Subject: The Instant-News Age Leaves Time Magazine Searching for a Mission Date: Published: 5/12/93 (340 lines) Source: Wall Street Journal. Copyright Dow Jones & Co. Inc. [Note: This article has nothing explicitly to do with AIDS, but has been included because the magazine is important in reporting on AIDS stories. -- sysop] At a Crossroads: The Instant-News Age Leaves Time Magazine Searching for a Mission --- Impact Waned in Muller Era; Can New Editor Restore Weekly's Days of Glory? --- `It's the Reporting, Stupid' ---- By Patrick M. Reilly Staff Reporter of The Wall Street Journal When Bill Clinton took a commanding lead in the polls over George Bush a month before last November's election, Time magazine staffers proposed a major story on how Mr. Clinton might govern. Reporting assignments were doled out, files gathered and cover headlines debated. But as the election drew near, Time editors never felt the week was right to run the story. Rival Newsweek thought otherwise. Using virtually the same words Time editors had debated, Newsweek's Oct. 26 cover read: "President Clinton? How He Would Govern." Time's cover that week: a skull illustrating findings from the unearthing of a frozen prehistoric man -- a discovery made a year before and reported in the press at the time. As Time celebrates its 70th anniversary this year, the magazine is finding it harder than ever to live up to its catchy slogan: "If it's important to you, you'll find it in Time." Since its founding by Henry Luce in 1923, perhaps no other publication has been so dominant in the American imagination, society and politics. Time monitored America's heartbeat before television, and has marked every milestone from the rise of Hitler to the emergence of the personal computer. But the past few years have been difficult. Despite a series of editorial changes, exhaustive focus-group studies and a sweeping redesign last year, the magazine continues to grope for its mission in the age of 24-hour-a-day electronic news. In Time's effort to remain relevant to a generation brought up to watch television, some critics say it has mistakenly abandoned the hard-charging news role that made it great. "Time was once the voice of the country, but the redesign was a great mistake, maybe a disastrous mistake," contends Roger Rosenblatt, a senior writer at Time in the 1980s. "They should have stuck to their primary business of giving readers a comprehensive view of the news. Today, it's almost an anti-newsmagazine." Gene Roberts, professor of journalism at the University of Maryland and former award-winning editor of the Philadelphia Inquirer, says Time is "groping for a mission and a role." "Once, Time had a real sense of what it was and was trying to do," he says. Now, "I am not sure what it is that they see themselves doing that is essential." Other news weeklies have struggled to find their place in the era of electronic media, but nowhere have the problems been more acutely felt than at Time. "We had become largely irrelevant in journalistic and political communities in this country," says Stanley Cloud, until recently Time's Washington bureau chief, and now a contributing editor. "We weren't read as we used to be by decision makers, as often and with as much care. We are trying to correct it." Last November, Jason McManus, editor in chief of the Time Inc. magazine group, removed managing editor Henry Muller, who had been in his job since 1987 and who redesigned the magazine in 1992. Mr. Muller was promoted to editorial director under Mr. McManus, a move that surprised even Mr. Muller. "I was having a good time at Time," he says. "I would have known what to do with the magazine for several years and been happy to do it." Mr. McManus says that it was his decision alone to name a new top editor at Time, and that he moved Mr. Muller to prepare for succession in corporate editorial positions. But many company insiders and editors believe the move was the result of mounting concern over Time's direction and was endorsed by Time Warner Inc. 's new chief executive, Gerald R. Levin, a veteran of Time prior to its 1989 merger with Warner Communications Inc. Mr. Levin declines to comment. Mr. Muller denies that his transfer indicates the company was dissatisfied with his performance. "Time Warner doesn't answer failure with promotions," he says. "I wouldn't be here if there was any perception of failure at Time." Time's new chief, James Gaines, is already shaking things up. As the 13th managing editor in Time's history, Mr. Gaines is the first never to have worked there -- and to have worked at Washington Post Co. 