Press Lord 2.0
DESPITE THEIR CYNICISM, most of the journalists welcomed Tierney. He anticipated their fears and dismantled them one by one. Early on, he reminded them that a few of the losing bidders were Visigoths, especially the Canadian group, which later bought the Akron Beacon Journal and slashed 25 percent of newsroom jobs. “We did not model in cuts to buy this business,” Tierney said at a press conference on Day One. “We didn’t buy it to cut it.” (Tierney now denies saying this, despite the fact that we have an audiotape of him saying it. In fact, he now says he did model in cuts; whatever you might say about the Visigoths, at least they were honest about wanting to make cuts.) Later, in a private staff meeting, Tierney referred specifically to the Scary Canadians: “I don’t want to come in here and pick a fight. Maybe if I was looking at a newspaper in Toronto.” He also told the Newspaper Guild — the union representing some 900 journalists, ad reps and circulation employees at both papers — about his working-class mother having belonged to her restaurant-workers union. Solidarity.
But the thing that really got the journalists was when Tierney said, “I really do believe, from the bottom of my heart, that the next great era of Philadelphia journalism begins today.” The key word was “great.” The Inky had some great journalists, but it wasn’t great. Day to day, the Inky sucked. It even sucked in comparison to the Daily News, where years of draconian staff cuts had forced the DN’s editors to concentrate on its core strengths. The Inky’s staffers knew they were putting out an inferior product. And it hurt them.
See, most journalists are secret sentimentalists, like cops. Journalists are taught in j-schools that their profession is special and important: the first draft of history, democracy’s bulwark against tyranny. Then, if they’re lucky, they go to work at these metro dailies, these citadels designed to serve and protect the traditional values of journalism by teaching a culture of collective sacrifice for the Greater Good. Many journalists are happy to sacrifice — to risk their lives in Iraq (like several young Inky reporters), or to have a Kalashnikov pointed at their head by a Russian soldier (photographer Eric Mencher), or to board a rickety plane in the Balkans while suffering through a head cold, thereby developing an incurable inner-ear condition that causes a recurring clicking sound every four or five seconds (metro columnist Daniel Rubin) — because they believe that “We’re a different kind of business,” in Rubin’s words. Even the lazy journos at the Inky, the ones who never file stories and phone in the ones they do, believe they’re part of something virtuous. Journalists need to believe. They need a leader who lifts their specific morale. If morale goes, the gears grind and squeal.
That’s why journalists were so encouraged last fall when Tierney hired Bill Marimow as their new editor, replacing Amanda Bennett, who was such a non-presence in the newsroom that journalists kept track of how often the lights in her office, keyed to motion detectors, clicked off. Marimow was different: a native Philly kid, a meat-and-potatoes newsman. Last August, after going to see Invincible — the Vince Papale bio-pic — Marimow wrote Tierney a letter. The two hit it off. On a scale of one to 10, Marimow says, his relationship with Tierney is a 10. “I like him,” says Marimow. “I respect him. I think he’s a man of enormous energy and creativity and an ineradicable can-do spirit.” Marimow says he wants the Inky to become “a shining beacon to a lot of other papers who are battered down.”
Marimow rolled up his sleeves; journalists finally had their leader. Tierney, though, never believed the Inky’s weakness was a lack of newsroom leadership. It was a lack of the right incentives. Tierney believed the Inky hadn’t incentivized its reporters to take advantage of the New World.
In the New World, where so many more outlets are selling content than ever before, on more electronic devices than ever before, the most precious commodity is mere exposure. Eyeballs. Insofar as journalists have value, it’s because they represent brands that can be leveraged across multiple platforms: TV, the Internet, books, screenplays.
Tierney began to envision his ideal journalist. She was entrepreneurial, of course. She worked cheap, at first. ("It’s really expensive to have all these Columbia Journalism folks running around,” Tierney said in October, just prior to leaving for New York to give a speech at — yep — the Columbia School of Journalism.) She did it for love, not money. She was comfortable on television. She was aggressive, ambitious. She knew what a blog was. She was willing to shoot digital videos for Philly.com. She exuded “bold colors” that “pop.” Not that she was all flash and no substance. In fact, she was more than likely to do excellent work respected by her peers — she was an investigative whiz, maybe, or a sharp columnist who wrote with voice and flair. But the lack of those qualities wouldn’t be a deal-killer.
Look at Stephen A. Smith. Smith is the consummate New World journo-brand. He’s an Inquirer sports columnist, but only nominally. These days, he spends most of his time dispensing one-liners on ESPN. Other Inky reporters despise Smith, even if some would no doubt trade their self-respect for his money; they think he does shitty work. When I suggested this to Bill Marimow, Marimow just said, “I haven’t met Stephen A. Smith. I don’t want to be quoted on Stephen A. Smith.” But Tierney loves Stephen A. Smith. “I think it’s great Stephen A. Smith does [TV],” Tierney told me. “And in the new environment, I’d like to help the next Stephen A. Smith get that kind of a gig.”
Tierney’s idea is only radical for Philadelphia. The broader industry has already embraced the journalist-as-brand concept — look at how books are promoted, or how Time magazine is laying off its non-bylined staffers while hiring more columnists, or how the leaders of the new online/print venture The Politico were able to poach top, name-brand journalists by promising to make them new-media stars. Tierney only wants to speed up the process. He wants to dynamite the levees, let the market rush in. Journos will sink or swim. Looking forward, Tierney wants his company to be a destination for young talent, but his recruiting pitch is thoroughly New World: Don’t come to Philly because we do amazing journalism like the New York Times; come because we’ll help you sell a book proposal, start a weblog, get on TV. Tierney wants a journalist who understands that PMH won’t “hold me back,” in his own words. Citizen Kane as Personal Life Coach.
Originally published in Philadelphia Magazine, April 2007.
