Howell Raines Knew

1. I no longer waste time reading Paul Krugman's op-ed columns in The New York Times. The former Enron consultant repeats his anti-Bush/-big-business fantasies twice a week, with an occasional holiday to Never-Never Land when the Princeton prof imagines, a la Sidney Blumenthal, that he's a victim of a conservative conspiracy. Vanity has no ceiling. n Besides, Andrew

Sullivan summarizes Krugman's ravings on his invaluable?if notoriously self-aggrandizing?website (andrewsullivan.com), and for that alone the prolific weblogger atones for his sins. The former New Republic/Times contributor does have one tic that's enormously grating: whether Sullivan's musing about friend or foe (with the exception of Michelangelo Signorile), he almost always refers to the person in familiar terms. So, we read about Tom Friedman, Hitch, Jake Weisberg, Jon Chait, Johnny Apple, Bob Reich, Bill McGowan, "Rummy," Tim Noah, Howie Kurtz and Doug Coupland. The onus of a Beltway insider, punishment enough I suppose.

Still, it's toss-off lines like this one that keep me checking Sullivan twice a day: "When I see Jimmy Carter sucking up to Fidel Castro, I realize once again why I wore a 'Reagan '80' button in my English high school. Yes, my teachers were appalled. They probably still are."

I've long advocated lifting the Cuba embargo and smothering Castro with American commerce, a strategic move that'd not only improve the quality of life on the island, but lead to a new generation of power there, leaving Fidel to stew about in an undisclosed location, listening to long-forgotten speeches and rereading correspondence with Che. President Bush can't undertake this mission until after his brother Jeb's reelection campaign in November, but, Karl Rove notwithstanding, he ought to normalize relations early next year, despite the Floridian consequences for the 2004 campaign. And then the Montreal Expos can move to Havana.

Nicholas D. Kristof, also a Times columnist, is next in line for the scrap heap. The Harvard/Oxford-educated writer earned his propaganda stripes with Howell Raines in the 2000 presidential contest with a series of front-page profiles of Bush and Al Gore. The stories about the then-Texas governor were so distorted it's possible even Paul Begala and Jonathan Alter blushed upon reading them. Kristof now covers the world for the Times. He's distinguished himself by making Thomas Friedman, the wishy-washy buddy of every leader in the Middle East, look like Charles Krauthammer in comparison.

On May 17, for example, Kristof confessed that at one time he believed Yasir Arafat was a fool for refusing to accept that give-away-the-store deal offered by Ehud Barak and Bill Clinton two years ago. But now, thanks to "various readers" (one assumes they would include James Zogby and any number of university professors), he's reevaluated his position, and thinks the Palestinian mass-murderer is misunderstood.

His column concludes: "All in all, it is fair to fault Mr. Arafat for lacking the courage to strike a deal in Taba; for being a maddening, vacillating and passive negotiator; for condoning violence that unseated the best Israeli peace partner the Palestinians could have had. But the common view in the West that Mr. Arafat flatly rejected a reasonable peace deal, and that it is thus pointless to attempt a strategy of negotiation, is a myth."

I'm sure the residents of Netanya would agree.

Kristof, born in 1959 (growing up "on a cherry farm near Yamhill, Oregon," according to his Times bio), and therefore a graduate of colleges whose curriculum requirements were rather loose, is what most commoners would call a sucker. This is speculation, but after reading Kristof's "We Are the World" columns since Sept. 11, I'll bet his favorite pop groups in the 70s were Bread, America and Three Dog Night.

Arafat, who's correctly considered irrelevant not only by Ariel Sharon but also by a growing number of his subjects, is capable of little more than posing as a martyr for a recent Time cover and allowing arrested criminals to slip out the back door of jails. The day after Kristof's endorsement of Arafat as a worthy negotiator, the aging thug reneged on a promise to clean up his stables.

According to John Kifner's May 18 Times dispatch: "Only hours after two of his top aides said he was ready to run for election within six months, Yasir Arafat said today that Palestinians could not hold elections until Israeli forces pulled back from the West Bank and Gaza Strip. Mr. Arafat's brief remarks cast some confusion on the drive for reform in his Palestinian Authority, which has increasingly been viewed by many Palestinians as inefficient, corrupt and autocratic."

While prompt execution ought to be Arafat's fate, he'd be a fortunate man indeed if a one-way ticket to Baghdad, Saudi Arabia or Paris were his reward for causing so much destruction and death, not only for the Israelis but his own lemmings as well.

2. A generation ago, during that miraculous drought of New York Yankees' world championships from 1963 until 1977 (book-ended by Series losses in '64 and '76), when the likes of Roger Repoz, Horace Clarke and Tom Tresh played out meaningless seasons in the Bronx, ballpark giveaways were first introduced at Yankee Stadium. These come-ons are ubiquitous today, even with successful franchises, but back then, I believe, it was Bat Day that started off the marketing practice. And unlike the freebies today?crummy one-size-fits-all caps, bobble-head dolls, team calendars and other souvenirs that keep Chinese factory workers on the shift round the clock?the bat was a solid perk, suitable for pick-up games in the neighborhood.

