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The tyrant, and genius, who saved the New York Times

By PHILIP GAILEY
Published May 14, 2006

I wish to pay my respects to A.M. "Abe'' Rosenthal, a legendary newspaper editor who died last week at age 84. With the support of his publisher, Arthur (Punch) Sulzberger, he was the brilliant architect of the modern New York Times. It is not much of an exaggeration to say that Abe Rosenthal saved the Times by making bold journalistic changes, some of which were disdained at the time as unworthy of the stodgy "newspaper of record.'' I think it is safe to say that Abe will be remembered as the greatest editor of the nation's best newspaper.

In the 17 years he led the Times newsroom, Abe invigorated the paper's journalism, improved its writing, started a national edition, expanded its coverage at home and abroad, and created new reader-friendly sections. He also had the guts to stand up to the Nixon White House and publish the Pentagon Papers. The changes attracted new readers and advertisers, and Pulitzer Prizes came in bunches during Abe's reign at the Good Gray Lady - 24 in all.

Abe was a genius and an occasional tyrant who demanded both personal and institutional loyalty from his editors and reporters. Known for his mood swings and volatile temper, he was both feared and respected. But he had a generous and forgiving side, too. He kept his personal politics - conservative in some areas - out of the newsroom and expected his reporters to do the same. The New York Times was his life for almost 60 years, and woe unto the reporter who dented its reputation or credibility. He took it personally. I can't imagine the Jayson Blair scandal breaking on Abe's watch - or his nuclear reaction if it had.

When I was ushered into Abe's office for a job interview in August 1981, after the Washington Star sank on me, I was greeted by a short, rumpled man wearing thick black glasses. He wasn't the fearsome presence I had expected. He led me to his small hideaway office to talk and tried to put me at ease.

It was a job interview like no other I have had in more than four decades in the newspaper business. In fact, it was more of an event than an interview. After maybe 20 minutes, Abe suddenly stood up and said, "Do you want to work for the New York Times?

I said something like, "There's nothing I want more.''

Abe asked again, this time with emotion, "Are you excited about working for the New York Times?''

"Absolutely,'' I replied.

He told me I had a job in the Times' Washington bureau and gave me a congratulatory bear hug. Then he broke out a bottle of scotch and we toasted the happy occasion. Instead of shaking my hand and sending me on my way, Abe took me around the newsroom to introduce me as his latest hire and invited a half dozen or so staffers to join us for drinks at Sardi's, a Times hangout around the corner. It was Abe's way of saying that being hired by the New York Times was a big deal, a very big deal. And, of course, it was.

This was the good Abe. Less than two years later, I would experience the wrath of Abe the Terrible. The editors in New York wanted to send me, a Georgia native, to the paper's Atlanta bureau, once a coveted assignment for Southerners at the Times. And thanks to Abe, there were plenty of Southerners on the staff. I think he collected them. The joke used to be that Abe was the head of a Judeo-Redneck conspiracy at the Times.

I declined the assignment because my wife had her own career in Washington, something that Abe didn't think should be a factor in my decision. The next thing I know I get a sizzling letter I could have fried an egg on. He made it clear that a New York Times correspondent goes where he is asked to go, just as military people go where they are told to go. After venting his anger, Abe concluded his letter by saying all was forgiven - this time. He didn't have to say the obvious, that the next time I was asked to make a move for the Times, I had better plan to start packing - either for a new assignment or for a new newspaper.

His critics within the Times newsroom - and there were plenty of them - complained that Abe was behind the times culturally and politically. For example, he had decreed that "Ms.'' and the word "gay'' were not fit to print, not in the pages of his newspaper anyway. He was seen as sexist and homophobic, and he might have been. All I know for sure is that a breakthrough in the paper's coverage of gays occurred on his watch.

I wrote a story about Dan Bradley's secret life as a gay man and his public life as head of the Legal Services Corp., a semigovernmental agency that provided legal aid to the poor. Bradley, who later died of AIDS, came out of the closet in the story. Some of my colleagues said the piece would never get by Abe. But they were wrong. The story ran as written, and gay activists hailed it as a turning point in the Times' coverage of the gay community.

Every reporter I know who was hired by Abe Rosenthal, including some who became victims of his dark side, wears it as a badge of honor. I want it in my obit.

[Last modified June 27, 2006, 12:33:59]