Mary McGrory: Interview #2

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[Tape 262_01 begins]

Currie: This is an oral history interview with Mary McGrory for the Washington Press Club

Foundation. The interview was taking place in Miss McGrory's apartment in Washington, D.C.

on July 26th, 1992. The interviewer is Kathleen Currie. This is one of two tapes recorded on this

day.

McGrory: I made this cheese. It's it's, it's, it's regular cream cheese. And I took some chive and

basil from the garden, and you like it?

Currie: It’s wonderful. Let me just make sure that this is on. I wonder if you'd just say a few

words into the microphone.

McGrory: Hi Kathleen. It's nice to see you again.

Currie: It's great to see you again. It's been almost a year, I believe.

McGrory: A year? No.

Currie: Can you believe it? I believe so. Almost. Well, it's great to see you again. I was reading

your interview again this morning, and I'm remembering it with great fondness.

I wanted to go back a little bit, both to the former interview and some other things that I had

read, because I know we talked just briefly. You had, you alluded to there was an editor at The

Boston Herald, and I believe his name was George E Minot.

McGrory: That is correct.

Currie: And in the Ms. article that was written about you, you kind of alluded to the fact that he,

he wasn't too encouraging to you.

McGrory: No, he was not.

Currie: And the way they put it in the article was they didn't think you had the makings…. I don't

know if you want to.

McGrory: That sounds about right. They didn't, they didn't give me a chance. So apparently,

they didn't think it was worth it.

Currie: Did they, did you, did they talk to you about why they weren't giving you an opportunity?

McGrory: No. No.

Currie: So, he was just, I guess, somewhere else, I read that, that they told you that you were

too shy to be a journalist?

McGrory: No, I don't remember that. No, no, I'm not shy. I'm often insecure, but not shy. That's

a totally different thing.

Currie: How would you define the difference?

McGrory: Well, shy means that you, you don't, don't like to meet new people, and you don't,

you back off when you are introduced to people. I don't think I do that. But I'm not sure that

people will, will cooperate, or put up with the kind of questions I'm going to ask, and that I can

just bull my way into someplace where somebody doesn't want me. But I don't think I'm shy.

Currie: Yeah, there is a difference. Did you find that this feeling of what you call insecurity held

you back at times? How did you overcome that?

McGrory: I'm not sure I ever did.

Currie: How did you then make it work for you?

McGrory: Well, I spent a lot of time writing. I, I didn't think I could be as aggressive as some

people, or as quick as some people, or have that ability. I can remember Doris Fleeson, who

was a real idol of mine. I probably told you she was extremely nice to me.

Currie: Yes.

McGrory: We went to a, a press conference by President Eisenhower in Pennsylvania, and I

wasn't sure what to make of it after I heard it. She went immediately to a typewriter and in 45

minutes had perfect, coherent, cogent 700 to 800 words. Whatever she had to do. I can do that

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under extremist, enormous pressure. But she did it just automatically, because she'd had

training as a police reporter. And she was a very incisive human being.

And Ed Lahey could do it, too. Ed Lahey would sit at the hearings, and he had a set of pencils.

He had a green one, and a red one, and a yellow one, and he underlined the testimony as he

heard it. And then, he would sit down and compose a perfectly beautiful, rounded, finished.

column.

I did it once in the case of the Goldfine hearings. You remember Sherman Adams, and the

Vicuna coat, and the rug? Some kind of a special rug, I forget now. Anyway ..

Currie: In the Eisenhower administration?

McGrory: Yes. And The Post was coming after us. We knew because they had two people

there, and they were both very good, probably better than me. And the only way we could

compensate, we thought, was for me to rush back to the office and, in 45 minutes, write for the

night final.

Well, it was a great strain, but I always remember that I got back, and there was a very

obnoxious copy boy who would never do what you asked him, and I asked him for some books.

You know, we all used typewriters then. And there were two carbons in a press sheet, and he

gave me a hard time, which was his custom.

