I learned this, at least, by my experiment: That if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpected in common hours. — Henry David Thoreau
Ten years ago, shortly after I became editor-in-chief of Port Folio Weekly, I sat down with a friend to share my vision for the publication. I wanted to offer a true alternative to the mainstream media, I told him. In response to talk of shrunken attention spans and diminished vocabularies, Port Folio would enthusiastically embrace long-form, literary journalism. In opposition to the prevailing notion that the arts are mere frills, we would invite people to think deeply about music, dance, theater, painting and sculpture as essential sources of nourishment for the human spirit. And as a counter to the pervasive conservatism of the Seven Cities and beyond, we would be unabashedly liberal.
"Those are fine goals," my friend told me. "But I'm not sure this community will support such a publication. I hope you prove me wrong."
I knew his skepticism was well founded, but I figured I'd give it a shot. If I lasted one or two years, I would count that as a modest success and move on.
As it turned out, I lasted a decade. But now, this experiment has come to an end. As of next week, I will no longer be editor-in-chief of this paper.
The reasons for my departure are complicated, but at the heart of the matter is a fundamental disagreement with the management of our parent company over editorial philosophy.
That 'L' word was perhaps the biggest sticking point. The higher ups here believed that Port Folio under my leadership had become "too staunchly liberal." The charge reflects both a superficial reading of the magazine and a fundamental misunderstanding of what liberal means. Like most Americans, they were using the word in the narrowest sense, subscribing to the notion that a liberal is someone on the political left. I certainly lean that way on most issues—although it has often occurred to me that many of us find ourselves on "the left" only because mainstream political culture has drifted so far to the right. If Dwight Eisenhower were around today, he would be contemptuously dismissed by many people as a left-wing nut. ("What's all this crazy talk about the military-industrial complex? It's downright un-American.") But as any thoughtful reader of our publication knows, we never embraced left-wing politics mindlessly or rigidly. I abhor political correctness, viewing it as an insidious threat to freedom of expression. And I have always actively encouraged people from across the political spectrum to contribute to our pages. I have done so because I proudly aspire to the virtues of liberalism in the true senses of the word. Among its definitions in my various dictionaries are "not bound by conventional or orthodox attitudes"; "free from bigotry"; "open-minded"; "tolerant of the behavior and ideas of others"; "generous." Liberalism emphasizes, above all, the virtues of education and compassion for all people. If we're talking about these definitions, then yes—I have used Port Folio Weekly to advance an "agenda," a belief that our society is crumbling for lack of a liberal spirit.
I am proud to have done so. And judging by feedback I got from readers over the years, these efforts were deeply appreciated. There is a growing hunger in this community and this nation for more liberal voices, as evidenced by the popularity of Barack Obama. But long before most Americans had heard of him, the hunger was there, in this community, albeit among a smaller number of people. I have tried to speak to that disenfranchised minority.
I have also tried to use these pages to highlight overlooked aspects of our culture. Early on, for example, I made a commitment to cover jazz. I did so because I believe this particular form of music is culturally important and that if people are encouraged to listen to it they will hear and feel in its sounds the whole of the human condition: our joys and sorrows, the saving grace of spontaneity and humor, and the truth that while life is filled with dissonance, we can always find our way back home to harmony and the original melodies of our souls.
The trouble with covering something like jazz is that it doesn't automatically draw a lot of readers. The existing audience for it is small. Several years ago, in fact, I wrote in these pages that if I selected stories only on the basis of popular interest, I would never touch jazz or any number of other subjects. But as the arts editor of The Wall Street Journal once told me, it is not our job merely to calculate what people want and to then give it to them. It is our job to tap readers on the shoulder and say, "Check this out. It's wonderful!"
I share with him a fervent belief that editors are called upon to be cultural leaders. But this sense of the profession has been eroded, as publishing executives of old have been replaced by "marketing professionals." Increasingly, editors of newspapers and magazines alike are expected to chase audiences with the single-minded goal of increasing profits for shareholders. Many people in the business have even taken to calling publications products, as if they were indistinguishable from sugar-laden, nutritionally worthless breakfast cereals.
In keeping with this outlook, publishers are looking more and more to focus groups and such, in an effort to determine what sort of publication they should produce and what sort of stories they should cover. I wholeheartedly reject this approach, not only because it amounts to pandering rather than leadership, but because it does not work. All the great magazines and newspapers of the last century—from Harold Ross' New Yorker and Arnold Gingrich's Esquire to The Washington Post under Katherine Graham and Ben Bradlee—have succeeded because they had visionary publishers and editors behind them. They succeeded as well because those editors and publishers stayed focused on the social and cultural mission of the enterprise, not on profits. They understood that advertising revenues are the lifeblood of a paper, but they had faith that if they pursued their vision, the money would follow.
That approach worked here, as well, for many years. Today, the challenges have grown more formidable, what with the downturn in the economy and a cultural shift from print to online publishing. These circumstances have magnified the sense among executives here that it is time for a change in leadership at Port Folio Weekly.
They may be right. Ten years is a long time to do this sort of thing. Still, I stand by my belief that editors must strive to be leaders, making decisions based largely on instinct and infusing their publications with their own passions and convictions and liberal sensibilities, in the best sense. I hope that whoever takes the helm here, will bring these qualities to the job. This community—which I have grown to love—needs such a publication.
For my part, because I have grown to love the Seven Cities, I have no plans to leave the area. Moreover, I do not intend to stop writing this column. From here on out, you'll be able to read my weekly essay on my Web site at tomrobotham.com. As always, I look forward to your feedback. Meanwhile, I want to thank my current and former staff members. It has been my great pleasure to work with them. I also want to thank you, my dear readers. I am eternally indebted to you, not only for your undying support of Port Folio but for all that you do for this community. I look forward to joining you as we continue the good fight.
—Tom Robotham
tomrobotham@gmail.com