Chapter 8

_Mad_ magazine, an institution in American humor ever since it first appeared in 1955, is one of the few publications on the newsstand that carries no advertising. In the past few years, rising costs and changing tastes have driven Mad's circulation slightly below two million, but publisher William Gaines has no plans of giving in to commercialism.

"I was brought up on a newspaper called _PM_," recalls Gaines, an instantly likable native New Yorker who looks like a cross between Santa Claus and a middle-aged hippie. "It sold for a nickel while everything else was two cents. Its policy was to take no ads, and I was kind of brought up on the idea that it's dirty to take advertising." His face breaks out in merriment, and he laughs the first of many deep, rich, belly laughs that I am to hear that afternoon.

"I don't think your publication's going to want to print that, so you'd better leave it out. Um, so I, I. ... I mean, it's not --" he sputters, before quickly recovering and driving the point home with his customary journalistic finesse. "As a matter of fact, if you're going to take ads, I think the way your people do it is the way to do it. If you're _going_ to take ads, give the publication away. But if somebody's putting out money, it's not right. It's like going to the movies and seeing a commercial. Television, fine: you're getting it free."

We're sitting in his somewhat disorderly Madison Avenue office, which is decorated with paintings of monsters, huge models of King Kong, and a collection of toy zeppelins suspended from the ceiling. When Gaines is asked about lawsuits, his eyes sparkle with glee.

"We have been sued many times. We've never been beaten. We had two cases that went to the U.S. Supreme Court. The first was on Alfred E. Newman (the gap-toothed, moronic-looking character who appears on the magazine cover). Two different people claimed it was theirs -- a woman by the name of Stuff and a man by the name of Schmeck. Neither one knew about the other one, and we didn't tell them. It was pretty fun when they all got to court and found that both of them were claiming to own Alfred. Through a series of decisions, the Supreme Court decided that neither one of them owned Alfred, and we were free to use him.

"The other case was when Irving Berlin and a number of other songwriters sued _Mad_, because we used to publish a lot of articles of song parodies which we'd say were sung to the tune of so-and-so. And they took umbrage to that. They said that when people would read the words, they were singing their music in their heads. The judge ruled that Irving Berlin did not own iambic pentameter."

The son of a prominent comic book publisher named M.C. Gaines, William planned to become a chemistry teacher when he returned to college after World War II. Then his father was killed in an accident, and Gaines decided to enter the comic business himself. "I started putting out some very undistinguished, dreadful stuff, because I didn't know where I was going. After three years, Albert Feldstein (_Mad's_ editor) joined me, and we just had a rapport right away. We started putting out stuff that we had a feeling for -- science fiction, horror, crime."

These comics, known as E.C. Publications, are today worth up to $200 each. Classics of their genre, they became the target of a Senate subcommittee on juvenile delinquency. Largely because of public pressure, Gaines dropped all of them except _Mad_, which he changed from a 10 cent comic into a 25-cent, more adult magazine. The complete E.C. works have recently been reprinted in bound volumes.

A divorced father of three, Bill Gaines hates exercise, and drives the 18 blocks each day from his Eastside apartment to the _Mad_ office. His favorite hobbies are attending wine and food tastings, and visiting Haiti. "I've been there about 20 times. It's a wild, untamed place. Something in my nature is appealed to by that kind of thing. ... They have no maliciousness toward tourists. I was almost shot there twice, but it was by mistake."

Things are so relaxed around the _Mad_ headquarters that eight out of the nine full-time staffers have been with the publication for more than 20 years. "Our writers and artists are free-lancers," says Gaines. "Most of them have been with us 20 years also. ... We get quite a few unsolicited manuscripts, but most of them, unfortunately, are not usable. Every once in a while we'll get one, and then we've got a big day of rejoicing. ... We're always looking for writers. We don't need artists, but you _never_ have enough writers. And we firmly believe that the writer is God, because if you don't have a writer, you don't have movies, you don't have television, you don't have books, you don't have plays, you don't have magazines, you don't have comics -- you don't have anything!