But I finally got a lead out, and they came and looked at it. Newby Noyes stood by me. He put

his hand on my shoulder and said, “That's a good lead.” And then I was able to go, but that's,

you know, that's a great editor.

And so I did that. I don't, I didn't do it for the whole duration of the hearings, but I did it enough to

let The Post know we weren’t going to, you know, just take it lying down. They were going to

send in two guys and think they were going to neutralize “us.”

Currie: And, just, just so we can get this a book is basically, it'd be like two sheets of carbon

with paper attached to it, so that you could, you could, you had they were?

McGrory: Yeah, they were long pieces of paper perforated on the top, and they folded over.

And then you put another sheet in, and you had two pieces of copy paper, and you had a book.

Currie: That way you could get several copies of….

McGrory: Yeah, I forget the first copy went to the desk, to the editor. I forget now why it was that

way. I'm going to a, a party tonight, and I'm going to see somebody who worked there at the

time, and I'll ask him, and I'll call you.

Okay. Great. And we can write in the, the transcript once it's finished.

McGrory: Okay. I'll call you on that.

Currie: I know sometimes these questions about mechanics seem odd, but, you know, these

are the kinds of things that you want to preserve because people forget.

McGrory: I know, I know, now they have all these contraptions, you know, the Toshiba and all

that. I tried to use one in New York at the convention, and it ate, out of sheer spite, 12 inches of

my copy, which they eventually retrieved. But the editor, Bill Hamilton, neither one of us said

anything, although we were close to hysteria. At least I was, because it was on deadline and,

you know, 12 inches were gone

Currie: That's a lot.

McGrory: So, he said the next day, “How would you like to dictate?”

I said, “Hallelujah, you know, God preserve you.” That was the most wonderful news I heard.

And then, I sat in my room with my little yellow pad, and I wrote it out in longhand, and I called

up Allwyn at the post and dictated it, and there was no trouble.

So, I am resistant to technology. Although people tell me that they become very attached to the

Toshiba, and they like it.

But you should hear a conversation among reporters now. It's all about modems and, and

transistors and extra batteries, and I don't even know what they're talking about. So, I sort of

worry about that and think maybe it's hard to hang in when you can't master the technology.

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Currie: But you've managed.

McGrory: Not really. I can do it at The Post. I love, love, love my machine at The Post. I have a

Raytheon, and it does, you know, it's a nice big screen, so I can see it, and it, it, all I ask of it is

19 inches three times a week. I don't want it to do. I don't ask anything more of it.

Other people can, you know, split the screen and get bylines from Beirut and stuff. I can't do any

of that, but that, I found that very easy. That helped me. It helped me. At the start, it was a

hindrance, the machines. I think I told you that when they brought in the computers, I said, “No.”

Currie: Oh, you did?

McGrory: I did. I said, “That's beyond me.” And knowing me, they, they agreed that it probably

was. And then after a year, they said, “We think you should learn it.”

So, a saint called Robert Pierre, who now writes for The New York Times, volunteered to teach

me. And after he had finished his job, he would come and sit with me, and together we would

write my column. Patient never raised his voice. You can hardly hear him, he's so low-voiced.

After a week, I got it, you know, as much as I ever was going to. And then I went over to The

Post. Oh, and our machines were always crashing, always going down, always. And we didn't

have enough to go around, and there'd be terrible fights about whose turn it was, and then we'd

go down for like six or seven hours. And then the, the, the experts who were on another floor

and they learned to lock themselves in because you know, we reporters were coming up. It was,

it was terrible. It was just terrible. And then I went to The Post, and I, there was a terrible interval

where the insert button was, was on The Star computer was where the delete button was on

The Post computer. So, for three weeks there, I seriously thought of getting out of the business.

Then, I said, “I cannot master this; it is too much for me.” But eventually it came. And then they

said, “We want to change the computers again.” They haven't done it yet, however.

