Part XIII: When Rupert Murdoch Took Over New York Magazine

The Byron Blog consists of writings, photographs and anecdotes related to my father, Byron Dobell (1927-2017)  

In January 1977, Rupert Murdoch, known for publishing tabloid journalism, bought New York magazine, where Clay Felker was editor-in-chief and my father, Byron Dobell, was editorial director (managing editor). It was one of the first of Murdoch’s many US acquisitions.

Prior to Murdoch’s takeover, artist and prolific caricaturist David Levine was commissioned by New York to illustrate Jon Bradshaw and Richard Neville’s article about Murdoch’s career and his inroads into US journalism. He depicted Murdoch as a killer bee taking over Manhattan (“Killer Bees Head North” was a headline in one of Murdoch’s US publications). The caricature and article never ran in New York, but was published in February 1977 in More magazine. My father had Levine’s original drawing above his desk for many years. 

David Levine’s Rupert Murdoch as Killer Bee, 1977

 

 

Following are some Dobell family memories and mementos of the Murdoch takeover.

For detailed accounts of Murdoch’s takeover (and there are plenty of details), see:

https://time.com/archive/6852364/the-battle-of-new-york/ (Time, January 17, 1977)

http://www.thestacksreader.com/a-fistful-of-dollars/ (Gail Sheehy, Rolling Stone, July 14, 1977)

https://presscriticism.com/2011/08/05/the-profile-of-rupert-murdoch-that-rupert-murdoch-killed/ (Kevin Lerner 2011)

 

From my stepmother*’s letter to her family in Memphis, Tennessee, early 1977:

 

* Elizabeth Rodgers Dobell (1936-1992) became my stepmother in 1969, when my father married her following my mother’s death in 1967. Elizabeth was a writer and editor.

 

Well, the New York Magazine war is over – and we lost. Although Byron now has a terrific job [editor-in-chief of Esquire], and things here, finally, are beginning to simmer down a little . . .

 

[After Christmas, we learned] that the board of directors of NYM corporation was going to sell the company [to Murdoch, dooming efforts by Felker to buy the magazine himself] . . . [On New Year’s Eve, we] ended up at Walter and Bina Bernard’s (he’s the Art Director at New York) as did Clay [Felker], Milton [Glaser] and a lot of other people. A lot of gallows humor, but ending up about two o’clock in the morning with a firm determination on the part of everyone to fight. Sunday night, about one o’clock, Byron came up with the idea of a walkout – we rolled out of bed and began making calls, trying to find out how to form a union immediately. Impossible. On Monday, though, the staff did threaten a walkout, there was a big press conference, and Byron and Richard Reeves . . . were on television a lot that night.

 

Clay’s lawyers kept saying a walkout would hurt Clay’s case [to stop the sale] – Byron kept saying: “They’re not telling us the right thing,” and finally, on Thursday, the staff did walk (and ended up hiding out in our apartment, at least a number of key people who would have had to be fired on the spot if “found” by either Clay or Murdoch at that point). Then, Thursday night, the lawyers realized the walkout actually was helping Clay, and told the staff to stay out on Friday – that turned out to be Clay’s only real bargaining power . . . The staff at least got Clay released from a three-year contract that would have forced him either to work for Murdoch, or not be able to work in publishing at all for three years. (The entire staff walked, which astounded Byron, who all week kept trying to protect people he felt might not be able to get other jobs).

 

[On Friday, January 7^th, Clay settled.] There was a very emotional meeting that night of the staff and Contributing Editors (and me) at a restaurant called Chicago . . . I was sitting in the balcony looking down; John Bryson (the photographer) was standing right behind me. Just a few people shown [in Bryson’s photos], but about a hundred were there. Lots of crying. Afterwards, about 15 or 16 people showed up at our house, . . . later we all moved down to Clay’s apartment.

 

From John Bryson’s photos of New York staff meeting at Chicago, January 1977; Byron (center) and from left, in circle around Byron, Sheldon Zalaznick, Clay Felker, Milton Glaser, Lou Ann Walker, Walter Bernard, Dorothy Seiberling, and others.

Anyway, it was wild and the phone literally rang here day and night** . . . Byron resigned the next day, Jan. 8 [even though under the terms of the agreement, he was given a two-year contract making him editor-in-chief] . . . Byron said he just wouldn’t have the heart [to stay]. It was Clay’s magazine . . . Byron resigned out of personal loyalty to Clay, and a sense of his own personal integrity. Half of all the Contributing Editors quit immediately also (certainly most of the “star” writers) and others would have, but they had no place else to go – and Byron kept telling everyone, over and over, that they shouldn’t resign until they had other jobs . . . Byron just felt his position was different . . . Byron did agree to stay for two weeks for the sake of the remaining staff’s morale, and to help with the transition . . .

