s pretty straightforward. So, I don’t look at it in the context of juggling divisions, I look at it as what do we need to do to get from here to there. The people running the divisions are running the divisions.

It sounds like you’ve had a lot of time…
Well, I have. It’s been amazing. The best thing about this is you have six months to do everything you do in the first six months of your job, but you don’t have the responsibility.

I read in one of the industry blogs back in December 2006 that morale at Reader’s Digest was pretty low…
By definition, when there’s change it’s stressful for people; and this is kind of a funky period. As nice as it was for me to be able to prepare, it’s really difficult for people who don’t know what the future’s going to be. People wonder what’s going to happen with me, so that’s understandable.

And how are you dealing with that?
I can’t deal with it other than just do the job and give people clarity on where we are. Most people can get their arms around things when they understand what’s happening and how it affects them, and that’s my job in the next couple of months.

What are some of the tips that you can give people who want to be successful in undertaking some of the challenges that you have encountered in your career?
It can’t be culled down like that. Everybody has their own ways of leading, but I think the common thread is you have to have the clarity of focus, you have to be — I think good leaders have to have some good strategic ability. It’s the ability to assess what’s there, to have a clear sense of what the possibilities are, and then a very, very focused point of view on how to get there. If you have those three things, then you overlay that with the ability to work with people to get that done in a collaborative way. I think that’s usually what works.

Do you think that success has to do with someone who has those traits?
No, I don’t think so, because when you look at people who have been successful, there’s a range of personality types. If you read the book, Good to Great: [Why Some Companies Make the Leap… and Others Don’t],” which was a study of what makes high-performing companies, one thing they found, which was counter-intuitive, was that some of the best-performing companies had leaders who were introverts. But I think the common thread with those people is that — introverts or extroverts — what you have to get is that no one person can do everything.

Maya Avrasin is a freelance writer living in New York City.

[EDITOR’S NOTE: This interview contains excerpts, and has been edited for clarity.]

Stephen Shepard has done almost everything there is to do in the journalism world. At age twelve, he started delivering the Bronx Home News and, after stops at publications including Newsweek and the Saturday Review, he led BusinessWeek into the 21st century as its editor from 1984-2005.

No one would fault a man with such an impressive resumé for taking a step back. But after contemplating retiring to a life of reading and cooking classes, Shepard instead chose to take on his “biggest challenge yet.” He became the first dean of the fledgling CUNY Journalism School, the only public institution of its kind in the northeast. Shepard spoke with mediabistro.com about his new day, the difficulties of beginning a start-up, and how his wife is a great aggregator.

Name: Stephen Shepard
Position: Dean of the Graduate School of Journalism, City University of New York
Education, school: B.S. from City University of New York, M.S. from Columbia University
Hometown: New York City
First job: Delivered the Bronx Home News when I was 12. My first job after college was as an editorial trainee at McGraw Hill.
Last 3 jobs: senior editor at Newsweek, editor of Saturday Review, BusinessWeek (executive editor in 1982, then editor-in-chief from 1984-2005).
Birthdate: July 20, 1939
Marital status: Married to Lynn Povich (“Her father was Shirley Povich, who was a famous sportswriter for the Washington Post.”)
What’s your favorite TV show: I don’t watch a lot of TV, but I like Tim Russert on Meet the press, Wolf Blitzer on CNN.
Last book read: State of Denial by Bob Woodward, Tom Stoppard’s Coast of Utopia plays. (I always think you have to read a Tom Stoppard play before you go see it.)
Most interesting media story right now: The plight of newspapers — the Chicago Tribune, the L.A. Times, Dean Baquet returning to the New York Times. It’s a very important story.
Guilty pleasure: Chocolate chip cookies.
What’s the typical day like in the life of Steve Shepard? What media do you consume? What blogs do you read?

Well, I get up at 6:45 a.m., and start reading four newspapers a day that are delivered to my apartment — The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, and USA Today. Lately, I’ve been reading the New York tabloids, also, because the students are placing a lot of articles in the Daily News. I don’t finish all of them, but then I come to work and I’m in the office by 9:30. It depends a little bit on what day of the week it is: We have a faculty meeting once a week. We have a staff meeting once a week. I get a ton of emails and there are lots of issues to deal with because it’s a start-up school. We’re dealing with questions about technology, new courses, and student issues. It’s never the same. There isn’t the routine that there was at BusinessWeek.

I look at a lot of websites, but I don’t spend a lot of time on blogs. Two that I do look at are Buzz Machine, which is Jeff Jarvis’ — he heads the interactive program here — and Healing Iraq, which is run by a student in the graduate school.

So you don’t read any journalism or media blogs?

Well, I read Romensko everyday, and he aggregates it all. I read whatever interests me there. I don’t go specifically to a lot of blogs during the day. There’s a lot of media stuff out there, and that’s the one thing I do try to keep up with. I have Slate sent to me. I read a lot. And my wife sends me things: She’s the real syndicator.

How is your day different than when you were at Business Week?

Well BusinessWeek was very structured. It was a weekly magazine, so it had to be. Every day had a certain rhythm. The magazine closed Wednesday night, so we were reading copy Tuesday, Tuesday night and Wednesday. Thursday was relatively light, as was Friday, and then it picked up again. There were the same meetings every week.

This is much more open-ended. You need to create your own milestones for progress because you don’t have a weekly magazine to hold up and say, “Look what I did. I put out this magazine.” It isn’t like that here; the BusinessWeek thing was really like a machine. This thing is a start-up, a work-in-progress, and you get to do a lot of different things.

We’re trying to build new business models for journalism. It’s quite clear that the profession is changing dramatically, and Jeff Jarvis wants the school to be an incubator for new ideas.

How much of the “machine” over at BusinessWeek did you create, or did you inherit that system?

Well, I created most of the modern BusinessWeek machine when I was editor. The technology dramatically changed in that timeframe, obviously, so the procedures changed. We launched all the online stuff in 1994, which was relatively early for a big, mainstream magazine. It did well, and it’s doing very well now.

Do you like the difference between the rigid structure and your job now?

Well, they are different. I said that this was the toughest job I’ve ever had, and by that I meant this was a start-up, and you have to do everything. Start-ups by definition are never fully-staffed, so we had to design the curriculum, hire the faculty, raise money, get involved with design and building of the school, and a lot of those things are still going on. It’s much more haphazard than working at a magazine.

Are the skills you learned in the magazine world helping you in your new position?