Currie: Thank God. Well, I have interviewed people who never wrote on a computer, in fact,

only wrote on manual typewriters and still do to this day.

McGrory: Who?

Currie: I can't remember exactly who had this at this moment, but it's a problem with finding

manual. I think Edith Asbury only writes on a manual typewriter.

McGrory: Raspberry?

Curie: Edith Asbury.

McGrory: Oh, yeah.

Currie: I would check with her, but she. It's a problem finding manual typewriters,

McGrory: She has an electric one, I wonder?

Currie: I don't think so. She says that I forget exactly who it was. I think it was Edith. So, now

you, because you originally started on a manual one, I suppose?

McGrory: Yes. Yes.

Currie: And then went to an electric?

McGrory: No.

Currie: You never went to …..

McGrory: No, no, I had a regular typewriter, and I was always writing in and crossing out. I

could see where they would want me to go to the computer. It is much cleaner. And I could do it

more easily on a computer.

Currie: It is also, well, as everyone, I'm sure, it's much faster.

McGrory: It is. It's wonderful. It keeps up with you.

Currie: Yeah. And then, so the Toshiba's are the laptops you're talking about?

McGrory: Yeah. Fiendish little gadgets. I hate them.

Currie: Now. What did you do, for example, when you were traveling before the era of

computers? How did you manage ….

McGrory: We had a Western Union. We had Mr. Carroll Lincolns, white haired gentleman,

kindly, beautiful disposition, rode along with the press corps. And when we'd get to a city, they

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would have all the local Western Union operators there, and we would write our copy, and he

would take it over to them, and they would send it. Worked fine.

Currie: And did you have to bring typewriters with you?

McGrory: Oh, yeah.

Currie: Portable typewriters?

McGrory: Yeah.

Currie: Basically.

McGrory: Yeah.

Currie: And you just take it out, give it to Western Union.

McGrory: And that was it.

Currie: Well, that was pretty fast.

McGrory: It was fine. I don't know why they changed it.

Currie: What. Well, I guess the technology is one of the big changes in journalism.

McGrory: Yes, it is, it is.

Currie: How do you stay…?

McGrory: And TV. Yeah TV.

Currie: Maybe you could talk a little bit about how you've seen the TV and technology affect

journalism.

McGrory: Well, as I say, the conversation is so much about the mechanics of transmitting and,

and I wrote a piece about this, not so long ago, about the Toshiba. It was a Sunday piece and

all, all this is in it, and it was brought to mind by Clara Bingham, who interviewed me for a piece

on women in journalism, you know, correspondents, for I think it was Vanity Fair, Vogue, or

something. Anyway, and so it all came back to, came back to me. Not all, but TV means that we

are nothing. That we, as we say, print journalists. They used to call us writing journalists; now

they call us print journalists. And when we were in New York last time, our workspace was

across the street, up six floors in another building.

Currie: This is at the Democratic convention?

McGrory: Yes.

Currie: This year?

McGrory: Yes. And, everything is done for the convenience of TV, as you know, everything. And

it used to be we had hearings in Congress. There would be the witness table, horizontal. And

then in the Army-McCarthy hearings, for instance, the press tables ran right along the edge on

either side, so that if you had a good seat, you were actually in front of the witness, and you

could see the witness’s face. And it was wonderful. Now all they care about are the cameras,

which, of course, can see from any place. So the witness table is up here, and the press tables

are six feet back. So you never see anybody's face.

Currie: And are the cameras between the….

McGrory: No, the cameras, they have lovely little booths for them along the side, so they don't

have any trouble at all. But there's no good railing at that. It's here to stay, and I'm glad it is. I

mean, as a viewer, I am very glad.

Currie: Do you think more people are reading newspapers?

McGrory: I don't know, I don't know, they tell us that, what is it, 60% of the people get their

news from TV? So, I guess we're wasting our time. I don't know.

Currie: Well, for example, like over the years, you get mail.

McGrory: Oh, yes.

Currie: Has it increased? Has it decreased? Has it….

