After months of breathless anticipation and editorial wrist-cutting, the Village Voice merger with alt-weekly juggernaut New Times has resulted in the "new" Village Voice Media (owned by the New Times, natch), effective today. What does it mean for nervous staffers? Writes New Times CEO Jim Larkin:
We happen to be mildly terrified of people in German-inspired costumes. (We imagine our tolerance for such things was snipped off, along with some other bits, eight days after we were born.) At the Times business section, however, one hopes this particularly neurosis is in short supply. The Bizday administrator sent this reminder (or, warning) this afternoon:
Once, long ago, magazines had their own, separate identities. Typically, this included their own, separate editorial and business staffs, and even often their own real estate. When Si Newhouse bought The New Yorker, for example, he promised that he wouldn't integrate the magazine into Conde Nast, today its business operations are unified with the rest of the company, and the its staff toils in 4 Times Square.
Two days after a trio of big promotions in the Times's Washburo, Romenesko this afternoon catches a memo announcing a trio of big promotions up at NYT HQ.
Late yesterday evening, the New Times (the alt-weekly megaplex that now owns the Village Voice) gave Voice publisher Judy Miszner her pink slip. Miszner had spent the past seven years at the paper but, given the New Times "merger," she probably saw this coming. (Editor Don Forst likely saw the same fate for himself, leading to him to resign before they had a chance to formally can him.) Her replacement with be Miami New Times publisher Michael Cohen. We look forward to seeing what sort of magic his pastel suits and speedboats will work on the alt-weekly.
Big changes afoot — big, outsourcing, job-costing changes afoot — at the New York Times cafeteria. Word came Friday:
As much of the city sleeps today, there's all sorts of exciting news at the two local dailies you're least likely to read.
Because America sort of sucks lately, Sun vice-president and general manager Stephen Hastings is leaving the Young Republicans altogether and heading to the Great White North, where he'll join the staff at the Toronto Star. His replacement is former marketing and circulation VP Augie Fields; Augie comes from Depression-era Chicago and has worked as a soap salesman and boxing coach. He arrived at the Sun, naturally, in search of a worthwhile fate.
About a month ago, Fairchild Publications — the Newhouse publishing division behind W, WWD, Jane, Details, and all your favorite rag-trade trade pubs — sent a company-wide email reminding staffers of its prohibition on holiday-time gifts from "clients and contacts." But Fairchild is being merged into Newhouse's glitzy and glossy Conde Nast umbrella, and that's creating an interestingly dichotomous Christmas season. Emails a Fairchild friend:
Sixth months ago we were leaked — and we published — New York Sun deputy managing editor Robert Messenger's plans for a comprehensive overhaul of what he saw as a foundering newspaper. We were also leaked then — but we didn't publish — Messenger's musings on his dissatisfaction with his Sun job and his hopes of someday moving to The Atlantic instead.
Silly, silly us: This Conde Nast memo has been moldering in our inbox for a few days, repeatedly getting buried behind all the other tips and insults. But now, as we say a quick yisgadal v'yiskadash on this first night of shiva for Andrew Krucoff's tragically departed Conde career, it seems a good time to pass on word of how you can let your child being taking advantage of for the entertainment of craven media planners and the enrichment of the even more craven Newhouses.
It was, it seemed, the weekend when Millerpalooza finally, dramatically, exploded, leaving little bits of blown-about Judiana strewn everywhere: a torn bit of quilted Burberry jacket wedged into Friday night, shreds of a "Valerie Flame" notebook tossed like confetti onto Saturday, Sunday brunch haunted by St. Regis memories of Scooter Libby, a Barney Calame hangover lingering into Monday.
Shellfish don t fry in the kitchen, pork don t burn on the grills in y alls respective apartments today. But in the face of Yom Kippur, Gawker powers on. Since J.Co and Jesse are at services (read: finishing up their degrees at University of Phoenix Online), the site will be manned by guest editors/sabbath goyim Alex Pareene and Noelle Hancock. Jews: Always gotta be hiring other people to do your shit for you, huh?
It didn't come our way till after we were done for the day, but we'd be remiss in not posting Bill Keller's memo to his Timesian troops from yesterday afternoon, responding to the earlier memo on company-wide staffing cuts and proving yet again that he is not Howell Raines.
While we remain unable to get TimesSelect to recognize us as home subscribers — a kindly Times tech dude emailed some tips for fixing things, but they didn't work — we're thrilled to see that the Gray Lady, flummoxed though it might be by this ten-year old medium, has at least finally mastered a half-century-old one.
You know you're really behind in your reading when even a few months in prison won't leave you enough time to catch up. We learn of this bibliocrisis from a memo sent yesterday to the Times staff.
We like it when Times jefe Bill Keller channels Joyce for (largely incomprehensible) portions of staff memos:
Oooooo. Some interns got in trouble.
