When editors were gods

The editor who lived like a cave man

It was on this day (September 20) in 1929 that Burt McConnell, associate editor of The Literary Digest, then a major national magazine, embarked on a planned 10-week experiment to live like a prehistoric cave man in the Canadian wilderness.

The point of the experiment and/or stunt was, in McConnell’s words, to prove “that we still retain some of the characteristics and instincts of our remote ancestors, that we have not grown soft through easy living.”

He also seems to have had a book deal.

Newspapers across the U.S. reported that McConnell was heading into the wilds “naked and unarmed except with cameras and a typewriter.” A closer reading of his own accounts indicates that he kept his underwear on.

McConnell, age 41 at the time, chronicled his adventures in a series of syndicated newspaper columns that somehow made their way back to civilization.

“Here I was, a ‘cave-man’ without a cave—without even a fire, food, clothing, or shelter, which I believe are considered the four prime necessities of civilized man,” he wrote in an early dispatch. “Which of these, I asked myself, was the most important. To some, the answer might have been food; to others clothing. To me, however, it seemed that if I had a shelter, I would not need any of the others until morning.”

So, equipped with an ax that he said had been forced upon him by the forester who dropped him off in the wild, he went about chopping down trees and building what he described as a log cabin.

Shelter having been checked off the list, and some hours of daylight still remaining, he decided to do something about food. Ax in hand, he began following some moose tracks he had noticed.

The actual moose seems to have eluded him, but he did come across a moose hide, stowed away in the tree branches by, he assumed, a local Indian. The moose hide happened to be wrapped around a deer hide, as well as a dog-skin pouch, so he now had the beginnings of a proper cave man outfit. He admitted that there was an ethical quandary involved in making off with a stranger’s hides but decided that the law of self-preservation took precedence in this case, and did.

In another early column, he described how he went about making his hunting gear, which ultimately included a bow and some arrows, a seven-foot-long fishing spear with a sharp moose horn at the end, and a 20-foot raft, presumably for spear-fishing excursions. He lavished particular attention on his rabbit snares, also constructed from the versatile moose hide:

“My rabbit snares are the usual loops with a running noose at the end,” he explained. “The loop is about three and one-half inches in diameter, and, since rabbits hop along, with their heads about four inches from the ground, the loop is placed in a well-worn runway at about that height, suspended from a twitch-up—a bent sapling so notched as to fit into a peg driven into the ground at the side of the runway. The rabbit puts its head in the noose (sometimes), the jerk frees the twitch-up and—if you are lucky—he is left dangling in the air.”

McConnell also seems to have eaten his share of squirrels.

Further episodes included his quest to get a good, up-close photo of a bull moose and his ongoing battle of wits with a weasel that kept stealing his food.

In a late column, shortly before his return to New York City, he attempted to sum up what he had learned.

On the minus side: “In my enthusiasm I saddled myself with too many handicaps. Whereas primitive man could call upon a group to help in the hunting, I was obliged to work alone. I was compelled to cut and haul my own wood, carry water for cooking and drinking purposes, tan my own skins, cook my food, and make my own clothing—all of which was usually done by Mrs. Caveman.”

On the plus side: “I would not, however, give the impression that I have not thoroughly enjoyed these two months in the wilderness. I have. It has meant a great deal not to have to live up to the demands of an artificial civilization, with its haircuts and shaves, tight shoes and collars, and so forth. A simple diet of meat and fish has taken off approximately 12 pounds of surplus weight and five inches of waist-line, so that I am almost down to normal size. I feel rested for the first time in years.”  

After another three decades of adventures, including service in World War II, McDonnell died in 1960 and was buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

Scientific American's Joe Biden endorsement joins list of magazine firsts

With its just-announced endorsement of Joe Biden for president—believed to be a first in its 175-year history—Scientific American joins the list of major magazines that have broken with long tradition to enter the electoral fray.

Vogue (founded 1892) didn’t make its first presidential endorsement until October 2016, nearly 125 years later.

“Vogue has no history of political endorsements,” the magazine observed in its announcement. “Editors in chief have made their opinions known from time to time, but the magazine has never spoken in an election with a single voice. Given the profound stakes of this one, and the history that stands to be made, we feel that should change. Vogue endorses Hillary Clinton for president of the United States.”

Other magazines that made their first-ever presidential endorsements on behalf of Clinton that year included Glamour (founded 1939) and Wired (founded 1993).

They were joined by The Atlantic Monthly (founded 1857). Prior to Clinton, The Atlantic seems to have made only two presidential endorsements: Abraham Lincoln in 1860 and Lyndon Johnson in 1964. That’s an average of one every 53 years.

