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Sunday, September 29, 2013 10:22:11 AM
NEWSWEEK ---The Magazine That Was
By Eleanor Clift
My final issue after 50 years at Newsweek.
By Eleanor Clift
“Those were the days, my friend, we thought they’d never end”—as the song from the 1960s goes. I can still remember the thrill of walking into the lobby at 444 Madison Avenue and seeing that week’s cover enlarged and illuminated on the wall. Outside, the Newsweek name was emblazoned high atop the building, visible from blocks away. I was 22 years old when I was hired as a secretary to the national affairs editor. I didn’t know much about journalism, but I had dropped out of college and I needed work. It was February 1963; opportunities for women were limited, and my goal was to find a job where what I typed would be interesting.
Clift circa 1967, four years into her tenure at Newsweek.
That requirement was fulfilled from the very first day, as I found myself thrust into a remarkable group of talented and often eccentric writers, researchers, and editors. We were all shell-shocked together when President Kennedy was assassinated in November that same year. I watched my boss pull together a story list, assign reporters and writers, and mobilize the vast machinery that a newsmagazine commanded. I was hooked forever.
In those days, few expenses were spared in the name of magazine journalism. For interviews, there was “Top of the Week,” the penthouse conference-room-lounge-restaurant where the magazine hosted newsmakers, everyone from Lauren Bacall to Robert F. Kennedy. Designed by I.M. Pei, it was spacious—with a fabulous view of the city, an area with couches and chairs where cocktails were served, and then a large dining table where the illuminati would gather. I wasn’t on the guest list then—few women were, even though the publisher was a woman—but I enjoyed some perks all the same. When we worked late Friday nights putting the magazine to bed—finishing well after midnight, sometimes not before three or four in the morning—there were rooms for us at the Waldorf-Astoria, just a couple blocks away. For a kid like me from Queens, this was pretty heady stuff. I could even charge my breakfast at the Waldorf’s coffee shop.
[...]
http://www.thedailybeast.com/newsweek/2013/09/27/the-magazine-that-was-eleanor-clift-on-her-50-years-at-newsweek.html
By Eleanor Clift
My final issue after 50 years at Newsweek.
By Eleanor Clift
“Those were the days, my friend, we thought they’d never end”—as the song from the 1960s goes. I can still remember the thrill of walking into the lobby at 444 Madison Avenue and seeing that week’s cover enlarged and illuminated on the wall. Outside, the Newsweek name was emblazoned high atop the building, visible from blocks away. I was 22 years old when I was hired as a secretary to the national affairs editor. I didn’t know much about journalism, but I had dropped out of college and I needed work. It was February 1963; opportunities for women were limited, and my goal was to find a job where what I typed would be interesting.
Clift circa 1967, four years into her tenure at Newsweek.
That requirement was fulfilled from the very first day, as I found myself thrust into a remarkable group of talented and often eccentric writers, researchers, and editors. We were all shell-shocked together when President Kennedy was assassinated in November that same year. I watched my boss pull together a story list, assign reporters and writers, and mobilize the vast machinery that a newsmagazine commanded. I was hooked forever.
In those days, few expenses were spared in the name of magazine journalism. For interviews, there was “Top of the Week,” the penthouse conference-room-lounge-restaurant where the magazine hosted newsmakers, everyone from Lauren Bacall to Robert F. Kennedy. Designed by I.M. Pei, it was spacious—with a fabulous view of the city, an area with couches and chairs where cocktails were served, and then a large dining table where the illuminati would gather. I wasn’t on the guest list then—few women were, even though the publisher was a woman—but I enjoyed some perks all the same. When we worked late Friday nights putting the magazine to bed—finishing well after midnight, sometimes not before three or four in the morning—there were rooms for us at the Waldorf-Astoria, just a couple blocks away. For a kid like me from Queens, this was pretty heady stuff. I could even charge my breakfast at the Waldorf’s coffee shop.
[...]
http://www.thedailybeast.com/newsweek/2013/09/27/the-magazine-that-was-eleanor-clift-on-her-50-years-at-newsweek.html
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