"We don't assign articles. The writers come to us with what they want to write, and as long as it's funny, we'll buy it. And we don't care what point of view, because _Mad_ has no editorial point of view. We're not left, and we're not right. We're all mixed up. And our writers are all mixed up -- in more ways than one."

died 6-3-92. born 3-1-22.

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WESTSIDER RALPH GINZBURG Publisher of _Moneysworth_

7-8-78

Less than two months ago, the U.S. Supreme Court passed an edict allowing the police to raid the files of newspaper offices in search of information relating to a crime. "If they came here, I'd stand at the entrance and block their way," says Ralph Ginzburg, gazing out the window at his suite of offices near Columbus Circle. "I don't care if they arrest me," he adds in his thick Brooklyn accent.

The owlish-looking Ginzburg means what he says. He's the publisher of _Moneysworth_, which is mailed each month to 1.2 million subscribers. It is the most successful item he has ever published, but there is no doubt that he would risk losing it and going to jail, because Ginzburg has done so already. In a flamboyant career marked by much notoriety, he has emerged as one of the most important figures of his generation in expanding the freedom of the press.

Of the six magazines and newspapers that Ginzburg has founded, none has caused such a stir as his first one, _Eros_, which lasted from 1962 to 1963. "It was the first really classy magazine on love and sex in American history," he says. "I signed up 100,000 subscribers right away, at $50 a year. Many leading American artists contributed to it. The big difference is that it was sold entirely through the mails. Our promotion of subscriptions through the mail got a lot of complaints."

About 35,000 complaints, in fact -- more than the U.S. Post Office had ever received up to that time. Ralph Ginzburg was charged with sending obscene material through the mails, and _Eros_ was forced to suspend publication while the debate went on. Most Washington lawyers, after examining the magazine, concluded that it was not obscene. But the case became a political issue, and in 1972, 10 years after the so-called crime had taken place, Ginzburg was ordered to serve an eight-month term at the federal prison in Allenwood, Pennsylvania. His imprisonment led to a nationwide outcry by intellectuals and public officials.

Not long after the demise of _Eros_, Ginzburg started another magazine called _Fact_. It, too, ended over a lawsuit. This time the plaintiff was U.S. Senator Barry Goldwater. He sued the magazine for $2 million on the charge of libel, and was awarded $65,000 in damages. "It was a compromise, as jury decisions frequently are," remarks Ginzburg. "Unfortunately I didn't have very much money back then, and it wiped us out."

Describing the case, he said: "In 1964, when Goldwater was running for president, he advocated the use of nuclear weapons in Vietnam. I thought the guy was out of his mind and I wondered if anyone else had the same suspicion. ... We polled all the members of the American Medical Association who were listed as psychiatrists and asked them if they thought Goldwater was fit to be president. We printed their replies and their long-distance diagnoses ... "

Both the _Eros_ case and the Goldwater case made the American public examine some far-reaching questions: What is obscene? What is libelous? Ginzburg helped to establish new definitions for these terms, and in so doing, widened the power of the press.

_Avant-Garde_, his third publication, existed from 1967 to 1970. "It was born during the Vietnam uprising in this country," he explains. "It was a magazine of art and politics, and had no ad revenue."

In the same year that _Avant-Garde_ folded, he began a newsletter called _Moneysworth_. Soon it expanded into a full-sized newspaper. "It was launched," says Ginzburg, "because we felt that the only existing periodical in the area of consumer interest -- _Consumer Reports_ -- wasn't broad enough. Spending money is more than buying appliances."

While _Moneysworth_ does carry many valuable tips on personal finance, it also has a considerable amount of sensationalism that would seem at home in the _National Enquirer_. Even so, Ginzburg's managerial skills, his nonstop working habits, and his literary expertise -- he has written several books -- have made _Moneysworth_ a winner. Using the same staff of 40, along with many free-lance writers, he now publishes two other monthly newspapers as well, _American Business_ and Extra!