McGrory: It's, it's still plentiful. The interesting thing to me is that of all the zillions of words I've

written, the three biggest mail gatherers were Jane Austen, squirrels, and what was the third

one?

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Jane Austen, squirrels….. Isn't that awful? I can't think. Oh, garden. Well, the garden is related

to squirrels. It really isn't a separate thing.

But the first time I wrote about Jane Austen, I was simply stunned. I got letters from all over the

country.

What happened was that I was asked to, a, to conduct a little seminar at a Jane Austen Society

meeting in Philadelphia. And the seminar was about Emma, and I was completely taken aback

by the knowledge of the people whom I was supposedly leading in this discussion. The depth of

their information and their commitment, and their addiction. One man had read Emma 50 times.

Anyway, I wrote about this and the Jane Austen fans came out of everywhere. It was amazing. I

mean, we get so many calls, how could they join the Jane Austen Society?

I got a letter from a clergyman in Ohio who said I should examine my conscience and see how

remiss I had been in not giving the address of the Jane Austen Society. I mean, we're talking

fanaticism.

And then a great many people feel very strongly about squirrels, very strongly about squirrels.

I wrote about my continuing and unavailing efforts to keep them from raiding the bird feeder.

Well, I mean, I got a letter from a woman who had electrified a copper wire between her kitchen

and her bird feeder tree. Another woman who kept a bag of potatoes and zinged one at any

squirrels she saw coming. It was hilarious. More letters than anything.

I used to get lots of letters about Israel. Every time you wrote on any Jewish question, you got

letters. But that has stopped. That has stopped. I think there's a different feeling there.

Currie: It's interesting. Why do you think you got such a tremendous response on these

columns? The Jane Austen and the squirrels?

McGrory: I don't know. I went to the State Department once to talk. I don't like speaking in

public, but this was an old friend of mine who asked me to come. And a young man, very sober,

the kind of person who I thought would love reading my analysis of the Cambodian politics, or

the Senate's action on nuclear weapons, he said to me, “Why don't you write more about your

garden and Jane Austen?”

There's something about the personal, I guess. I don't know, I don't know. It's very hard for me

to figure out…

The most satisfaction I ever took out of writing was probably once when I wrote a piece about

General de Gaulle, who came here. I forget when. He, he was so much fun to watch, you know,

he was so lofty and statesmanlike and sort of elephantine and everything. And I wrote a little

story about his day and how he had, in his majestic way, had gone to shake a few hands. And

he said, “Je vous allez de bonjour quelque personnes.” And he walked across the street, shook

hands. People were just awestruck.

So, I wrote a little, just a little account. And I got a letter from a woman on 16th Street who

thanked me because she said she had a dreadful operation, and she was feeling very low, and

then after she read what I wrote, she felt better.

Now that, that's more than you could hope for.

Currie: Oh, yes.

McGrory: So I always think, I sometimes hope that maybe I'm making people feel better. I'm not

sure. Although I think most of the stuff I write makes people feel worse because, all during the

Vietnam War, I was saying, you know, this is not all during, but when it got bad and said, look,

we ought to stop and criticize and everything, and I would get letters from people saying, “I

thought I was losing my mind until I read you. Thank you for saving my sanity. I agree with this,

but look what you know our government is doing.” So as I say, you make them feel better and

you. But you really make them feel worse because they were against the policy, and you're

writing against the policy, and the policy doesn't change.

Currie: But it also sounds like whether you're writing about Jane Austen or the Vietnam War or

General de Gaulle, you're tapping some, some collective unconscious.

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McGrory: I don't know about that. I'm never sure, I'm never sure. I mean, my nephew said to

me once, “Why do, why do people want to read what you write?” And I said, “I don't know.”

And I don't know, because I think there are better writers than I. I know they are. And, you know,

I've been so incredibly lucky to have the freedom to throw in a few comments and everything.

