Dear Bill:
Congratulations.
I know there are those who will question your sanity for taking on the job of editing The Times under the current circumstances, but my unsolicited advice: let them fry in the grease of envy.
What an incredibly wonderful opportunity you have. You're now the Executive Editor of our finest newspaper, the one that regularly sets the agenda for excellence in journalism.
Sure, the formerly old gray lady has some black and blue marks on her. The Jayson Blair fiasco and all of the tragic fallout was like getting hit by Dick Butkus in his prime. That's why it is so important for you to strike the right tone from the get-go. And it has to start with a lot of internal healing.
You know the mistakes that were made. Al Siegal and his committee pals are putting together a playbook for you to read. That doesn't mean everything they say will be golden, that everything will work. From what I know, that newsroom has been dysfunctional for a long time, and it isn't likely to be turned around in a fortnight.
When I attended API at Columbia years ago, our group was invited to a cocktail party at
The Times by Punch Sulzberger. At the end we asked one of our members to offer a thank-you toast.
His closing words were these: "And, Mr. Suzberger, we want to thank The New York Times for showing us everything we ought to do and everything we ought not do in the same newspaper."
He wasn't talking about how The Times worked inside the newsroom, but he could have been. Communication and collaboration, accessibility and accountability, sourcing and attribution were just some of the things that seemed to be missing in the newsroom toolkit. It was a culture that provided more questions than answers about policies and standards in those areas.
And, still, great journalism was committed. The same team of leaders who presided over Blair led the magnificent Sept. 11 coverage that resulted in a closet full of Pulitzer Prizes and taught us again how much humanity means in our pages.
I am sure you know what needs to be done, and you don't need someone hundreds of miles away offering suggestions, but, what the heck, I will anyway.
First, be approachable. Make sure there isn't any invisible barrier on that open door. Get out of your office and work that large room and get people excited again about the thing that counts, quality journalism.
Foster a spirit of inclusion so that everyone can feel they have a stake in the overall success of the paper. Let people know their ideas are important.
Own up to your mistakes and spread the glory around. Set an example that reminds us why we love journalism. Work to eliminate personality in personnel decisions. Learn who needs a soft touch and who needs a harder push. Articulate your vision, but involve others in deciding on the vision and goals for the future.
Create an environment as free of fear as you possibly can for a room full of skeptical and introverted journalists. Do your best to build a tolerant, diverse, and enjoyable place, a place where politics and creative tension are not the avenues to success. A place where there are stars, but the stars aren’t treated any differently when it comes to standards and policies.
A place where diversity is nurtured, preached and practiced in a manner that enhances professional development. A place where training and coaching are appreciated and not just seen as something needed by others who haven't yet made it to The Times.
And don't be afraid to insist that a culture of sensitivity, a culture of trust, a culture of caring is what you want.
In our business, change is usually as welcomed as an enemy approaching in the night. But I think you have a period when change will be welcomed as a long-lost friend. Use it wisely, because the rest of us in journalism need you to succeed and succeed splendidly.
One of my heroes when I was growing up in this business was Mr. Turner Catledge, who sat in that chair you now occupy.
It was probably because we both had the same beginnings, small Mississippi weeklies, mine in Bay St. Louis, his in Philadelphia.
And I remember hearing Mr. Catledge speak once to a Mississippi Press Association gathering and he said something I have never forgotten.
Catledge... never forgot that what we do, at a small Mississippi weekly or at the large New York Times, are the same things, just in different sizes.
"When I was flying down here," he said, "I was reading the Sunday edition of The Times. It was more than 200 pages and we printed hundreds of thousands of copies. I was trying to figure out how long it would take to print that one edition on the old, two-page, flat-bed press at that weekly where I started.
"After a lot of math, I figured if we ran that old press 24 hours a day for 24 years, we could have printed that one edition of the The Times."
And then he added, "I guess I have come a long way."
Indeed, he had. And he brought honor to The Times and to our profession because he never forgot that what we do, at a small Mississippi weekly or at the large New York Times, are the same things, just in different sizes.
We gather information and we do our best to preserve the power and elegance of our words, the beauty and grace of our images, and the values and judgment that should be brought to bear on the flow of that information.
We do our best to be accurate and balanced and fair, to seek objectivity in our work.
We do our best to serve our readers and our communities
My wish for you is that as you do your best, as I know you will, that the conversations about The Times will once again be about its triumphs and not its failures, about its journalism and not its heartaches, about its contributions and not its sins.
Oh, one other thing, when you have that initial meeting with your key editors, do yourself a favor. Tell them that the first time two editors sit next to each other and refuse to talk about a major problem that is affecting the great institution you now lead, as happened with Blair, you will momentarily forget about being a caring leader. And wish them well in their next jobs.
Best wishes,
Gregory
P.S. I really do envy you.