He has been a Westsider for 15 years, and his publishing company, Avant-Garde Media, is located on West 57th Street.

If Ginzburg has a single goal right now, it's "to saved up enough money to enable me to put out a periodical exactly like _Avant-Garde_ was. It was pure pleasure for me: there was no commercial compromise. But even though this is a multimillion-dollar corporation here, I can't afford it at the moment. ... Money is important in publishing. I have to spend 99 percent of my time and effort chasing the buck. I guess I'm lucky. Most people spend 100 percent of their time that way."

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EASTSIDER LILLIAN GISH 78 years in show business

1-5-80

D.W. Griffith, the father of motion pictures, used to say there were only two people who outworked him -- Mary Pickford and Lillian Gish. Pickford, who died last May, made her final film in 1933. But Lillian Gish never got around to retiring. At 83, she is perhaps the most active living legend in America.

Sipping tea at her Eastside apartment, which is decorated like a Victorian drawing room, Gish appears to have defeated time. Her clear blue eyes, porcelain-smooth complexion, and slender, girlish figure have not changed all that much since she rose to international stardom in Griffith's controversial 1915 classic, _The Birth of a Nation_. She also starred in his 1916 film _Intolerance_, a box office failure when released, but later recognized as a masterpiece.

An animated speaker who makes sweeping gestures, she still has the crystalline voice and flawless enunciation that enabled her to make the transition from silent films to talkies and Broadway shows in the early 1930s. The 1978 Robert Altman film _A Wedding_ marked her 100th screen appearance.

"I've never worked harder in my life than I have in the last three or four years," says Miss Gish, who, during that period has made her singing and dancing debut in Washington's Kennedy Center, hosted a 13-week series for public television, _The Silent Years_, appeared in an ABC-TV movie of the week, and toured the world three times to present a one-woman show that combines film clips with narration. Her autobiography, _The Movies, Mr. Griffith and Me_, has been translated into 13 languages.

"I dedicated the book to my mother, who gave me love; to my sister, who taught me to laugh; to my father, who gave me insecurity; and to Mr. Griffith, who taught me that it was more fun to work than to play," she recalls with merriment, describing how her mother wound up in the theatre around 1901 due to financial need. Five-year-old Lillian and her 4-year-old sister Dorothy soon followed in the business. "We didn't use our real names because we didn't want to disgrace the family. ... They used to have signs on hotels: 'No actors or dogs allowed.'"

She never got a chance to attend school. "I loved the book _Black Beauty_, and everybody would read it to me on the train or waiting for the train. Well, I finally had it read to me so much, I knew it by heart. And that's how I learned to read. When we were travelling around, mother would always take her history book. When we were in historical places, she'd take us to where history happened."

At the height of her silent film career, Lillian received 15,000 fan letters a week, many from overseas. "Silent films are the universal language that the Bible predicted would bring about the millennium. ... When Mr. Griffith made his first talking picture in 1921, he said, 'This is committing suicide. My pictures play to the world. Five percent of them speak English. Why should I lose 95 percent of my audience?'

"One of the things I'm trying to do now is to bring back silent films and beautiful music. I'm doing it with my film _La Boheme_, which was made in 1926. I've done it in the opera house in Chicago with an organist, and at Town Hall here. Harold Schonberg of the _New York Times_ gave it the most ecstatic review."

Her credits include an honorary Oscar award, dozens of major stage roles, and a movie that she co-wrote and directed. But Miss Gish, with characteristic modesty, prefers to talk about her friends and family. Bitterness and complaint are alien to her nature, although life has not always been easy. She never married, and her mother, to whom she was highly devoted, spent the last 25 years of her life as an invalid. "But she was never unhappy," testifies Lillian. "She was always the first to laugh, and the gayest."

Following her mother's death in 1948, the apartment was given to Dokey, her nurse, who died the following year. Then Lillian and Dorothy Gish shared the apartment until Dorothy's death in 1968. Although Lillian now lives alone, she has no opportunity to be lonely. Besides work, travel, and reading -- her favorite activities -- she has 13 godchildren.