's Newsweek -- which he views as a distinct advantage. "I have a fresh view," he says. "I have no preconceived notion about how to do things." In the 1980s he ran Time's celebrity-driven People, and had impressed superiors with a weekly edition of Life published during the Persian Gulf War. In his first address to staffers in January, Mr. Gaines called for a return to the strengths of Time's past: getting "better facts, stories before the competition gets them, and detailed, illustrative reporting," one staffer recalls. Mr. Gaines says, "I want the magazine to be something people can't wait to read." He has his work cut out for him. Since the merger, the magazine has slipped in importance next to Time Warner's massive cable, record and movie operations. That diminished stature has been painfully clear inside Time. Morale reached a low in September 1991 when Time bore the brunt of staff reductions at the magazine group, losing 39 positions, including 19 correspondents. More recently, Time's journalistic reputation has taken a shellacking. In March, readers of the American Journalism Review, mostly journalists, were asked to vote for the "best magazine coverage of the 1992 presidential campaign." Newsweek was the hands-down winner, a repeat performance from 1988. Time came in third in a field of three, after U. S. News & World Report. Then in April, Newsweek won two National Magazine Awards -- one of them for "general excellence" among the country's largest magazines. Time, which last won a National Magazine Award in 1986, was not nominated in any category. Meanwhile, Time has been twopunched by an advertising recession. Though it still commands among the industry's highest ad rates, its net profits, once the highest in the Time Inc. stable of magazines, fell from about $52 million in 1989 to $29 million in 1991, recovering modestly in 1992. People is now the profit leader at Time Warner's magazine group, which also includes Sports Illustrated, Life, Fortune and Money. Though Time says its gross ad revenue and profit per ad page are still the highest of the three news weeklies, its total ad pages slipped in 1992 for the third straight year; once the leader in the category, Time ranked third. Through the second issue of May, Time was down 10% in ad pages, according to Media Industry Newsletter. Newsweek and U. S. News had increases. Time attributes the dip to its higher ad rates and what it claims is rampant rate cutting by rivals. Time's circulation still leads the pack at about 4.2 million, far ahead of Newsweek and U. S. News, which have been steady at about 3.2 million and 2.3 million, respectively, for the past five years. Still, Time's circulation is down from 4.6 million in the late 1980s, when it was expensively pumped up by discounted offers and electronic giveaways, such as telephones. Circulation improved modestly in the second half of 1992, yet newsstand sales fell slightly despite the new redesign. That redesign was the culmination of sweeping changes Mr. Muller began when he took over in 1987, in the midst of an inexorable shift in the balance of power in the media world. On television, Cable News Network was turning into an essential, world-wide media powerhouse. "Time had to have something to offer millions of readers who could turn on the TV and see events occur around the world," says Mr. Muller. Challenges to Time and the news weeklies were also coming from the print media. USA Today was raising the standard for how color and graphics could help tell stories -- traditional magazine strengths. The publishing world was exploding with newmagazines keyed to readers' special interests. Even big-city daily newspapers, facing declining readership, were reinventing themselves, stressing analysis and stronger writing. The result was the news weeklies spent much of the past decade in fits of soul-searching, fearful they could become obsolete unless they made changes. At U. S. News & World Report, chairman and editor-in-chief Mortimer Zuckerman refocused the magazine on service, news-you-can-use journalism, increased its political and business coverage and played down stories on social trends and entertainment. In 1992, it carried 160 more pages of hard news than Time, according to Hall's Magazine Reports. At Newsweek, editor-in-chief Richard M. Smith introduced his own successful redesign, adding a simpler organization of six major news sections and increasing the use of graphics. The magazine added unconventional news sections such as Health, Family and, more recently, Aging. It juiced up its Periscope page with newsy gossip and short, funny takes on people in the news. And it steered clear of ponderous big-theme stories, instead sticking close to the previous week's big story. Undergirding its decisions was a 1989 independent study of its future, which showed, Mr. Smith says, that readers "wanted news that went beyond TV, and valued our national news and analysis." At Time, Mr. Muller set about making fundamental changes soon after his arrival. He began to dismantle Time's decades-old system of correspondents filing copy from bureaus to be rewritten in New York. Instead, he pushed for reporters to write from the field, feeling their writing would carry more