Yeah, the skills that I learned at BusinessWeek were managing people, public speaking, and how to read an enormous amount of stuff in a very short time. There’s a certain similarity between being an editor and being an educator. They both involve translating and transmitting information to people — in one case, readers, and in the other, students. Both teaching and editing involve a sacrifice of ego. It’s not about you. Here, it’s about dealing with the students, and at BusinessWeek it was about dealing with the writers. Your job in both cases is to bring out the best in other people. A lot of journalists think of themselves as educators in some sense because they are reaching a public.

Are you nuts? Why in the world would someone as accomplished as you, who could be doing so many other things, who had retired, choose to take on this monster of a project?

Well I guess I’m a little nuts. I care about it; otherwise I wouldn’t have done it. It’s very hard. When I was leaving BusinessWeek, I realized this represented three of the things I care about a lot: journalism, public education and New York City. I grew up in New York, went to public schools, went to city college, and I think it’s very important to build a very good, publicly-supported, graduate school of journalism. There isn’t one in the entire northeastern part of the United States. So that means if you don’t have the money to go to one of the good private schools, like Columbia, you’re out of luck. This doesn’t seem right to me. I have a certain passion and I decided to do it…I feel a sense of mission about it.

Is there any way to answer the question, What would you be doing if you weren’t doing this?

You know, I don’t know. When I first thought about stopping after 20 years at BusinessWeek, I thought I wouldn’t do anything. I thought I would just relax and do all the things I didn’t have time to do, which is more reading, more theater…cooking classes were one idea I had. But the closer I got to the day of reckoning, the more I realized that what my wife said was true: You’ll never be able to just sit around at home and read all day. I’m still relatively young and I’m still — thank God — relatively healthy, and I felt that I had enough energy to take on one more project. I wouldn’t have done another publication, even if they would have had me. I needed to do something that was connected to journalism but somehow different. Teaching was in my background. I spent six years teaching at Columbia in the journalism school — five years as an adjunct and one year full-time when I started the Knight-Bagehot fellowship program in business and economics journalism…The other thing that retired editors do is write a book, and I had no interest in doing that. I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t have the patience to do it, and I didn’t think I had a book in me.

Really, I’m kind of shocked. I thought of all people, you, with your writing and journalistic background and experience, would have a book, or at least an idea for a book, in you.

Well, there are two kinds of books you can write in my position. One is a memoir-type book. There was a book publisher who approached me about doing such a book, and I had lunch with him and actually outlined eight or nine chapters. Then I decided…well what really happened was I couldn’t do that book and start the School of Journalism at the same time. It would have been totally impossible.

What was the book?

It was about being the editor of BusinessWeek. It would have been episodic, with little chapters dealing with certain situations, for example Bill Gates and the rise of Microsoft, and journalistically how that was played. Stuff like that…I could have done it, but I chose not to because I’d rather do this.

The other type of book is to do a serious subject, like the future of journalism, but that isn’t about you and your career. A reported book in other words. I wasn’t burning to do that. Teaching was much more interesting.

You’re talking about business journalism. Having done business journalism in some guise for almost 30 years, do you agree that there are people who are writing about business who don’t necessarily know anything about business, and secondly, are you going to be teaching business?

Well I have a real long perspective on the first part of that question because I can remember when business journalism was a real backwater, and business journalists were not the sharpest people on the paper at most major newspapers. That’s why we started the Knight-Bagehot program, and that’s why I was teaching at Columbia, but that world has changed. I would say now business journalism has a lot of smart, really talented people. It’s not a backwater anymore at all; it’s front and center as it should be. I think most business journalists are better trained. There are more business journalists with MBAs and more who have taken accounting courses or studied it in school somewhere, for example at the Knight-Bagehot program.

When we were setting up this school, one of the reasons we chose to make it a three-semester program, compared to the one-year at Columbia, was to make room for the subject concentrations. We have four of them and one is business economics.

The reason people are going back to school in journalism these days is because there’s something new to learn for the first time in a long time, which is all these new technological tools.

What are the other three?

Urban reporting, arts and culture, and health medicine. You can’t do that in a year because you have to teach so much of the craft of journalism: the reporting, the writing, the ethics, the critical thinking and so on. You need three semesters to have specialties. Someone can come through here, take the business concentration, and they get three courses in business reporting. It’s very substantial, headed by Sarah Bartlett, who was the assistant managing editor at BusinessWeek with me and a reporter for The New York Times and at Fortune, and she really knows her stuff. It’s a very, very good program.

The other part of the business question that I wanted to ask was, are you going to teach your students not only business reporting skills, but also business management skills because the world is such today that journalists are very often entrepreneurs, especially in new media, and handle business issues.

Only indirectly. We aren’t going to have a course called “Business Management,” and we aren’t going to teach advertising, public relations, and marketing. But indirectly, there are the two courses that deal with this: One is in covering companies, and the other is in covering financial markets, Wall Street, etc. Students are going to learn a lot about how business operates in the capitalist markets, and also how it’s managed. They are going to be studying companies and analyzing their performance. So indirectly, I think they are going to learn a lot about business management, but we don’t currently have a course that is management of a journalistic enterprise.

So someone could go through your school and come out knowing nothing about a CPM [a measurement for ad pricing in media] or how it’s calculated?

I don’t think that will happen with anyone who is in the business specialty or doing interactive journalism, which is 40 percent of the school. We’re trying to build new business models for journalism. It’s quite clear that the profession is changing dramatically, and Jeff Jarvis wants the school to be an incubator for new ideas. If circulation and advertising is fleeing big city dailies and, to some degree magazines and broadcast television, then we have to teach what is happening and why. Everybody will know that the advertising rates online on a CPM basis are lower than traditional media, and that this makes it much more difficult to make money online. The audience is fleeing and you aren’t getting as much revenue for their eyeballs as when they were reading a magazine. The students will know that.

Frankly, I think it’s easier to train journalists if they end up on the business side of a magazine or Web operation then the other way around. What you don’t want to happen is to have the people who are managing journalistic enterprises to lack journalistic values. So coming through a journalism school and learning those values is, to me, the most important thing. We can teach people to read balance sheets.

Has that ever caused a conflict with you where you had a sales and marketing person or a publishing side person who didn’t understand journalism.

I never had that problem with BusinessWeek because it was set-up so the editor-in-chief had enormous power, and there was a real strict separation of church and state. I also had the benefit of being the editor in some very nice, lucrative years, so there wasn’t much pressure. There wouldn’t have been anyway, but it obviously made it a little bit easier with the wind at our back, as opposed to now, where a lot of publications are operating under a state of duress.

You said that 40 percent of the school is on the interactive track. What are the other students doing?

