Word: murdochized
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...magazine during the highest of its haute-smartass days nearly two decades ago. Young Felker left Esquire in 1962, but became even more conspicuous in publishing and partying circles by founding New York in 1968, losing it this year in a bitter fight with Australian Sleaze-paper Publisher Rupert Murdoch (TIME, Jan. 17), and then scouring the globe for some new publishing adventure. Last week he found an old one: Esquire...
...Esquire more timely-by shortening its Rip Van Winklesque lead time (the January issue is now in preparation) and doubling the magazine's frequency. Felker, 51, is tight-lipped about what else may mark his reign, but emphatic about what will not. Still smarting from his takeover by Murdoch, he has worked out an agreement with Harmsworth, whose firm is putting up most of the purchase price, that he will not be removed while Esquire is successful. Vows he: "What happened with New York will never happen again...
...West's extravagant start-up costs were partly responsible for Felker's fall and the New York Magazine Co.'s takeover by Australian Publisher Rupert Murdoch (TIME cover, Jan. 17). The magazine was turned over to a dizzying succession of new editors and writers struggling on their own. Murdoch has not ordered any major changes for New West, possibly because he is absorbed with his more important acquisition, the New York Post. As a result, Managing Editor Frank Lalli, a holdover from the Felker regime, has been given greater autonomy...
There are ambitious mavericks in every field (Clay Felker of New York in magazines, Rupert Murdoch in newspapers) who know the expected limits of respectability in their craft, but choose to succeed by excess. Arledge is such a man. His conversation is full of proper responses ("A commentary mustn't fight the film," "The single biggest problem of television is that everyone talks so much," "The first law of football is that when the teams line up, you go to the play-by-play man"); yet it is he who stuffed the Monday night booth with three garrulous commentators...
With so many genes busily at work, all would seem to be well with the author's warm-weather fiction. But Novelist Weldon is much too fond of the kind of ornateness that clutters Iris Murdoch's lesser novels-in this case, the ponderous idea that Hamish is Rumpelstiltskin and Elsa is the poor girl for whom he spins straw into gold. Gemma insists that Elsa do huge batches of typing each night. Elsa can't manage it, but Hamish...