There at the Creation (Almost )

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The publication of “The Weekly Standard, A Reader: 1995-2005” (Harper Collins, 560 pages, $27.95), on the occasion of its 10th anniversary, makes me a bit nostalgic. I worked at the Weekly Standard for two years after I graduated from college. My stay began in the fall of 1996 – roughly one year after the magazine’s launch – and I didn’t realize then how new it still was for everyone else.


My journalism experience had consisted of editing a campus conservative magazine. Because of that role, I landed a one-year internship, then stayed a second year as a reporter before moving to New York City. Wide-eyed and starstruck, I soaked in everything.


I quickly gleaned that my overexcited demeanor was totally uncool. These people were wickedly smart and outrageously funny. Yet the mood of the place seemed somewhat incongruous to me. This was a serious magazine, run by powerful and influential journalists. But the senior staff spent a large part of their day milling about, laughing, and gossiping. It’s hard to overstate how much fun they seemed to be having.


What I see now is that there is enormous value in shooting the breeze together, especially when the editors are at the center of it. During the course of those water-cooler confabs and mid-hallway crack-ups, the spirit of the magazine was refined. Through the talents of its writers and editors, that voice was translated directly into print.


The magazine was, and remains, sharp, superbly written, and irreverent because the people are sharp, superb thinkers who love to take the piss out of everything. It reads like an ongoing discussion because the staff is having one.


In addition to the impromptu chats, there were also twice-weekly staff meetings, at which everyone gathered. Sometimes these were perfunctory, but more often they were hilarious. Like comedians, staff members played off each other, compete for laughs, and make fun of each other. In between chuckling over the usual subjects -absurd congressmen, Bill Clinton, the New York Times – they would laugh at themselves and at each other.


I left those meetings with my cheeks hurting from laughing so hard.


My favorite moment took place sometime in November 1996. David Brooks had been the subject of a recent profile and posed for a photo in the New York Times Magazine. He later was interviewed by National Journal and mentioned that he was unhappy that he had to fold his arms over his chest in the photo; he looked surly, he thought. The National Journal reporter then called the photographer, Joseph Pluchino, who was quoted as saying: “I just did it because he is a short little guy, and with his arms hanging low, he looks stumpy.”


When Mr. Brooks walked into the office, Mr. Kristol broke into hysterics. Mr. Brooks then started loping around, dragging his arms low, and making Neanderthal sounds. This carried on until they were both crying with laughter. Serious conservatism, be damned. It was like watching two 13-year-old boys with a Whoopie cushion.


Of course, there were many serious discussions. To be a part of these you had to have read everything and talked to everyone. Which was why, when they weren’t standing around joking, the editors and writers were on the phone or reading.


Fred Barnes, for whom I worked directly, had every phone number he needed in his head or in a little blue pocket-sized book. He was easy to work for because he seemed a totally self-sufficient being. (Except when he couldn’t find something.) As a former newspaperman, he could write faster than most people can read. And he liked articles that had “the quality of doneness.” It was a phrase he used a lot, as Mr. Kristol confirms here in the foreword to the reader.


Among the essays in the current book, there are a few I remember from my tenure. Matt Labash’s “At the Red Lobster with Tammy Faye” had everyone in stitches. David Gelernter’s tribute to Dorothy Lamour made an impression on me at the time. The big issues during my day – the 1996 election and the Monica Lewinsky scandal (which was like manna from heaven) -are not overly represented, perhaps for good reason. The book’s focus on more recent foreign-policy essays reflects more accurately why the magazine exists.


For a young person just starting out, the Standard was a fine place to learn about writing. I am forever grateful for the patient lessons that my editor, Claudia Winkler, had to share. John Podhoretz gave me several assignments and, more importantly, encouragement. And just being around writers you admire can be enlightening. One day, Andrew Ferguson was walking around the office repeating the words “jackal-like alacrity,” which he had read in a story published elsewhere. He was fascinated by the way the words sounded together.


This made me realize something that I should have understood already. Stringing words into sentences wasn’t enough. They have to sound good, too. Better choices would make your writing better. (Eureka.)


I once asked Mr. Brooks to read a freelance book review of mine. He said it read smoothly, then pointed to one thing: “That sentence is particularly elegant.” In a 400-word book review, I had linked 10 words together that met with Brooksian approval. I was delighted to have finally produced a specific example of what these guys meant when they said that something was elegantly written.


And as their collection of essays shows, they knew what they were talking about.


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