Well, we have media tracks, meaning students can choose print, media or broadcast. The way it broke down is print is the most popular — about 45 percent — followed by interactive — about 40 percent — and broadcast makes up the rest. But everyone is required to take interactive courses and workshops. In the first semester, there’s a required course called “Fundamentals of Interactive Journalism” with Jeff Jarvis, taught along with Sandeep Junnarkar. Then, if you are in the interactive track, you take three or four more classes that deal with interactive journalism, including an entrepreneurial course, in which we deal with business model questions and how to reimagine journalism in this new age. But even if you are in the print track, you are required to do some of your stories in an interactive format, in other words, a Web package. Furthermore, all students are taking workshops to learn to use the technology. We created something called the January Academy in the intersession between the two semesters, and we ran workshops in video, audio, flash, digital photography, all kinds of stuff. We brought in trainers to teach, and the faculty is getting trained as well, so we are trying to have a converged curriculum, while still maintaining the media tracks. I can imagine ultimately it won’t be media tracks, it will just be one converged track.

Do you think you’re losing anything by not charging the tuition that Columbia does?

Well no because the school is publicly-supported school, so our revenue comes only partially from tuition and the rest comes from New York State. We don’t have to derive our revenue just from tuition.

What’s the cost?

Our tuition is $7,500 a year, including fees, so for three semesters it’s $11,250. Columbia is somewhere north of $35,000 per year. That’s one of the advantages we have. The reason this school exists is to open opportunities to people who can’t afford Columbia. We did very well in our first year getting students. Many of them were accepted at Columbia or other leading journalism schools, so we are very much in the game. Having a low tuition is very much an advantage. Nobody wants to pay more to go to school.

Some people feel that you work on your own at first, when you don’t have a spouse and kids and mortgage, but then later on you go for a “real job.” Do you feel the same way, that people coming out of your J-School ultimately want jobs, they don’t want to be self-supporting?

I certainly agree up to a point. I think that more students are going to have to make their own way as freelancers, and the technology makes it easier to do the research and the writing and so on. Some students want to have the kind of a life; they don’t want to be pinned down. It’s tough to make a living, it’s easier to do when you’re young, so I agree about that. It’s also harder to get a job as a mainstream news organization. But, yeah, I think ultimately people want the security of having a job and not a freelance life — not everybody, but most I would imagine.

The reason people are going back to school in journalism these days is because there’s something new to learn for the first time in a long time, which is all these new technological tools. They have to know these skills, and everyone in the profession is scrambling to learn them. We’re a start-up school; we started from scratch and built this into the curriculum and into the facility — the whole school is wireless, all the students are required to have Mac computers, and they are online wherever they are in the building — so we have the advantage.

Another reason people come back to school is precisely because they know the job market is so difficult that they need another credential, they need the mentoring of a faculty member, or they need a recommendation from a faculty member. They aren’t going to get the training in the workplace the way you and I did when we were young people. Staffs are too thin. There’s much less training going on in the profession, so there’s more need for graduate schools in journalism than there was.

It is strange for you working in a not-for-profit environment after working in the for profit world?

It’s totally different. It is more bureaucratic, public universities in particular because they have rules regarding the public money. It’s a little less flexible than I was used to. But you know, that’s just the nature of the beast. Universities are going to be different than private, profit making ventures.

How will you measure your success in the next three years, five years, ten years?

Good question. We want to continue to attract great students, build a faculty, and add courses as we grow.

You don’t have any specific metrics?

Well, no. We started with 50-plus students and the goal is something over 100 in three or four years. At most, we’ll get to a 150 students, but maybe not. So that’s one metric. The size of the faculty will be commensurate with that growth. But New York is a wonderful place to have a journalism school because there are so many people who want to teach.

Should journalists aspire to be educators?

Only if they want to be because it’s hard and it’s different. But yeah, I think it’s a great thing. I think some of the skills are the same of being a journalist and being an educator. Journalists are educators. They really are. The people we see who come here and want to teach — just one course let’s say — have it in them to do it, and it’s great for us. Those of us in New York City have the advantage of drawing on professionals.

[EDITOR’S NOTE: This interview contains excerpts, and has been edited for clarity.]

When he started climbing the corporate ladder, Gil Schwartz also needed an outlet for the opinions he couldn’t suppress. But as a self-described “peon,” he also didn’t want to take the risk of writing under his own name. In 1983, as Stanley Bing, he landed a column in Esquire magazine, taking shots at the laughable ways of the business world. Since then, he has also written for newspapers, a cigar magazine, Seventeen and, most recently Fortune, current home of Bing’s monthly business column. Bing has also authored numerous top-selling books. The latest, Rome, Inc. is a serious-minded sendup of “the first multinational corporation.”

Schwartz also has also risen to professional heights in his “real” life as a corporate henchman, becoming the top spokesman for CBS. His day of reckoning came in 1992, when he appeared without disguise as Bing on Good Morning America, then again in early 1996, when The New York Times wrote a story about him. “Can the person who must put the shine back on the Tiffany network continue to paint a mustache on the rest of corporate America?” reporter Mark Landler asked.

We got ahold of Schwartz, treated him to lunch at a choice table he procured, then made him and Bing sit down for an e-mail Q&A about what it’s like to be corporate cog by day, sharpshooting business humorist by night, weekends and every other spare moment.

Mediabistro: What does writing under a pen name do for you that writing under your own name doesn’t?

Schwartz/Bing: Well, for a long while I was hidden completely, and it was really terrific. When I was a kid, I always loved stuff about guys with secret identities. Zorro in particular. Big nerd by day. Guy in a silky black cape at night, flying through windows, saving people, being sort of dangerous and legendary. This was as close as I could get to that. I was younger, and didn’t understand at that time how splendid senior management generally is. I settled scores. I reported on people’s weirdness without endangering them or betraying them in any way. Nobody knew who I was. People used to send me my own column with a little note at the top saying, “I think you’ll enjoy this. It sounds like you.” I’d send it back to them with another buckslip on top that said, “Stop bothering me with this crap.”

Mediabistro: If you had to start over again, would you do it the same way? Would you recommend writers starting out who also may be in some other world professionally use a penname?

Schwartz/Bing: It depends on how you feel about getting credit for things. I used to be an actor. I’m comfortable playing a role and accepting recognition within that role. Outside that role, I’m as dull as toast. But when I put on the Bing skin, it feels a little different. Not totally. I don’t, like, drool and grow big bushy eyebrows like Andy Rooney or anything. I just tip about 18 percent to one side and see a bit differently, and write that way, too. I don’t know if I’d have gone this route if I hadn’t started out as a mole within the corporate government, but once Bing popped out he sort of had a life of his own that was a nice addition to my own. He does better at parties, for instance, and almost never disgraces himself with certain forms of outlandish behavior as I sometimes do.

