K
KiRby
Guest

The first time I went down to Rio in 1986, I flew business class. I was working for The Wall Street Journal. When I got back, I handed my expenses to Eric Morgenthaler, then the bureau chief in Miami.
He had a glass office. I watched him, before he called me in and asked why I’d flown business. Overnight flight, I said, interview with a minister the next morning, blah, blah, blah.
“The Wall Street Journal,” Morgenthaler said with a certain class and solemnity, “flies first class.”
Now those same reporters wish they had money to purchase in-flight snacks. But like town cars at Conde Nast and the drink cart at Time Inc. and the legitimate possibility of full-time employment, those things are gone now. The golden age of journalism, when the money flowed freely, was actually an aberration. Now, things are back where they used to be: with reporters hitching rides cross-country on box cars. America! [NYT]He had a glass office. I watched him, before he called me in and asked why I’d flown business. Overnight flight, I said, interview with a minister the next morning, blah, blah, blah.
“The Wall Street Journal,” Morgenthaler said with a certain class and solemnity, “flies first class.”
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