** I was 15 years old at the time and what I remember most is answering a call from a reporter and saying, at my father’s direction, “No comment.”

 

Anyway, Byron got a lot of job offers . . . He finally decided to accept the offer from Esquire – and started as Editor-in-Chief there yesterday . . . Esquire was both the most prestigious and the most challenging job Byron was offered, and I guess he couldn’t turn it down, even though it will mean he can’t paint for a while.

[Editor’s note: Less than a year after Byron was named editor-in-chief of Esquire, Clay bought Esquire and became both publisher and editor-in-chief. Clay asked Byron to remain as editor under him, but Byron resigned soon thereafter and went on to edit other magazines, including American Heritage, where he was the editor-in-chief from 1982 until 1990.]

 

And finally, a parting gift from New York staff:

Part VII: Byron’s Eulogies

The Byron Blog consists of writings, photographs and anecdotes related to my father, Byron Dobell (1927-2017) 

My father was good at eulogies. He wrote and delivered them for family (his parents and his in-laws) and for friends and colleagues (including editors Sey Chassler, Clay Felker and Rust Hills, and artist David Levine). His remarks combined gravity, wit, admiration and love. 

Among the eulogies he kept in his files were two for younger friends and colleagues who died in their fifties, editor Don Erickson and writer Walter Karp. 

1988

Don Erickson

Esquire colleague 

Age 56 

 

https://www.nytimes.com/1988/08/03/obituaries/donald-erickson-a-magazine-editor-at-the-times-56.html

We gave a party for Don when he resigned from Esquire in 1979 to become editor of The Dial magazine and, among other speakers, I said a few words. I’m going to read them now because I’m glad I read them while he was alive: 

“In 1964, I was lucky enough to be the man who first interviewed Don Erickson for a job that was open at Esquire. We met at a convention of editors in Asheville, North Carolina. I had a drink with him and listened to his ideas for the magazine; when I returned to New York I recommended we hire him immediately. Don is the kind of editor all magazines dream of and search for. We knew it from the moment he first sat down at his desk. To begin with, he was much smarter than the rest of us. When someone submitted for publication the world’s hardest spelling test, we tried it out on the Esquire staff. Out of a possible 25 correct answers, no one on the staff was able to spell more than nine words – except Don. He got more than 20 right. 

He was also wittier than the rest of us. I will always remember a title Don wrote for a story on Elizabeth Taylor. At that time she was overweight, over forty, and in the midst of her husband’s Senatorial campaign. Don’s title for the story was ‘National Velveeta.’ 

Don was also more patient as an editor than the rest of us . . . 

Which leads me to his ultimate virtue: the courage to say exactly what he thought and to say it very well . . . Here is a man of intelligence, wit, patience and courage – and he’s a better dresser than the rest of us too . . .” 

So much for my 1979 speech . . . Finally, and this is my last goodbye to Don, I can say now what I couldn’t have said without embarrassment to his face. Don, you were the measure to me of honor and integrity; life is worth living so long as there are a few people like you in the world. 

 

1989

Walter Karp 

Pageant colleague 

Age 55  

https://www.nytimes.com/1989/07/20/obituaries/walter-karp-writer-specializing-in-political-history-is-dead-at-55.html

Walter was a fiery Puritan who at the same time was the most convivial and worldly of men. Quick to see, reveal and condemn the abuses, lies and hypocrisy of power, especially when (to use his favorite word) power usurps the legitimate will of the citizenry. He made us see the mess of our times through the eyes of an 18th century Enlightenment man – he was as close to a reincarnation of a Founding Father as would be possible 200 years after what was for him the greatest political event of all time – the establishment of the Republic . . . 

Walter was my friend of 32 years standing. I hired him for his first magazine job, I sent him on his first trip to Europe, I published his first book. And starting in 1958, Walter, his dear friend Marvin Gelfand, Charlie Monaghan and I met each Christmas Eve in The Algonquin where we drank each other’s health and reviewed the joys and sorrows of the past year. These reunions seemed to spur each of us to heights of wit and loquaciousness . . . But several times, when life had been grim enough to keep me, at least, all too sober, I observed that whatever the delusions of the rest of us, the genius of the occasion was always Walter. Walter the proud, Walter the brave, Walter the very best of us and all we knew. Walter died too soon. He was meant to be a wise old man, around whom the world and his friends and wife and children could gather and find comfort and joy for many, many more years. We can only be grateful for the years Walter did give us.