Mediabistro: Even with a pen name, why did you want to take the risk? Why not keep your ideas about business to yourself, and not risk losing your job?

Schwartz/Bing: They say you’re supposed to write about what you know. I don’t know anything. So I write about business. Actually, I take that back. I don’t really write about business. I write about organizations and how they work on people. I write about festering, bleeding, suffering humanity, put to work in stultifying social structures that attempt to squeeze the life out of them and almost never succeed. I write about madness and struggle and triumph in a constricted, formalistic environment that brings both the best and worst out of people. My stuff is as much about business as Moby Dick was about whales. Okay, it was partly about whales. But there was other stuff in there too.

Mediabistro: You’re not just in the business world, you’re a spokesman for crying out loud. That must get a little dicey at times.

Schwartz/Bing: I really see no reason to comment on that at this time.

Mediabistro: Rome Inc.: How does it apply to your life as a writer? Have you had a lot of pokes in the eye with a stick? Are you the type to poke folks in the eye?

Schwartz/Bing: Look. We’re not Greece. We’re not the British Empire. But there’s a lot, if we look at Rome in a squinty way, that we can recognize about that particular corporate culture. They were very competitive. They liked to eat and drink and have kinky sex all over the place. They liked to dominate their opponents and competitors, and their world. They killed people without compunction when they had to. And in the end they over-extended the capabilities of their management and their empire. They lived in a much different time than we do, so we’re not really permitted, in a business meeting when somebody pisses us off, to reach out and pluck out their eyeball the way Augustus was said to have done on a bad day. We can, however, take away their expense account. And that’s almost as bad, you know, prices at Michael’s being what they are.

Mediabistro: You may separate Bing and Schwartz, but at this point can you expect other people to? When Bing writes in Rome Inc. about the Caligula-like behavior of the guys “on the 23rd floor,” for example, don’t you think some of the guys in Schwartz’ office building might wonder for just a moment if he’s talking about them?

Schwartz/Bing: I specifically chose the 23rd Floor because we don’t have anybody on it. So I don’t think anybody’s going to be worried.

Mediabistro: How do you manage to juggle a real career (as Gil) and a real career (as Bing)? Does it ever become difficult to juggle the two? Ever forget who’s talking, what event, etc?

Schwartz/Bing: Sometimes we get pretty tired of each other. Schwartz may want to go to sleep, but Bing has to write a column. Bing may want to work on a book that’s three months overdue, while Schwartz has to attend an industry event hosted by Henry Schleiff. So that’s not easy. Other than that, no, I’m not a complete madman yet. I can tell Bing from Schwartz for the most part, I think. Bing’s the one with the washboard stomach.

Mediabistro: How was it being “outed”? How did it feel? Didn’t you expect it? Are you glad for it now? Is it actually a relief?

Schwartz/Bing: I was outed because blabbermouth Randall Rothenberg, who likes to call himself “R2” and is now a consultant someplace, which is fitting, was gassing around at drinks with a reporter and felt it was appropriate for him to trade on inside poop he acquired while working a Esquire, where I used to write before I graduated to Fortune. So a piece was written in the Times on a Monday in January 1996 that blew my cover and inquired whether it was appropriate for me to be Bing and Bing to be me and all that censorious jazz.

My chairman at the time, Michael Jordan, had a satisfying reaction. He referred the call to his spokesman, which was me. John Huey (now Time Inc. editor-in-chief) had a hilarious comment for the record. When asked if I had violated the PR standard of ethics, he remarked that he didn’t know there was one. I’d been outed internally a while before, so very few insiders were shocked, maybe that made things easier. Since then, I find it kind of annoying. Like, every review, everything written about me has to mention Schwartz. When Tony Curtis appeared in Spartacus, did they reveal that it was really Bernie Schwartz in the little leather skirt? Did George Orwell get a lot of questions about Eric Blair and his career at the BBC? I took a pseudonym for a reason, for God’s sake.

Mediabistro: You said everyone’s being nice about your life as Bing. What about all the eye-pokers in the biz you told us about?

Schwartz/Bing: What. Are you trying to make trouble for me?

Mediabistro: Any advice for writers (or publicists, or ad execs) who might be pseudonymously writing on the side? Any words of warning, consolation or encouragement? Should they tell the boss?

Schawartz/Bing: Sure. Your pseudonym is a delicate, precious fellow. He’s hiding because he wants to. He’s Boo Radley, secreting himself in the basement of your ramshackle consciousness. Don’t haul him out into the light of day! He may die of exposure!

Mediabistro: Do you hear from folks asking for advice? Do you think there are many doing this?

Schwartz/Bing: I think there are a lot of people with plays, screenplays, novels in their desk drawers. I don’t want to give any of them any advice. I don’t need the competition.

Mediabistro: Is it even possible these days to remain anonymous?

Schwartz/Bing: Sure. Try writing literary fiction for a male demographic.

Dorian Benkoil is the editorial director of mediabistro.com

Nicholas Lemann, the dean of the Columbia Journalism School, came under fire recently for cutting funding to CJR Daily, the online arm of the Columbia Journalism Review, during which two editors quit in protest. The move, and Lemann’s thoughts on Internet journalism, even prompted some bloggers to dub Lemann the “Pope of MSM” (short for “mainstream media”). We recently spoke with Lemann (pronouced “like the fruit” lemon, he notes) about the story behind the cuts, News21 — a cornerstone of a three-year, $6 million initiative led by five universities, including Columbia, in which 44 journalism students dove into long-term investigative projects — and what it’s like being a J-school dean in the digital age.

mediabistro.com: What is your assessment of News21 so far?

Lemann: It has a lot of moving parts, so logistically it was big, big challenge. My hope is now that we’ve done it once, the next time it will be easier. The students really got a lot out of it, and all of the schools involved created something that’s not duplicative of what’s already out there. That’s a pretty big achievement.

mb: What was the biggest challenge?

Lemann: News21 is very expensive. It’s paid for by foundations. As long as the money’s available, we can execute new and valuable journalism. I would love to do it forever. My biggest concern is to come up with a financing model to keep this going.

mb: Does News21’s intensive deep focus imply there’s been a failure by the mainstream media to do to the same?

Lemann: No. I think the New York Times has 1,200 people in its newsroom. If you went to [Times executive editor] Bill Keller and said, ‘Bill, I’ve got a fabulous idea, but in order to pursue it, you need to free up 40 reporters and have those 40 reporters work as a team.’ He’s not going to do that. He can’t. No Times editor in the history of the paper has been able to do that, and they will never be able to. If we can go to a news organization and mount a small army of reporters for a summer, and can go after a very labor-intensive project, that’s a very powerful thing. No news organization can do that on their own. And we they didn’t have to [simply] trust us — we gave them the finished product, fully-documented.

mb: Is the “citizen journalism” movement valid? Does the so-called wisdom of crowds apply to journalism?

