Journalists too easily charmed by power, access, and creamy risotto
When Robert Moses, the notorious New York master builder, wanted to cow the journalists who covered him, he knew he didn’t have to harangue or threaten his way to a favorable story.
When Robert Moses, the notorious New York master builder, wanted to cow the journalists who covered him, he knew he didn’t have to harangue or threaten his way to a favorable story.
In September of 2013, when it was clear Bill de Blasio was destined to become the mayor of New York and not a political footnote, there were two people ready to introduce him to the raucous crowd at his primary-night party.
Ten years ago today, Cory Lidle died. If you aren’t a diehard baseball fan, that sentence probably means nothing to you. Lidle was a pitcher like Jose Fernandez, the spectacular Miami Marlin who was killed in a boating accident last month, but his death has been long forgotten.
Covering a presidential debate can only sound glorious. You’re there, on the precipice of a world-historical moment, one of the chosen few with proximity to power. You get a swag bag and free lasagna and Pepsi from the food tent.
When Hurricane Sandy lashed the New York coastline and drowned neighborhoods like Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, there was some chatter about retreating from the waterfront.
On Tuesday, some of the city’s most prominent Democratic politicians celebrated the State Senate victory of Marisol Alcantara, a former Bernie Sanders delegate. Alcantara, the only woman who competed in a four-way Manhattan primary, is set to become the Senate’s lone Latina. Her patron, State Senator Adriano Espaillat, joyously dubbed this “the year of the woman.”
There are still people who want to believe the best about Anthony Weiner. Some of them are in his old congressional district, where I now reside, and they’ll still tell you about the bantamweight fighter for the middle class hustling to get their potholes paved or their beachfronts freed of litter.
There is little in this world I hate more than self-righteousness. I get enough of it in journalism and politics, where faux outrage is often the price of admission. The high horse is fun to ride. Sneering and finger-pointing usually wins you the day, or at least a retweet.
Donald Trump may be the celebrity presidential candidate, but the Democrats are the party of the celebrity. Demi Lovato, Alicia Keys, Paul Simon, Sarah Silverman, and Lenny Kravitz are just some of the stars who spoke or performed at the convention this week in Philadelphia.
Bill Clinton was supposed to be at St. Gabriel’s Episcopal Church in Brooklyn to talk about his wife. But in the fashion of a former president who remembers what it’s like to be in a good dogfight, he couldn’t resist taking on her nettlesome rival.