Also in 1964, The Saturday Evening Post (founded 1821) broke its longstanding tradition of backing Republican presidential candidates to endorse Johnson. Making its position about as clear as possible, the magazine called Johnson’s Republican opponent, Barry Goldwater, “a grotesque burlesque of the conservative he pretends to be. He is a wild man, a stray, an unprincipled and ruthless jujitsu artist like Joe McCarthy.”

A spokesperson for the Post said the magazine could find no evidence that it had ever supported a Democrat editorially—“certainly not in this century.”

Among other firsts: Black Enterprise (founded 1970) made its first presidential endorsement in 1980, supporting the re-election of Jimmy Carter. The New Yorker (founded 1925) made what was reportedly its first presidential endorsement, of John Kerry, in 2004. Esquire (founded 1933) endorsed Barack Obama in 2008, in what it said was the first endorsement in its 75-year history.

Whether such endorsements ever make a difference in election outcomes is anybody’s guess. But one can always hope.   

Dogged editor in dognapping drama

On this day (September 2) in 1948, the Associated Press reported the apparent theft of Marco, a Pekinese puppy belonging to Richardson Wright, longtime editor of House & Garden magazine, five days days earlier. Wright was vacationing on Cape Cod at the time of the incident, which was witnessed by the wife of his estate's caretaker.

The United Press, which also covered the story, said Marco was “believed to be the first recorded victim of a ‘dognapping.’”

According to the caretaker, Marco was playing with another Pekinese named Mickey in front of the Wright home when, “A big car drove up and stopped and whoever was in it grabbed the dog. My wife was so shocked she can’t describe either the car or the people in it.”

The caretaker added that soon after the alleged dognapping he had received a phone call demanding “as much money as you can pay” for the release of Marco.

Reached by a United Press reporter, editor Wright stood firm, vowing “not to pay a cent” to the dognappers.

Fortunately, the matter came to a happy ending a day later when a Stamford, Connecticut, man phoned the Wright home to report that he had the dog. He said he found Marco wandering on a highway, thought he was lost, and took him home. Later, he’d heard about the alleged dognapping on the radio.

The police wrote the mysterious phone call off as a misunderstanding, possibly a stranger who had read about the incident and simply wanted to know whether Wright was offering a reward.

Wright retired from House & Garden the following year, after a remarkable three-and-a-half-decade run as the magazine’s editor.

A noted book critic deconstructs magazine editors, and it's not pretty

"A magazine, in spite of what most writers think, requires an editor, and it often seems to help if the editor is a little crazy, at once a monster of egotism and a clump of twitchy nerve-endings, obsessive and compulsive and anal while at the same time given to mystic spasms. He needn't be nice; he doesn't even have to be articulate. He merely consults the compass of himself." — Critic John Leonard, in his 1981 review of Robert Sam Anson's "Gone Crazy and Back Again," about the early years of Rolling Stone magazine.

How an editor is like a jockey, per the late Gail Sheehy

“An editor without a publication is like a jockey without a horse.” — author Gail Sheehy, in her 2014 memoir, “Daring: My Passages.”

For context, Sheehy is referring to the ouster of founding editor Clay Felker from New York magazine in 1977, with the arrival of new ownership. Sheehy would later marry Felker, and her memoir includes many lively tales about him and other well-known editors of the era.

Sheehy died this past Monday (Aug. 24, 2020), at age 83.

The editor's hereafter, as seen by one famous cartoonist

"Editors who take an awful satisfaction in rejecting manuscript are piled in huge, red-hot iron waste-baskets.... In the valleys and on the mountain-sides, in caves and in ditches everywhere, were to be seen these waste-baskets, each holding at least one hundred and fifty editors. I trust this news will send a thrill of serene joy through the heart of the struggling story-writer and the amateur poet." — Art Young, in his 1894 book, "Hell up to Date," in which a cartoonist visits the netherworld and reports back, Dante-like, on what he saw there.

Young was a famous cartoonist and writer in his day, primarily known for his work with the Socialist magazine The Masses. Here, for struggling story-writers and amateur poets everywhere, is Young's illustration:

 

Two more editors who were work-from-home pioneers

We’ve already covered H.L. Mencken, who did much of his editing at home, as well as on trains between New York City and his native Baltimore. Mencken enthusiastically recommended the practice to his fellow magazine editors.

Here are two other editors who did much of their editing from home, making full use of the technology of the day.

Gordon Carroll, editor of Coronet magazine in the late 1940s and early 1950s, reportedly edited it from his home in Wilton, Connecticut, visiting the company's New York City offices only once every two weeks, on average. It’s possible that he got the idea from Mencken, whom he apparently knew early in his career as a reporter on the Baltimore Sun.