Lemann: Of course. The distinction I’m trying to hold up here is reporting. Citizen journalism does absolutely no harm and is a very helpful add-on. The only objection I have is [the perception that] it can replace full-time reporters, which you see out there a lot on the blogs. It’s additive. The Times-Picayune is possibly the greatest example of [citizen journalism utilized by newspapers]. You don’t have to make a zero sum decision. What I would caution against is defunding in news organizations because citizen journalism can do the same thing or fill the gap. It’s not about the Web. News21 was a project that was big on the Web, and we’re always increasing our commitment to it. What we were doing is Web reporting by full time reporters who know what they’re doing. But reporting shouldn’t get lost as we contemplate the wonderful potential of the Web. A person sitting at home performs a very different journalistic function than a person who is out traveling around with a notebook interviewing people.

This whole thing about gatekeepers in mainstream media — my nickname in the blogosphere is ‘The Pope of MSM’ — I don’t buy it. The important distinction is this: Do you or don’t you do good reporting? The whole perception that mainstream media and what is taught in journalism schools has something to do with this exclusion of the discourse — I just don’t buy that.

mb: Are you training people to be “real journalists” who can support themselves?

Lemann: What I tell students is, ‘If you are truly committed, I can promise you can spend your life doing reporting.’ But, if you say, ‘What exact form am I going to be doing it in 10 years?,’ I don’t know. The industry is changing very quickly. When this school became a graduate school in 1934, the dean could get up and pretty confidently say, ‘Kids, you are going to be newspaper reporters, some of you promoted to editors, in New York City.’ I like to think of journalism as a more portable set of skills. Lots and lots of our grads are self-employed. We just teach you the skills. We don’t try to teach you in a way that restricts you to one thing.

mb: What about graduates who might do something like the reporter who raised his own money from readers to go to Iraq and report?

Lemann: I have no problem with that. Lots of our students do things like that when they first get out and don’t have the annoying things us middle-aged people have like mortgages and kids. They eventually gravitate toward traditional employment if they can get it.

mb: Do you teach students how to market themselves as freelancers? Business school trains people to be self-supporting entrepreneurs. Can you see J-school doing the same thing? Or is assumption that they’re still J-school people?

Lemann: We are starting an executive training program in a few months that will get into some of that stuff. But if you come here as a J-school student, you’re not going to get courses in marketing. It’s just not part of the curriculum at this point.

mb: You’ve had some very desirable journalism jobs, and been at what some would call the pinnacle of magazine journalism — Washington Post, The Atlantic Monthly, and at The New Yorker, among others. Today you’re an administrator, with all the challenges that implies. Do you miss being a full-time writer, getting the chance to be completely absorbed in a piece you’re doing and not have a million administrative distractions?

Lemann: I like to call myself an educator, and not an administrator. I’ve had a very lucky career. I was a full-time magazine writer when I was 17. I’m 52. Part of the genesis of all of this was when I was in my late 40s. I thought that if I want to do something different in my life, I should do it now. But I intend to go back. Ex-deans tend to go back to Columbia as faculty members who have very active publishing careers.

mb: What have you learned about yourself in doing this?

Lemann: The default position of journalists tends to underappreciate the difficulty of operating in institutional roles. When I started covering politics, I found myself thinking not ‘These people are all idiots,’ but rather, ‘This is really hard.’ I have a healthy respect for what they do. I’ve been budged off that attitude. I still think being a writer is harder, but this is hard too. As a writer you are more limited, leading a Unabomber-like life.

mb: What is the Columbia Journalism School’s main purpose?

Lemann: That’s easy. We take the 200-300 best people we can get in the world, teach them the richest, most powerful journalism and find them the best jobs we can, and have a powerful influence on journalism in the aggregate. We would never tell a student who says ‘I want to be self-employed’ they couldn’t do that. But as a matter of honesty, 95 percent of the students, maybe 85 percent, say ‘I want a job at the New York Times.’ And that’s partly because of the debt they undertake by coming here. And a lot of our students can’t get that position they desire on the coasts, so we often encourage them to go to the sticks. It’s a decision that comes up all the time.

mb: What is your daily media consumption like?

Lemann: Nothing super interesting. I read the New York Times, Washington Post and Wall Street Journal as a sort of baseline experience. I read Slate faithfully. I’m addicted to Romenesko…

mb: And mediabistro, of course.

Lemann: And mediabistro, of course. I look at Gawker, Google News, some political sites. I’m in no way comprehensive with what I read, just because of the limited time I have.

mb: Are there any restrictions to students in terms of blogging?

Lemann: We started the Columbia Journalist, in response to students wanting it. And we said you have two options: you can start it on your room, go off campus, rent a room, whatever, with total editorial freedom. Or we can start a school site that the famous gatekeeper phenomenon applies. And they wanted that.

mb: Why?

Lemann: They wanted something that would maximize their chances at a traditional journalism job, which they thought a school-hosted site would be.

mb: You took a lot of criticism recently for cutting the budget of the CJR Daily. What do you say to that?

Lemann: I would love not to have done so. CJR Daily didn’t have a staffed Web site when I came in. I had the opportunity to start a Web site called the Campaign Desk to monitor press coverage of the campaign, which was staffed. My not-so-hidden agenda was to use that to start a permanent, staffed Web site. I sat down with [CJR Daily managing editor] Steve Lovelady and said I want to start this site, but I gotta be honest, I need to find the funding for it. Let’s do this for a year, I have a couple funding prospects, but if we can’t find the money we’re going to have to cut the budget. He understood that. We have five people producing content for CJR Daily — I believe that’s more people than the Washington Post has producing original copy for their web site. I think we’re still pretty committed, but we couldn’t stay committed at the level we were at. Steve had the argument to de-fund the print side, based on the sort of cosmic argument you hear from Web people that print is dying. But I just didn’t want to do that.

And it wasn’t that that I couldn’t keep a newsroom of 8 going and replace it with a newsroom of 5 — we’re having trouble keeping a newsroom of 5 going. We’re going to start running Web advertising soon, but the estimates I see are in the low six-figures. And the 8 person staff was up around $650,000 editorial cost. So if you give me the money I’ll bring the people back.

mb: Are you saying you might have to cut back further?

Lemann: Yes, absolutely yes. We have a funding stream that will last for about two years; after that, I can’t promise anything.

