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The Columnist
By Michael Alan Hamlin
July 23, 2001
In The Columnist, a new novel by Jeffrey Frank, protagonist
Brandon Sladder is writing his memoirs. He tells a story of a steady
stream of successes, mostly at the expense of people - some close,
some not - whose paths he happens to cross over the course of his
career. His first big break comes when he humiliates his news editor
by going over his head. Sladder convinces the editor-in-chief to
let him investigate a series of mysterious fires. He capitalizes
on that break by examining the confidential insurance policies sold
by his father, which "contained invaluable data" supporting
Sladder's arson thesis, which nevertheless comes to naught.
As did his father's career. When Sladder publishes
the confidential information his proud father is dismissed "for
cause," and is eventually reduced to bagging groceries at a
local grocery store. The pattern continues as Sladder is transformed
from an aspiring columnist into a media star. Girlfriends, peers,
sources and superiors alike are mowed down by Sladder's searing
ambition.
Sladder's searing ambition is mirrored by his insensitivity.
He thought that he and his father had an understanding. He can't
understand why a deputy secretary for defense refuses to socialize
with him, although the official and Sladder came to know each other
through a mutual acquaintance who happens to work the streets and
whose best customers are quick ones. Neither can he understand the
animosity of former colleagues when the owners of their publication
shut the money-losing proposition down following the publication
of a Sladder essay that enrages the couple.
Frank knows of that he writes. He is a senior editor
at The New Yorker, and was formerly an editor at The Washington
Post and The Washington Star. The New Yorker, especially, has an
interesting recent history not unlike the publication that was closed
following Sladder's fictional display of editorial independence.
The magazine, a U.S. publishing and New York icon, by some estimates
loses about US$1 million a month, despite being owned by successful
mega media company Condé Nast. Condé Nast canned celebrity
publisher Tina Brown in 1999 for creating lots of buzz for The New
Yorker but lousy financial results. Frank might not have "been
there, done that" to the extent Sladder manages, but he's certainly
"been near, seen that."
Whether you are in publishing or some other industry,
we've all seen Sladder types come and go, and mostly go up, unmindful
- at least for the most part - of the growing pile of bodies left
in their wake. Of course, as Sladder points out, a good many of
those bodies deserved just what they got, and if it hadn't been
Sladder who did the deed, it would have been someone else. So if
someone's going to benefit from the carnage, why shouldn't it be
Sladder?
Sladder demonstrates other black magic principles of
corporate success. Most obvious perhaps is that the growing notoriety
attached to Sladder has very little negative effect. In fact, the
more notorious he becomes, the more money he makes, the better jobs
he gets, and the more influential he becomes. While there are good
reasons for managers and organizations to nurture the development
of positive reputations, for those who can't quite manage that just
being known seems to suffice. Although Sladder might not think so
out loud, for him it is better to be bad and successful than to
be good and unsuccessful.
At least for a long time. Sladder does eventually find
himself on the uncomfortable end of an unbalanced relationship and
an unsavory reputation. And he falls from where it hurts most, the
top. His one, and best, friend and presidential aspirant betrays
him in a most intimate yet insensate way just as Sladder begins
to fade professionally and personally. His columns, once carried
by hundreds of papers, are no longer read. He separates from his
wife, who exposes his collaboration with Sladder's former best friend
and his wife's lover. His syndicate considers dropping him. His
daughter walks out of his life.
At the funeral of one of his early benefactors Sladder
later remarks to room full of former colleagues who refuse to make
eye contact, "I was lucky to be her friend and her confidant,
and I hope that she was lucky to be mine." But as was true
throughout his life, Sladder fails to grasp why, "My remarks
silenced the crowd utterly."
Sladder is saved, at least professionally, for a time
by new communications technologies that thirst for content to push
to viewers, and he finds himself a regular on more cable programs
than anyone could hope to watch. It may not be prime time, but he
still rubs shoulders with the rich and powerful. And he continues
to spend as much time on his columns - despite their obscurity -
as he always has because that is what he does. And although Sladder
has grown aware that something important is missing from his life
- he has no relationships whatsoever - Sladder's pain is not yet
over, and the next, and perhaps final, humiliation comes disguised
in the worst possible way: in overt kindness.
Although Sladder was a respected political commentator
wise to the ways of the world, he never had an inkling of what was
going on around him, or why the things that happened to him did.
Now, who does that remind you of?
(Mr. Hamlin is managing director of the consultancy
TeamAsia and the author of two books on Asian economies and managing
in Asia. His latest book is The New Asian Corporation: Managing
for the Future in Post-Crisis Asia. His e-mail address is mahamlin@teamasia.com.ph.)
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