In the winter of 1949 Carroll decamped with his wife to St. Petersburg, Florida, continuing to edit Coronet from there. “He explains that he keeps in constant touch with his office on Madison Avenue by means of air express pouches, containing proofs, manuscripts and other documents, which he sends and receives at regular intervals,” a local newspaper reporter wrote.

“It’s a shame national magazines can’t decentralize,” Carroll told the reporter. “This is the ideal atmosphere for writers, and it’s only four hours from New York by air. Winter conditions in the North cut down efficiency.”

But perhaps the all-time edit-from-home champion was Fulton Oursler, absentee editor of Liberty, a mass-circulation weekly, and editorial director of at least seven other magazines owned by the eccentric magazine lord Bernarr MacFadden.

Oursler said he was inspired by John Brisben Walker, who bought Cosmopolitan magazine in 1890, installed himself as co-editor, and in 1895 moved the magazine from New York City to Irvington-on-the-Hudson, New York, in suburban Westchester County.

As Oursler recalled in “Behold This Dreamer!,” his autobiography, “Mr. Walker answered a question of mine — why had he published Cosmopolitan so far from New York? — by explaining that he wanted to get away from people and have time for his work. As I recall it, his home was in Tarrytown-on-the-Hudson. He said it was hard to get there from New York and that most of the people who would make the journey to see him really had something worthwhile to offer, or thought they had. That is where I got my idea of long-distance editing.”

Oursler pitched his editorial tent in a number of locations, including Hollywood, but most famously in a sprawling house on Cape Cod, starting full-time around 1932. An unattributed footnote in “Lights Along the Shore,” a collection of Oursler’s magazine writing, gives a glimpse of this methods:

“For 12 years, working by phone, teletype, [and] Western Union [Oursler] and a staff of four secretaries…handled the daily mountain of manuscripts, vouchers, art work, [and] duplicate dummies…which arrived at…11 o’clock [at the] West Falmouth Post Office and the similar load that went back on the 4:45 train.”

Every four to six weeks, Oursler seems to have visited his company’s New York City offices, using the Waldorf-Astoria as his temporary editorial headquarters.

Abbie Hoffman: Your check is not in the mail

On this day (August 6) in 1976, newspapers reported that Crawdaddy, a rock music and counterculture magazine, was having difficulty finding a mailing address for its new travel editor, who was due a check for his first contribution. The trouble was that the travel editor, Yippie leader Abbie Hoffman, had been on the lam from authorities since 1974. Hoffman eventually resurfaced in upstate New York in the early 1980s.

Editing for 'ninnies' in the 'boonies'

"It used to be you could sit in New York and feel that you were talking to a whole lot of ninnies in the boonies. The attitude was 'Oh, we are the editors in New York and we are going to tell those people out there what to do and how to do it.'" — Kate Rand Lloyd, editor of Working Woman magazine, in a 1980 interview. Over a long magazine career, Lloyd also worked as an editor at Glamour and Vogue.

JFK Jr. covers for George, 1996

On this day (July 30) in 1996, John F. Kennedy, Jr., publicly defended the latest cover of his magazine, George. The cover featured a photograph of Drew Barrymore channeling Marilyn Monroe in her famous 1962 Madison Square Garden appearance, where she sang a sultry rendition of "Happy Birthday" to the junior Kennedy's father. In case anyone might have missed the reference, the major coverline was "Happy Birthday, Mr. President."

Young Kennedy, who seems to have had a knack for attention-getting magazine covers, insisted, "I don't see what possible taste questions could be involved. If I don't find it tasteless, I don't know why anyone would."

For those interested in more about the photo shoot, "JFK Jr., George, & Me," by the magazine's creative director at the time, Matt Berman, covers it in some detail.

 

 

When magazines had friends in high places, 1911

“I believe the editors and publishers of magazines are the greatest educators of our time.” — Rep. Champ Clark (D-Mo.) addressing the annual dinner of the Periodical Publishers of America, 1911. 

Clark was, at that point, Speaker-elect of the House, and he would narrowly miss becoming his party’s presidential nominee at its 1912 convention.

The 3-D craze hits the magazine racks, 1953

On this day (July 25) in 1953 newspapers announced the forthcoming debut of 3-D Screen magazine, an early attempt to cash in on the 3-D craze of the 1950s. The magazine, published by the Kable Printing Company of Mount Morris, Illinois, came complete with a pair of cardboard 3-D glasses, with red cellophane for one lens and blue for the other.

Issue #1 of 3-D Screen seems to have featured an assortment of female Hollywood stars, including Marilyn Monroe, Zsa Zsa Gabor, and Janet Leigh. Pictured on the cover was the famously busty actress Jane Russell, across from the memorable coverline, "So Real You Can Almost Touch Them."