[EDITOR’S NOTE: This interview contains excerpts, and has been edited for clarity.]

Candy Crowley began her career as a gopher at WASH-FM in Washington, and has risen all the way to senior political correspondent at CNN. Along the road, she’s worked everywhere from UPI and Mutual Broadcasting to the AP and NBC. Not bad for someone who’s a writer at heart and only got into the TV business because it “fulfilled the need to have a paycheck.” TVNewser’s Brian Stelter caught up with Crowley to ask about her career.

Name: Candy Crowley
Position: Senior political correspondent, CNN
Company: Turner
Education: Randolph-Macon Women’s College
Hometown: born in Michigan, raised in St. Louis

Did you always want to be a journalist?
I always wanted to be a writer. But the problem with being a writer is, unless you’ve written your first book, they don’t pay you a whole lot to sit at your house and write. So this fulfilled the need to have a paycheck. And since then I’ve grown to love journalism.

But the first motivation was the motivation to write.
Well I always liked history papers more than I liked English essays. I was always driven toward true things, as opposed to fiction.

How’d you get your foot in the door?
My first job was at WASH-FM when it was a MetroMedia station in Washington. I just worked this minimum wage split shift thing. Basic gopher work, calling around to find out what happened the night before.

I went from there to AP, but I had an interim with UPI for about six minutes. You work with the wires when you’re a local station. It’s easy to get to know those people. So I had accepted a job at UPI, and then I quickly got a job with AP.

Then I went from AP to Mutual Broadcasting. And then I went from Mutual back to AP. And I had children. Then I went from AP to NBC. And then to CNN.

Is there a lesson in that pattern?
You know how people tell you it’s ‘right place right time?’ It’s true. I think there are a lot of talented journalists out there who are probably far better than I am. I just happened to be sitting there when the opening came. There’s a lot of that to it. Of course, you have to take advantage of the openings.

When I think back, I think ‘wow – that was a stroke of luck.’

Your title is “senior political correspondent.” What’s your specialty, your niche?
Politics sounds so boring, and I think people roll their eyes when you say ‘I cover politics.’ So what do I cover? [She pauses and thinks for a moment.]

It’s great people-watching. And that’s the only way I can really describe it. Sometimes I’ll take the 20,000-foot view. Or look at how the ’08 people are reacting to the State of the Union. Or what’s at stake in a certain bill. I’m always looking at things with an eye to the next election.

Take me through a typical week, if one exists.
There’s really not a typical week, which is the best part of it. I love the travel. I love that the ’08 election has started so early, because it gets me out and gets me going.

In an election year, there’s a lot of being away from home. This is sort of an election year, even though this isn’t THE election year. So there’s travel several times a month. So in that week, it’s airports – Cleveland, Des Moines, Columbus, Nashua.

When I’m home for the week, sometimes there are things coming up that I know will be a story, so there are things I’ll work on. Like ahead of the State of the Union –- what’s the political dynamic as Bush gives his speech?

Other times the story will come to you – someone will literally run into your office and say something like ‘John Kerry’s not running in ’08.’

And then you try to pick up a little news. You make as many phone calls as you can in the morning to pick up what’s out there and generate a little news.

What kind of story do you find most satisfying?
The ones I got. The ones that didn’t come and drop in my lap, but that I got. That’s a high.

Can you think of an example?
The night of the 2000 election returns. I was standing in very cold, rainy Austin, Texas, and the phone rang for my producer. He said ‘What? What? I’m going to hand the phone to her.’ It’s a very good source in the Bush camp who says, ‘Al Gore just called to retract his concession.’

There was this JumboTron behind us, showing news coverage to the crowd. It’s just a really high moment, because as I reported the news, I could hear myself echoing in the background and the crowd gasping. It was a double whammy.

What is it about television that attracts you to the medium?
When the TV is done right – when the pictures and the words are working with each other – for impact there’s nothing like it. There really isn’t. It’s such a high when something works well in television, because it can be so powerful.

The beauty of working in print or working in radio is that it’s a solo endeavor. In TV it’s a team effort.

Would you consider going back to print?
Well we write stories for dot com and do podcasts, integrating our platforms as they say. In the last campaign I blogged for friends and family, which was really fun. I sent all my jokes and snide remarks to my family and friends without that showing up in public. It would be hard to go back, but I could see myself in print again at some point.

Why would it be hard?
Because the medium of TV is so endlessly fascinating to me. Now they’ve got CNN Pipeline, and it’s all coming together in this one big thing. It’s fascinating to me to watch this industry progress, and get into all these kind of things that I never would have dreamed of when I was at WASH-FM cleaning carts.

Who do you look up to?
One of my all-time favorites is Tom Brokaw. I think he is terrific. Peter Jennings, same thing. I just thought they were consummate reporters and anchors. In terms of reporters, Lord, I can’t start, because there are a lot of them out there that are really good, that are poets in their own light, and are really good reporters.

And you’re in that category now, too.
I’ve never tried to stand out or make a name for myself. I always just wanted to do the story. If you do stand out and make a name for yourself, that’s great. But I don’t know anybody – well, yeah, I do – most people I know are in this because they love to find things out. They love to report, they love to tell things, they love to relay things to people. I’m consistently startled when people come up to me.

Still?
Yeah, I still am. It’s just me walking through the airport. I don’t think ‘Wow, this is Candy Crowley walking through the airport.’ It’s hard to see yourself as anything other than the mom or the friend, because that’s who you really are.

Brian Stelter is the editor of TVNewser, mediabistro.com’s blog that brings readers the “news on the news.”

To call Steven Heller the most widely-published design writer and editor on the planet would still be selling the man short. True, he is a regular contributor to more than a dozen visual culture magazines like Eye and Print. Yes, he’s the editor of AIGA’s authoritative graphic design journal VOICE. And he has authored more than 100 books about design, illustration, and photography; he guesses his most recent, Stylepedia: A Guide to Graphic Design Mannerisms, Quirks, and Conceits, to be about #105. For nine years he has also had a rather important role at the School of Visual Arts, where he co-founded and is the co-chair of the highly influential MFA Designer as Author program. But all of this has been accomplished, mind you, while holding down a full-time job as art director at The New York Times for the past 33 years, currently as a Senior Art Director.

Heller has recently taken a sabbatical from the Times to work on a book on the history of Totalitarian graphics campaigns and a biography of the designer Alvin Lustig. He conducted a spirited email rally with UnBeige editor Alissa Walker about great interviews, celebrity designers, and why, honestly, he can’t wait to go back to work.