immediacy. In 1988, sounding a note of urgency, he launched a revamp of the magazine. "We have to reinvent Time, to dare something more radical than the periodic renovations of Time through the decades," Mr. Muller said in a press release. Unveiling what he called a "1990s approach to newsmagazine journalism," he introduced sections such as Travel and Interview and a more dramatic combination of photos and text for big stories. More important, he tinkered with the traditional approach to news. The main text of Time's stories, he said, "will not be an obligatory regurgitation of familiar material. The stories will devote more space to ideas, to analysis; they can have a point of view...." Mr. Muller's hallmark would be Time's attraction to pursuing broad themes and trends, and sometimes cosmic questions, all in pursuit of his favorite dictum, that Time should "go beyond the news." How far beyond? A cover on "Evil" in 1991 was an essay on the nature of evil in world affairs. "What Does Science Tell Us About God?" explored signs of a divine role in the creation of the universe. Even when it reported important news, Time sometimes seemed off the news of the moment. The week of Hurricane Andrew, one of the biggest domestic stories of 1992, Time featured on its cover the famine in sub-Saharan Africa. Time gave the U. S. disaster relatively scant coverage in eight paragraphs, while Newsweek ran a dramatic and lengthy cover story. John Stacks, Time's deputy managing editor, says Andrew had already been heavily covered by the media, and Time decided to go big with the original reporting and photography on Africa. At Newsweek, such decisions were seen as proof of its hegemony in the news-weekly field. In a rah-rah memo to editorial and sales staff a week after the hurricane, editor-in-chief Mr. Smith gleefully stoked the fires of the cross-town rivalry: "In the last few months, I've resisted the easy argument that Newsweek is the only true newsmagazine. On the basis of this week's evidence, that resistance is weakening. I'm proud that we know what our role is. . . ." Mr. Muller's high-minded editorial philosophy did not sit well with Time's business side. By the late 1980s, there was real concern his approach was off the mark, sacrificing Time's leadership position to an increasingly aggressive Newsweek. There were signs of weakness: Time's internal research showed the median age of its subscribers rising steadily through the 1980s, to about 40 today. The magazine wasn't attracting enough younger readers. The cost of getting and keeping subscribers was also soaring. Robert Miller, world-wide publisher of Time in the late 1980s and currently president of Time Inc. Ventures, was so concerned that he hired outside consultants. After months of phone surveys and focus groups, the research results seemed to contradict Mr. Muller's approach of ideas and analysis over simple reporting. The studies showed readers wanted "hard news-economic, political, and international news," Mr. Miller says. "It was collectively management's interpretation that there should be a rededication and focus on that. It actually gave us confidence that Time could be Time, concentrating on what it did best." By late 1989, Mr. Miller had cut back Time's towering costs by lowering the costly-to-maintain circulation level from 4.6 million to 4 million. But he was also lobbying hard for editorial changes. While Mr. Miller declines to comment on Mr. Muller's work, internally he was harshly critical, colleagues say. "The attack on Henry Muller was coming from the business side, and the business side was right," says one of Time Inc. 's top editors. "The problem was the magazine was off the news, not sharp, not crisp." Walter Shapiro, a former Time senior writer who is now Esquire's White House correspondent and still contributes to Time, recalls that when he left Newsweek for Time in 1987 he was astonished by how far in advance Time decided what was news. At Newsweek, top editors regularly ripped up story lists from Monday or Tuesday and scattered writers to cover late-breaking stories. At Time, Mr. Shapiro says, "the Monday or Tuesday story list didn't change much as the week went on." Some major political stories were approved by editors 10 days in advance. "The Newsweek approach can be taken to ridiculous degrees," Mr. Shapiro says. "But of the two, it's certainly better for a newsmagazine to be willing to make enormous changes at the last minute than be locked in concrete." By late 1990, urged on by Mr. Miller, Mr. McManus, the Time Inc. editor in chief, had convened an in-house committee of writers and editors to investigate the future of Time and of the news-weekly idea itself. The report of the task force was never released, not even internally, but insiders say it hammered at the structural problems of Time. "It said Time takes itself too seriously, it needs less pontificating, and wasn't reaching an