One thing that helps keep her young, says Miss Gish, is her intense curiosity. "I was born with it, thank heavens. I feel sorry for people who say they're bored. How in the world can anyone be bored in the world today? How can fiction complete with what's going on?"

A few of her films, have been lost forever, since no original prints exist in good condition. Most, however, are still shown around the globe, which explains why her autobiography is available in such languages as Burmese and East Malaysian. The Museum of Modern Art on West 53rd Street has one of the country's finest collections of vintage Gish films.

One of her upcoming projects is a movie based on a story by the Danish writer Isak Dinesen, scheduled to begin shooting in Europe this winter. Another is a television pilot to be shot in California for Julius Evans.

Asked to name some of the things she is most curious about today, Miss Gish quickly replies, "Naturally what's happening in Cambodia -- how they're going to solve that problem. Those poor children. It breaks my heart. ... And who's going to be our next president. We've come to the point where we should have two presidents, I think -- someone to look after the world and somebody to look after us."

died of natural causes 2-27-93. born 10-14-1893

WESTSIDER MILTON GLASER Design director of the new _Esquire_

2-11-78

Two decades before _Playboy_ first hit the newsstands, there was only one men's magazine in America. A generation of schoolchildren grew up speaking its name in hushed whispers, though anyone reexamining those early issues today could hardly understand why. The magazine was _Esquire_.

Its popularity has dipped somewhat in recent years, but _Esquire_ still sells one million copies per month. And it still has the reputation of being the most tasteful, literary, and sophisticated publication for the American male. If some people have complained that it has not kept up with the times, they won't be able to say that any longer -- not since _Esquire_ became the property of Clay Felker and Milton Glaser, the publishing team who made _New York_ magazine into one of the best-selling weeklies in the city.

With Felker as editor and Glaser as design director, _Esquire_ will have a totally new look starting with the February 14 issue. It will have a different size, binding, shape, length, and contents. It will also change its name to _Esquire Fortnightly_ and appear 26 times a year instead of 12.

"The new _Esquire_ will be ungimmicky, easy to understand," says Milton Glaser, taking a half-hour break from his numerous artistic projects. He is as animated as his enlarged signature, which glows from a custom-made neon lamp on the wall beside a Renaissance Madonna and a framed Islamic drawing.

The first thing you notice about Glaser is the colored handkerchief adorning his jacket pocket. Then you notice how relaxed he is, and how easily he smiles.

"The name of the game is to get an audience that identifies with the magazine and feels it's on their side. People buy a magazine because it's of considerable interest to them, not because they get a deal on the subscription. ... What you want to do is to find the right-size audience, made up of people who believe in the values that the magazine reflects."

The original _Esquire_, Glaser points out, helped to glamorize the rich, privileged man of the world -- the man who had arrived, who knew his place in the world, and whose greatest desire was to surround himself with the symbols of wealth, such as fancy cars and beautiful women.

Today, says Glaser, the American male no longer measures success by symbols alone. Rather, he aims for self-development, for the richness of life itself -- professional, personal, physical, intellectual and spiritual.

Clay Felker writes, in a yet-unreleased editorial in _Esquire_: "We will explore how a man can develop a more rewarding life with the women and children in his life. ... I see _Esquire_ magazine as a cheery, book filled, comfortable den, a place of wit and sparkling conversation, of goodwill and genial intelligence, where thoughtful discussions take place and wise conclusions are reached."

Milton Glaser is probably the best-qualified artist in America to redesign _Esquire_. Besides his success with _New York_ magazine, which began as a Sunday supplement to the old _New York Herald Tribune_, Glaser has designed _The Village Voice_, _Circus_ magazine, _New West_ and two of France's leading publications, _L'Express_ and _Paris-Match_.

Glaser's posters have sold in the millions. He has put on one-man exhibitions in the U.S., Europe and the Middle East. (He believes, in fact, that his work is more appreciated abroad than at home). He has designed everything from stores to toys to new typefaces.