Name: Steven Heller
Position: Senior Art Director, New York Times; Co-chair, MFA Designer as Author Program, School of Visual Arts, New York; and editor, VOICE: AIGA Journal of Design
Publications: Writes for more than a dozen magazines on a regular basis, author of more than 100 books.
Favorite writing assignments: Designer and illustrator obituaries for the New York Times
Website: www.hellerbooks.com
Education: NYU (two years), SVA (six months)
Hometown: New York City
First job: New York Free Press (as young adult), Bergdorf Goodman ad dept (at 12 years old)
Last 3 jobs: New York Times for 33 years
Birthdate: 7-7-50
Marital status: married
Favorite TV show: The Twilight Zone and The Simpsons
Last book read: Walter Benjamin and the Aesthetics of Power, by Lutz Koepnick, about Hitler as an artist and art patron.
Most interesting media story right now: Bush’s New Folly, otherwise known as strategy.
Guilty pleasure: Flea marketing

I’m so nervous about asking you questions that I feel like I’m gonna puke. Do you ever get nervous interviewing people anymore?
I don’t get nervous, unless I have no interest in the person I’m interviewing, and then I worry about sounding stupid out of malaise. You know, it’s like being a guest at friend’s son’s bar mitzvah and having to talk to someone’s boring uncle. Every so often, but not always, I’m stuck interviewing Uncle Mo.

Well, every time I’ve seen you interview someone, they always say, “Wow, that’s a really good question.” How does one ask good questions?
Well, it helps to ask questions that people want to answer. You always can tell when someone has been asked the question a million times before. Their eyes roll and they take deep, sighing breaths, and make it seem like you’re a know-nothing. So, the more insightful the question — which usually comes from your own basic interest in the subject — the better. Then there are the questions designed to unhinge the interviewee. I don’t do that a lot, but sometimes I want to get a “reaction” because that’s what will make for a good read or listen.

What about your interviewing techniques, if you can divulge them? Do you ever use an instrument to record and/or transcribe?
For years I would use my trusty cassette player — usually face to face, but sometimes over the phone with my trusty suction cup — until one day I did a great interview with the illustrator James McMullan and when I returned home, nada. Nothing recorded. Embarrassed, I had to ask him to do it all over again, and of course it wasn’t as spontaneous. This time I brought two machines and used them both. Good thing too, because one of them actually — believe it or not — didn’t work. After the interview, rather than listen to the recording, I sent the tapes to my trusty transcriber — a jazz geek, who was the fastest transcriber in the east. Now I use a digital recorder.

As for techniques, no big secret, when I talk to a subject I start with simple questions then work my way up to the biggies. Sometimes the subjects are effusive, other times they are not. The biggest pain, so to speak, is editing. If it is a long Q & A I always send the edited script back to the subject. Invariably, they try to rewrite it. I remember Maurice Sendak totally rewrote his one time. But the rule is they can fix grammar and punctuation; even rewrite a sentence or more to make the voice smoother, but no deep alterations to the content.

How many interviews do you think you’ve done in your career? Who was your favorite?
Geez, I have done many hundreds, maybe more. I don’t even remember how I started. I’ve enjoyed a lot of them for different reasons — I like getting the skinny on something I didn’t know, or finding I have surprisingly common interests with a subject, and we become kinda like friends. I’m not Barbara Walters so I can’t say I’ve interviewed Mel Gibson, Britney, A-Rod, K-Fed, or Henry K (although I wish, some day I could interview Mel Brooks).

My subjects are artists, designers, and writers — people who don’t have to do a PR thing for my benefit. My favorite, however, was a celeb: Hugh Hefner, simply because he was such a figure in my ill-begot youth. I also loved interviewing Bob Downey Sr., a great filmmaker, whose Putney Swope was such an influential picture when I was a teen. But I’ve enjoyed interviews — or rather talks — with scores of people from David Levine to Shepard Fairey.

Funny you mention celebrities, since this is something that’s come up of late — the question being if graphic designers could and should ever be considered celebrities. Should they be?
Frankly, the word celebrity is too charged. A celebrity suggests hype. Should graphic designers be hyped? No. Anything hyped outlives its usefulness pretty quick. Designers should be seen and maybe heard on occasion, but not elevated above their station unless they do more than what they do as mere graphic designers.

“Then there are the questions designed to unhinge the interviewee. I don’t do that a lot, but sometimes I want to get a ‘reaction’ because that’s what will make for a good read or listen.”

That said, there are some graphic designers who are more celebrated (which is a verb and not exactly the same as the noun celebrity) than others because they do great work, and that’s as it should be. If the fame comes from having a savvy PR person — like a couple I know — then, even if the designer’s work is great, I think ego has gotten the upper hand. So, you might ask, do I interview designers because they are celebrities? The answer is I try to interview those who I believe have something to impart beyond the artifacts they produce — those who think and speak well about craft or about the culture that influences their craft. Interviews certainly contribute to the cult of celebrity you’re asking about, but my intent is not to perpetuate it. Rather I think there are many people in our field who are worth “knowing,” either personally or through an interview.

Well, I think people get all riled up about it because they think having design celebrities is the only way design will ever be understood by an audience larger than those who practice it. Which is fed by this design awareness movement that we’re currently seeing, where design and designers are being featured in the mainstream media more than ever.
Celebrity certainly draws attention to the graphic designer, but not necessarily to design as a profession. However, designers who create consumables, as opposed to packages for consumables, are more well-publicized to the public at large. Arguably Michael Graves became more famous among the great mass for his teapot than his architecture, likewise Philippe Starck got high visibility for his products. Mainstream media — lifestyle and shelter magazines and supplements — usually focus on design that sells in the marketplace, not the esoteric stuff, unless the newly celebrated designer also does experimental stuff and is championed by some pundit.

If being known to others helps designers gain stature in business or government, that’s great. I know that Paula Scher is on the Art Commission of the City of New York and that’s wonderful because her position will have important ramifications on the way art and design is addressed on an official level in the city.

And you currently co-chair a new MFA program at the School of Visual Arts, called Designer As Author, which, to me, represents the future of this whole celebrity designer debate. Your students are encouraged to become design entrepreneurs, right?
We’re in our ninth year — and I run it with co-chair Lita Talarico. The Designer as Author program is about creating ideas that have some relevance to the culture and the market (I know that sounds like a pat response), but it’s much less about forging celebrity than about creating value. Some of our students have achieved a bit of positive buzz, but that’s not the goal. We train the students, if that’s the right word (maybe encourage is better) to think and do for themselves and create a narrative that underscores a product that builds upon their story. I guess more and more designers will become entrepreneurs simply because the tools are at their disposal — and speaking of disposal, this culture encourages disposability. So we encourage students to make products that have long-term results. Why shouldn’t designers invent and discover like all them other inventors and discoverers out there? We have ingenuity, too, don’t we?