I think the basis should be very good reporting, very serious, sound reporting. But then, you

know, I have the liberty to take off and make of it anything I want. I have no idea. No idea.

Currie: It's interesting. At the last interview, you said you never write for your sources. Do you

write for your readers?

McGrory: Yes. Well, I have so few sources. I mean, no one has fewer sources than I do. I

mean, I've been with David Broder, for instance, at a convention, and I've seen somebody come

up to him and say, “Hi, David, I'm the state chairman from Oregon. You remember me? Say, we

had a hell of a row at a committee meeting last week, and I thought you might like to know, and

tells him the whole story. Unsolicited. Never happened to me in my life.

Currie: Now, why do you think that is?

McGrory: I don't know. Because they don't like what I write. Why should they confide in me if

I'm going to make fun of them?

I don't know, I mean, if I go up on the Hill, people will tell me things, but I have to ask. It's

unsolicited stories that are so. I'm so jealous of.

Currie: Well, now David Broder can be critical at times.

McGrory: Yes, but he has more standing than I do. I mean, he is considered a more, sort of a

fixture, sort of a God. He's…. Because he's prodigious. He is…. He's stupendous. He, he never

quits. He never slackens. He's, he's, you know, today, he's the way he was when he was 21

years old. I didn't know him then, but I assume he was eager, anxious, and consumed by what

he's doing.

Currie: He must have good genes.

McGrory: Good what?

Currie: Genes.

McGrory: Oh, excellent. The best, the best.

Currie: To keep all that energy going.

McGrory: It's wonderful, wonderful.

Currie: But I would disagree. I think you have your own stature.

McGrory: Maybe. I don't know. It’s something I never worry about.

Currie: It's probably, probably, It's like, well, you talked about this in your other interview, too,

but it's like, reading your own reviews. It's not a good idea.

McGrory: No, no.

Currie: I also noticed that I think I've seen with Dylan McClelland's book that, you said one thing

that helped you was that you were a good speller. Was that….. ?

McGrory: Well, that's pretty superficial, isn't it? I wonder why I would have said that.

Currie: Well, I don't know. Being a bad speller myself? I am no, I may be that's the. I'm. Maybe

I'm being too whimsical. It's just I'm trying to think of the thing, the sort of basic equipment that

you need to do your job. I'm. I'm sorry. I didn't phrase very well.

McGrory: Well, I had six years of Latin, and I think that's very good, because you do learn what

words mean. At the time, you don't understand that, but you know, even on deadline, if you find

a word and you're not exactly sure, you can break it down into the Latin. And that helps. And

then we had at Girls’ Latin School in the eighth grade, we had to diagram sentences, very useful

diagraming sentences, so that you, you know, you hope you never write a 75-word lead or

anything like that. And you, you know, you know it has to hang together. That was very useful.

Another thing that's useful is reading poetry. And we had to. We had to take a French poem and

translate it into English in verse. Oh, that was very useful.

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Currie: Very difficult.

McGrory: Yeah. And, try to write Italian sonnets and English sonnets. And all those exercises

were very good. I don't know if they still go on.

And also, never take yourself seriously. Very, very important. A lesson taught daily, 35 years at

The Star, self-importance was not allowed and never tolerated. And, that's important too, I think.

Currie: Why do you think that's so important?

McGrory: Oh, because a lot of people get all caught up in themselves and, you know.

It gets in the way of doing the best possible job. If you're so full of yourself, you, you don't do as

well as you do if you see yourself as the servant of the story and the, and the, the part of the

newspaper instead of some remarkable creature who did it better than anybody else.

Newspaper work is very humbling, I think, and should be, Because you can always make a

pluperfect fool of yourself in front of the whole world, get it wrong, fail to put it together properly,

have the lead in the tag line, you know, do something really stupid, but you have another

chance the next day to do it right. That, to me, is its great charm. Always another chance.

Currie: Have you ever felt like you've made a pluperfect fool of yourself?