He is a faculty member at both Cooper Union and the School of Visual Arts. He is responsible for all the graphic design and decorative programs at the World Trade Center. Two volumes of his works have been published -- _Milton Glaser: Graphic Arts_ and _The Milton Glaser Poster Book_.

In addition, he is a noted food critic. For the past 10 years he has co authored and constantly updated the best-selling Manhattan restaurant guide, _The Underground Gourmet_.

A native New Yorker, Milton Glaser has fond memories of his boyhood in the Bronx. He especially likes recalling an event that took place in 1933 -- the year that _Esquire_ was founded.

"When I was 4 years old, a cousin of mine said, 'Would you like to see a pigeon?' He had a paper bag with him and I thought he meant there was a pigeon in it. But then he took out a pencil and drew a picture of a bird. I was so astonished that you could invent reality that I never recovered from it. The only thing I wanted to do in my life was to make images."

Milton and his wife, Shirley, moved to the West Side last August. "I guess it was the opportunity to find the right physical space. I like the neighborhood because of the mix of working class, middle class, and upper class. ... That really is the richest thing the urban scene offers." The number of Westside restaurants listed in _The Underground Gourmet_ has sharply increased over the years. Among his favorite dining spots of all price ranges are Ying's on Columbus Avenue (at 70th St.), the Cafe des Artistes (1 West 67th St.), and the Harbin Inn (2637 Broadway).

Look in any New York subway station and you'll see a poster advertising the School of Visual Arts. It shows two identical men in a room. One is lying on a bed and the other is floating in the air. The caption reads: "Having a talent isn't worth much unless you know what to do with it." Milton Glaser, the designer of that poster, is a supreme example of a man with many talents who knows what to do with all of them.

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WESTSIDER PAUL GOLDBERGER Architecture critic for the _New York Times_

12-3-77

"What is architecture? It's the whole built environment. It's the outside of a building, the inside, the function; it serves social needs, physical needs. ... And a building has an obligation to work well with the buildings around it -- at least in the city."

The speaker is Paul Goldberger, architecture critic for the _New York Times_. His immaculate suit and tie, refined manners, dry wit, and somewhat formal way of speaking seem to mark him a Timesman even more than the carefully researched, colorfully written articles that have poured out of his pen in the last four years.

As a critic, Goldberger is accustomed to vocalizing opinions and facts in equal measure. His open-mindedness on architectural styles is demonstrated by his apartment, a lavish, ultramodernized suite of high ceilinged rooms inside one of the oldest buildings on Central Park West. The interview begins with a trick question: "What is the third tallest building in New York?" (Answer: the Empire State Building.) He fields it without cracking a smile.

"I guess the question is, do you consider the World Trade Center two buildings?" he says. "I guess it's like asking whether Grover Cleveland was two presidents or one because he served two non-consecutive terms. ... The World Trade Center was not necessary built functionally or very pleasing aesthetically. It was built as a kind of symbol of power by the Port Authority. I'm used to it now; human beings can adapt to anything. I even like going to the restaurant at the top and the restaurant at the bottom. It's the floors in the middle I don't like."

He points to the new Citicorp Center on East 53rd Street as an example of modern architecture at its best, and the mosquelike Cultural Center at Columbus Circle as an example of the opposite. "It's pretty horrible," says the critic, agreeing with a newspaper writer who recently labeled the Cultural Center one of the 12 ugliest buildings in Manhattan. "It's a very silly building; it's so obviously dumb. But it doesn't particularly bother me. It's almost innocent, it's so silly."

Lincoln Center, too, draws his barbs. "I find it very pretentious. Rather boring, really. It's a set of imitations of classical themes. The buildings are an unfortunate compromise because the builders were afraid to build something really modern, or to design something that really looked like a classical building. ... There's a feeling that they sort of want to be modern and sort of want to be classical and end up being a very unsatisfying compromise."