The New Yorker recently had a profile of Henry Luce and Time and Harold Ross and The New Yorker’s opinion of them. Balloon Juice highlighted a couple of the good parts. This is the type of cattiness we could use a little more of.
[A] brutal parody of Timestyle, called “Time . . . Fortune . . . Life . . . Luceâ€: “Backward ran sentences until reeled the mind.†He skewered the contents of Fortune (“branch banking, hogs, glassblowing, how to live in Chicago on $25,000 a yearâ€) and of Life (“Russian peasants in the nude, the love life of the Black Widow spiderâ€). He made Luce ridiculous (“ambitious, gimlet-eyed, Baby Tycoon Henry Robinson Luceâ€), not sparing his childhood (“Very unlike the novels of Pearl Buck were his early daysâ€), his fabulous wealth (“Described too modestly by him to Newyorkereporter as ‘smallest apartment in River House,’ Luce duplex at 435 East 52nd Street contains 15 rooms, 5 baths, a lavatoryâ€), or his self-regard: “Before some important body he makes now at least one speech a year.†He announced the net profits of Time Inc., purported to have calculated to five decimal places the “average weekly recompense for informing fellowman,†and took a swipe at Ingersoll, “former Fortuneditor, now general manager of all Timenterprises . . . salary: $30,000; income from stock: $40,000.†In sum, “Sitting pretty are the boys.â€
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“There’s not a single kind word about me in the whole Profile,†Luce said. “That’s what you get for being a baby tycoon,†Ross said. “Goddamn it, Ross, this whole goddamned piece is malicious, and you know it!†Ross paused. “You’ve put your finger on it, Luce. I believe in malice.â€
I BELIEVE IN MALICE!