audience that found it compelling or of urgency or import," says one executive. While admitting the task force was critical of some of his innovations, Mr. Muller says that "it didn't say turn back the clock, turn Time into a rewrite magazine." The findings "were an endorsement of where we were already heading," he adds. As the commission was still meeting in early 1991, Mr. Muller was moving separately on his own redesign plan. By the time the commission readied its report at midyear, Mr. Muller had established an off-site "safe house" on Manhattan's Upper East Side where design work was done, and by August 1991 he showed a prototype to Mr. McManus. Gone was the weekly department format Time invented-World, Nation, Religion and so on. Instead, Mr. Muller proposed three distinct sections: a tight recap of the week's news at the front of the book, followed by a "well" of feature stories, and finally an arts and reviews section. Mr. Muller believed the design would permit Time to give stories the space they needed rather than dicing up news into confining departments. There was a distinct feeling among some others, though, that the magazine was abandoning its franchise, that the new three-section Time was too similar to other feature magazines. Mr. Shapiro contends the redesign was just part of the problem. "The lack of imagination in presenting the magazine is far more important," he says. "Time would have been a boring magazine in 1991 and 1992 no matter what it looked like." Mr. Muller defends the direction the magazine took under him -- including its 1992 presidential campaign coverage and the failure to run the planned cover on how Mr. Clinton would govern. He says that the story "wasn't good enough to run" and that Time did a much better job with a post-election story. Top magazine editors judging the national awards took a different view: They honored Newsweek in the "single-topic issue" category for its special election issue entitled "How He Won: The Untold Story of Bill Clinton's Triumph." Yet the Time cover story on the prehistoric man that ran the week Newsweek went with the Clinton cover sold extremely well. Newsstand sales were about 375,000 copies, well above the average of about 200,000. Newsweek also did well by sticking to politics. Newsstand sales of the Clinton cover were about 210,000 copies, compared with an average of about 180,000. But while newsstand sales are watched closely by all magazines, they represent less than 10% of circulation at Newsweek and Time. So far, Mr. Muller's successor, Mr. Gaines, is enforcing Time's new dictum of better, more thorough reporting. Time staffers were amazed to learn that Mr. Gaines reads virtually all files as they come in from correspondents to check the development of stories as the week progresses. Mr. Gaines says that in Time's previous efforts to go beyond last week's news, "we did substitute analysis for fact." Borrowing a line from the Clinton campaign, Mr. Gaines says he told the staff, "Look, if I had a campaign slogan, it would be `It's the reporting, stupid.' "Mr. Gaines has begun to tinker with and loosen up Mr. Muller's design and concept. Time plans to replace the gossipy Grapevine news column with a column called Informed Sources, while also cutting back the weekly news recap to five pages. Mr. Gaines is adding shorter pieces inside Time, seemingly a partial return to the departmentalized approach Mr. Muller threw out. Later in the summer, Mr. Gaines, a classically trained pianist, will rename the back-of-the-book Reviews section and add more cultural coverage. Mr. Gaines has already impressed staffers with his approach. When former tennis star Arthur Ashe died of AIDS late on a Saturday afternoon in February, Time had already closed its issue for the week and was only hours away from going to press. Mr. Gaines got word that evening after arriving at his Manhattan home from dinner out with his wife. Within the hour, he arrived at Time's midtown offices with two colleagues, ripped out the back-page essay and began reporting and writing an eloquent tribute to the activist athlete, working well past midnight. Time's last three covers before this week-on dinosaurs, the deaths in Waco, Texas, and the ascent of Hillary Rodham Clinton -- have been its three bestselling issues on newsstands so far this year. While most of Time Inc. 's top executives are watching such sales numbers closely, Mr. Gaines is taking a longer view. Two years from now, he says, he hopes the magazine's readers will feel "they can't understand their world precisely without reading Time." He adds, "It's certainly not my goal to maintain the status quo. Time and the times ask for change." [This article is made available here by Dow Jones Co. for the personal and non-commercial use of callers to this bbs, in the hope that it will be of some help to those who are suffering from the disease and others who are seeking to help them.]