The kids and I cringed while watching Roger Clemens pitch another gem on Sunday afternoon, shutting down the Twins 3-0 with 13 strikeouts, and while that was no fun at all my sons were tickled at receiving Derek Jeter replica bats. It was a friendly crowd: an amiable woman seated next to Junior engaged him and MUGGER III in conversation about The Simpsons and SpongeBob, while I blabbed with two rabid Yanks fans in the row ahead of us.

One of the guys cracked me up when Jorge Posada came to the plate by yelling, "Georgie's got the juice!" When the clutch hitter whiffed, I leaned forward and said, "Yep, there's a glob of juice right now in the catcher's mitt." That didn't go over too well?not to mention the boys wearing their Red Sox hats and warmup jackets?but as the innings progressed and we chatted more about this season, the dump that's called Shea Stadium and Hall of Fame candidates, the glacier melted and we got along like Orrin Hatch and Teddy Kennedy.

This fellow was at the Stadium last Friday night, in the sleet and rain, and was one of the few spectators who remained till the bottom of the 14th when Jason Giambi?in his breakout moment as a Yankee?hit a grand-slammer to win the game.

Meanwhile, the Bosox took two of three from the Mariners last weekend, maintaining a two-game lead over New York and heightening the anticipation for their showdown this weekend at Fenway Park. Ever the pessimist, I'd take a split in the four contests. Boston journalists, however, giddy with the new Sox ownership, current Major League-leading record and the magnificent play of Johnny Damon, Pedro, Shea Hillenbrand, Brian Daubach and Rey Sanchez, to name just a few, are getting way ahead of themselves.

It's not even Memorial Day. Still, Globe metro columnist Brian McGrory, a regional laughingstock, is already waiting on line for World Series tickets; and, get this, he has mixed feelings about it.

Last Friday he wrote: "I want them to win more than anything else. I think. Something nags, and here it is: What happens when we've finally won it all? Of course, the city would grind to a halt. Grown men would cry and drink champagne. We'd come together through a fortuitous bond the likes of which we'd never known. The Patriots proved the wonderfully mysterious impact of sports on a collective psyche. Multiply that by 10 with the Red Sox.

"But then what? Do we risk becoming another St. Louis, Oakland or Cleveland, a city whose best sports days are behind them, a place that is only trying to recapture the glory it's already known? Do we become just another line in a baseball encyclopedia: 2002 Champions, Boston Red Sox, squeezed between Arizona in 2001 and maybe the Colorado Rockies in 2003?"

On the off-chance the Sox win the Series this fall (and I agree it's their best shot since '86)?unless a strike wipes out the postseason?let McGrory cry in his mug of Sam Adams beer. I'll be in a rhapsodic trance for a week and thinking repeat?dynasty!?for 2003.

3. It's galling enough that The New York Times?along with other elite media institutions?has won a temporary victory on the bogus issue of campaign finance reform. But the paper?which stands to gain advertising and even more political clout if the hole-ridden legislation survives legal battles?isn't satisfied. In a May 16 editorial, "Campaign Reform's Slow Arrival," the insulated powerbrokers once again insult readers by promoting their own narrow agenda on behalf of this country's citizens.

The writer began: "Cockeyed optimists who were hoping that the nation's new campaign finance reform law would remove the influence of big-money donors overnight should have been brought down to earth on Tuesday when President Bush played host at a record-breaking $30 million fund-raiser. The reforms, alas, do not even take effect until after November?but it would be nice if some party decided to abide by their spirit this election cycle... At the president's fund-raiser, Republicans admitted that such galas would soon be obsolete. Very few Americans will be sorry to see them go."

Says who?

The vast majority of Americans weren't even aware of the GOP fundraiser, and are ignorant of the similar bucks-raking events that Democrats hold, mostly because they're too busy with work, family and recreation. That the Times perpetuates the myth that voters are in a snit over "soft money" is?considering its anti-Israel bias and opposition to toppling Saddam Hussein?not currently the worst of its excesses. But since the daily continues to publish editorials, columns and "news" stories on the subject, it's worth noting, once again, that just as in the 2000 presidential campaign, in every major poll taken today citizens rank campaign finance "reform" near the bottom of issues they're concerned about.

While the Four Knights in Congress?John McCain, Russell Feingold, Martin Meehan and Christopher Shays?are, in the elite media's eyes, candidates for an update of Theodore Sorensen's, oops, I mean John F. Kennedy's Profiles in Courage, some questions ought to be asked of these First Amendment busters. Why, for example, if "reform" was so necessary, wasn't the legislation enacted immediately so it would take effect before the midterm elections?

On this point, I agree with the Times. However, given the daily's crusade, doesn't it seem odd, just for the sake of consistency, that the bill's sponsors and proponents (like Dick Gephardt and Tom Daschle) would be spared criticism for postponing the new law until November?

Silly me. Without the benefit of "soft money" and advocacy advertising, the Democrats would have a much harder time in their attempt to recapture the House and retain their slim Senate majority. And, given the GOP's far superior ability to collect small, "hard money" donations, Daschle and Terry McAuliffe need the time to rejigger the entire concept of donation shakedowns.

