Arthur Gelb - City Room

ARTHUR GELB

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

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Copyright 2003 by Arthur Gelb.

Cover design by Aliza Dzik. Cover photograph: The New York Times.

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PRINTING HISTORY

Marian Wood hardcover / October 2003

Berkley trade paperback edition / November 2004

ISBN: 978-1-101-66383-7

The Library of Congress has catalogued the Marian Wood hardcover edition as follows:

Gelb, Arthur, date.

City room / Arthur Gelb.

p. cm

A Marian Wood book.

Includes index.

ISBN 0-399-15075-7

1. Gelb, Arthur. 2. JournalistsUnited StatesBiography.

1. Title.

PN4874.G347A3 2003 2003043154

070.92dc21

[B]

To Barbara, who won my heart

in the old city room

A S I ENTERED THE LOBBY of The New York Times at 10:30 P.M. , normally deserted at that late hour, I found myself in step behind a lissome woman with wavy ash-blond hair, wearing a snug-fitting black dress.

It was late May 1944, my first week as a copyboy, the humblest rank on the newspapers staff. I was on my way back to the city room, second home to a legion of reporters and editors, all collaborators in the daily ritual of getting the paper out in time to meet truck, mail and rail schedules.

Sammy Solovitz, also a copyboy, and Iboth of us just turned twentywere balancing bundles of newspapers on our shoulders. They were early editions of competing New York dailies, and the ink, still damp, smudged our hands and clothes. We had been sent to fetch the papers from a newsstand around the corner in Times Square, so that the editors could check whether The Times had missed any important stories.

I was uneasily aware of the odd couple Sammy and I madehe an elfin four-foot-nine and I a gangling six-foot-two. Despite the bundle weighing him down, Sammy nonchalantly blew smoke rings, mimicking the soldier in Times Squares bigger-than-life Camel cigarette ad. By contrast, I must have appeared self-consciously earnest as I stared straight ahead through horn-rimmed glasses. My discomfort galloped nearly out of control when the woman we had followed into the elevator turned around, and I gazed into the sapphire eyes of Madeleine Carrollfor me, the screens most beautiful actress.

Among the films in which she had starred were The 39 Steps, the Hitchcock thriller, and My Favorite Blonde, with Bob Hope, and I had spent a good part of my adolescence fantasizing about her. When the elevator door opened onto the reception area of the third-floor city room, I was frozen. Sammy had to tug my arm and lead me out. Instead of following him into the city room, I rang for the ascending elevator and, when it returned, I asked my new friend, Herman, the white-gloved elevator operator, where he had taken Miss Carroll.

Kid, keep your shirt on, he said, and snapped the elevator gate shut.

Sharing Madeleine Carrolls aura was beyond anything I had expected during my first week at The Times, but I realized I would have to restrain my curiosity at least temporarily. The last thing I wanted was to do anything to jeopardize my new job on this titan of newspapers.

The city room was in full cry, with the paper going into extra editions through much of the night due to the breaking war news. Reporters, virtually all men in those days, unwound with drink and camaraderie in nearby saloons, and wives and girlfriends were expected to understand and not scold when their men broke dates or came home late.