So you do consider yourself a designer, then. That was actually one of my questions. I always thought of you as design’s biggest fan; more of a social commentator. You don’t have any formal design training, and as I recall, prior to getting your job as an art director at The New York Times your professional experience mostly consisted of art directing a few sex reviews — when you were 17! How in the world did you land that gig? Were you actually qualified?
I just finished writing a piece for Eye about how, because we are not a licensed profession, we can call ourselves anything we choose. You ask if I am a designer? I am! Am I a good designer? I was! What changed? I reached the end of my skill set as a designer and became an art director, which meant I collaborated with others to get (hopefully) fantastic results. Without schooling — learning on my own — I could not go further as a designer. Maybe even with an education I would not have gone much further either. Yet I have designed many things, from books and magazines to posters and leaflets — even a film title sequence. I used to love designing letterheads (which are in my prepubescent portfolio) and I even designed an entire typeface called Klaus Bubala Bold (because only the K U and B were interesting).

Before being hired at The New York Times Op-Ed page in 1974 I was designer/art director for various underground newspapers, publisher/art director of a couple of small underground sex papers, art director/designer for Screw, as well as Evergreen Review, the Irish Arts Center, and a bunch of other things. Was I qualified to be the art director of The New York Times Op-Ed page? Sure, or the great Louis Silverstein wouldn’t have hired me, and the stunning Ruth Ansel wouldn’t have recommended me. Am I a great typographer? Not really, and I got worse over time not better. But I know enough to critique great (and bad) typography, and I’ve written or edited a bunch of books on type. I’m not so much a fan as a wishful thinker. I always wished that by associating myself with great designers something would rub off. I still bask in the talents of designers like Louise Fili and illustrators like Christoph Neimann. I get charged every time designers like Seymour Chwast, James Victore, Hans Dieter Reichert, Helene Silverman, and Mirko Ilic, “interpret” what I do editorially, or when an illustrator like Henrik Drescher or Mark Sumers takes my brief and makes imagistic magic. Yeah, I guess I am a fan. Yahooooo.

Ha — you snuck the incredible Louise Fili in there as just another designer you’re basking in the talents of, but I bet some people don’t know she’s your wife. (No wonder you’re such a fan!) You recently collaborated with her on your most recent book, Stylepedia, which you guessed is about your 105th book. You’re certainly the most prolific voice for design and its environs, but it’s a pretty small space, and 105 books is a lot. Do you worry you’re too prolific, to the point where you might be dominating this niche market?
Certain friends (I think they’re friends) have cautioned me against being too prolific lest I devalue myself or make others resentful. I’ve heard it so many times I should have a prepared answer. But I must say I’m always dumbfounded. While I don’t think everything I do is as good as it might be (or as good as someone else might do), I believe that I have something useful to contribute to our “niche.” But more important, at least for me, I have this boundless curiosity that translates into books and articles. Have I over-saturated the “niche?” I don’t know. Probably no more than Rick Poynor, who is just as ubiquitous, or Ellen Lupton, who is just as prodigious. We each have our respective strengths (and weaknesses) that contribute to the design “discourse.” Michael Bierut is currently on a roll with his excellent writings for Design Observer and soon a couple of authored books will be out. I’m sure there are some people who might say I’m monopolizing the stage, but I’d counter that I’ve made a lot of stages for others. What’s more, by doing a book on, say, Paul Rand, I haven’t stopped others from doing so. And I wager that few people would have wanted to do the book I produced many years back called Not Tonight Dear, I Have a Haddock.

You’re right, probably not — but I’d definitely like to read that. You’re also right about how you’ve created stages for other design writers — you’ve helped bring design criticism, for example, into somewhat of a golden age. But my only question is when? You’ve managed this freelance career on top of a full time job for 30 years, you’re co-chair of this MFA program, you answer emails lightning-fast and I’m pretty sure you have a life, too…can you divulge for freelance writers some of your Steven Heller time management secrets?
I don’t think it’s a matter of superb time management as much as filling up time. Without getting Freudian or Jungian or Marxian (Groucho that is), I make up for my deficiencies by appearing to be prolific. Everyone works at their own rhythms, which, if we’re lucky, is in sync with our interests and curiosities. You at UnBeige post six items a day — and you probably do a lot of legwork to do that — for some that’s a tremendous amount of work. But it’s your job, and your passion. I simply do what turns me on (and turns off some of the demons and voices raging in my head). I also like being able to tally up accomplishments, and these come in waves. This year my wave is establishing new MFA programs at the School of Visual Arts, like the brand new MFA in Design Criticism (to be chaired by Alice Twemlow) and a few others that are top secret at the moment. Next year, maybe it will be knitting large scarves.

Well, you’ve just gone on sabbatical from The New York Times so what else are you going to do with all this free time?
I wish it were free, but I’m paying for it. The Times has been my family, and I’ve ostensibly left home (although I still write for the paper). I’m doing more at the School of Visual Arts, and working on my books, but I pulled up the anchor in my life. You know how they say the “holidays” are always a stressful and depressing time. Well, I never ever used to think so. I’ve loved New York at Christmas time since I was a wee lad. This year was my first “academic holiday.” The school was closed and I had no office to go to. I was adrift. Sure, I finished some articles, read, went to a lot of exhibits, visited a few landmarks, rendezvoused with some people, took a meeting or two, but felt disturbingly unproductive. A friend asked if I had a good vacation. My response was it felt more like a lock out (reminiscent of when the Times went on strike two decades ago, and I was literally “locked out” of the office). I apologize if I am sucking the air out of the room with self-pity, since there is no real reason to be pitiful. Yet to be productive (and therefore feel jolly) the conditions must be right.

“Steven Heller wanders the streets of New York, searching for missing jolly, adrift, making keen observations and sending me photos of brilliant scaffolding.” You know what? You need a blog!
Alissa, lest I be a curmudgeonly heretic I must say in jolly fashion, there are too many blogs. Too many opinions, observations, commentaries, drivel-ings (oops, my prejudices are showing). It’s not that I don’t drivel myself, but a blog would be an open invitation to unrestricted, unedited, and unwanted me. I’d much rather pass a few choice observations to you from time to time. The fact is, and forgive me for saying it, the design field should be about making great work (and smart thoughts, and at times insightful words); design first and foremost is about making functional (often beautiful) objects that make a difference to others’ lives — don’t you think?

You know, Steve, that’s a really good question.