When the moon is full, however, the Times can surprise readers who justifiably consider the paper an integral part of the Democratic National Committee. On May 13, an editorial that proposed mild tort reform threw me for such a loop that I almost started rooting for the Yankees.

Could the following words be code for the Times' disapproval of former trial lawyer John Edwards, the first-term North Carolina senator who's been shameless in seeking the 2004 Democratic presidential nomination? Probably not, but the Times can on occasion deviate from the monolithic liberal dogma it preaches. I still can't figure out what the beef is with Sen. Robert Torricelli?although I suspect he's the "wrong" kind of Italian politician?and the paper's endorsement of Republican Robert Franks over Jon Corzine in the 2000 New Jersey Senate election remains a mystery. Yes, Corzine's self-financed campaign rubbed the not-as-wealthy Times owners the wrong way, but he's still the kind of paleoliberal who's always welcome on 43rd St.

Anyway, the editorial, which even had a smart title?"Slip, Fall, Collect"?began: "As the city struggles to close a $5 billion budget gap without cutting into essential services, one area of spending makes a particularly tempting target: the half-billion dollars the city paid out last year to people who sued it... Civil lawsuits are an important part of America's justice system, and every year we hear of cases in which innocent people are cruelly harmed by the city's incompetence or neglect and deserve top-dollar compensation. But when plaintiffs and plaintiffs' lawyers win huge damage awards against a city that was only minimally involved in creating the conditions that caused an accident, they make everyone else the losers."

4. The New York Observer, having forfeited its Upper East Side cachet in recent years, in addition to mounting staff defections and an apparent loss of interest on the part of its owner Arthur Carter, gets goofier week by week. The loss of marquee columnist Michael M. Thomas last month was a huge blow; retaining Joe Conason and Nicholas von Hoffman just serves as a reminder that the paper is a 90s artifact. There are a handful of writers who still shine: Terry Golway, Jason Gay and George Gurley, the last strangely under-utilized by longtime editor Peter Kaplan.

A few weeks ago, Gurley wrote a fine short for "New York World" about actress Rachel Miner, the very young ex-wife of Macaulay Culkin. He had zero success in persuading Miner to speak about the former child movie star, but in working around that predicament came up with lots of laughs.

He writes: "What did Ms. Miner do to escape reality? 'I love to bake. There's something very ritualistic about it, kind of magic.'

"Oh, brother. Then she told me about helping some homeless man the other day. I told her I needed a story. 'I have so many!' she said. (Translation: But none for you!)

"Maybe I was the problem. When I was Ms. Miner's age, I was a total fuck-up playing Frisbee, drinking, getting fired from dishwashing jobs. She, on the other hand, was a mature adult. She was in a Woody Allen movie at age 10. Starred in The Diary of Anne Frank on Broadway. Married at 17, divorced at 19. Photographers hid in the bushes all the time, harassed her. She laughed it off. People wrote mean things. At 19, I was afraid to do a semester abroad in France."

Gurley concludes: "So maybe Rachel Miner isn't the best interview. But she's a very fine actress and a good human, and what more can we ask of her? Well, could she say something about Macaulay Culkin?

"She did. It was a good quote."

On the other hand, the Observer's editorials are all over map. Last week the paper suggested the dumbest idea I've yet read to close the city's budget shortfall. I'm against a revival of the commuter tax, not to mention Mayor Bloomberg's regressive, and massive, hike on cigarette taxes, but sympathy for those measures, no matter how shortsighted, is not uncommon.

No, the real corker is the Observer's notion of charging tourists $150 when they come to New York. How such a tax might be collected isn't explained, nor is the distinction between a family from Japan, say, here for a week, or a person taking an hour-long train ride from New Jersey or Long Island to spend a day in the city.

Here's the rationale: "The commuter tax alone won't solve Mr. Bloomberg's dilemma. He has to find other sources of revenue. Here's one: a tourism tax of $150 per visitor. When tourists come to New York, they fall under the protection of our Police and Fire Departments; why shouldn't they pay a small fee for the privilege of using city services? Thirty-two million tourists flock to New York every year, and the city goes to great expense to make sure they have a safe holiday. Asking them to pay $150 hardly seems unreasonable."

Obviously, such a daft proposal would never be taken seriously by Bloomberg and would raise howls from the restaurateurs, retailers, theater and club owners and other small businesses that rely on tourists for their very existence. The editorial is so vague that it doesn't bother to address the labyrinth of questions it brings up; the writer simply believes a trifling $150 tax wouldn't keep tourists away.

Sure. What about the college student visiting a friend in the Village, who sleeps on the floor, eats cheap takeout and maybe sees a show at Irving Plaza? Or the thousands upon thousands of nonresidents who flock to Yankee Stadium for a four-hour period: would they be expected to fork over $150 for the privilege of crossing the Observer's velvet rope and then spending more dough to line George Steinbrenner's pockets?

Is morale so low at the Observer that editorials are now written during happy hour?

 

May 20

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