McGrory: Oh. Of course. Oh, yeah. I thought at one time that McGovern could win. [laughter]

And, I get it wrong a lot of times. I'm sure there's somebody out there keeping score, too.

I thought that they would … something in the Nixon administration, I was sure it was going to go

down, the ABM system, I think it was. Which deserved to go down, in my opinion, but did not.

And I wrote, you know, two days before it happened, that it surely, he surely couldn't make it. I

still get it wrong. I didn't think Bill Clinton could be nominated. I really didn't.

Currie: Well, I think he would have gotten a lot of takers on that one a few months ago.

McGrory: Well, and yet here he is. He's not only the nominee, but he's two to 1

one ahead of George Bush.

Currie: Yeah.

McGrory: If you read me, you wouldn’t have thought he had a chance.

Currie: Well, I did, and I didn't think he had much of a chance. But not, not only because that's

what you thought. I think that was a lot, what a lot of people thought.

McGrory: [whispers] Why don't you have another one of these?

Currie: Oh, thank you. They’re wonderful.

In this excerpt from Winzola McLendon’s book, Don't Quote Me, she says that, you were

occasionally, and I think she's referring to earlier on in your career, lectured that if you wanted to

be successful, you should not be difficult.

McGrory: Oh, yeah. Well, that comes of being brought up in the dark ages of sexism, I guess. I

always thought it was very important not to be difficult if you could arrange it, because they had

a prejudice against women. They expected you to be difficult. So then, when you were difficult,

they felt vindicated and reinforced in their notion that the newsroom was no place for women.

You know, they always burst into tears, or had hysterics, you know, or went crying to the coat

rack or whatever. So, I tried not to be difficult. I'm not sure I succeeded. You should talk to some

of my buddies at The Star.

Currie: Oh, that's a difficult role to play, simply because reporters have to be difficult in some

ways to do their job.

McGrory: Oh, I don't mean difficult on the line.

Currie: Maybe I should ask you more about ….

McGrory: No, I mean, but difficult in the office is what I meant. No, I was quite difficult just as

recently as, like, two, two Mondays ago. I was following Albert Gore in New York, and I went to

the back, to the brokerage house, the lawyer's office, Cravath, Swaine and Moore. And they told

me it was closed to the public. I said, “Closed to the public? What are you talking about?” I said,

“Is this man running to be a partner in Cravath, Swaine, and Moore, or is he running for the vice

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presidency in the United States?” I mean, I really made sort of a scene, which I, I don't think I do

more than anybody else. And do you know, they let me in?

Currie: Good for you.

McGrory: And then I got to sit down, and I was introduced, actually. So it was. it doesn't always

work, though.

Currie: But you do have to have that kind of…

McGrory: Yeah. You have to have a sense of outrage and indignation, and you get very cross

with people who try to keep you from doing what you were supposed to do.

I mean, Secret Service men, or stuffy lawyers, or whoever they may be, they are in your way,

and they have no right. They, they have their work to do, and you have your work to do.

So I do get, get quite annoyed with them, with people who get in my way. Of course, they don't

see themselves getting in my way; they think they're doing what they're supposed to do.

Currie: And this issue of difficulty in the office, maybe we could talk about that a little bit.

McGrory: This. Well, I don't think you should make a fuss. A stamp your foot or cry. Do any of

those things if you can avoid it.

Currie: Were there, were there people who did those kinds of things?

McGrory: Yeah. We had, you know, I was thinking I wish that I had the, I don't know where it is.

They did a program for The Star reunion, the 10th reunion, which was great fun. Oh, it was

wonderful. You realize that you hadn't imagined the whole thing, that you weren't romanticizing

it, that it was a unique institution where there was, that you were so sustained and nurtured and

encouraged and helped, and it was so much fun. It was, it all came back. I mean, we hadn't,

that was the best thing about it. We hadn't imagined it. It was true. It was a lovely place.

We had Miriam Ottenburg, and she did yell at them a lot, but nobody minded. She was an

excellent reporter. And she made scenes and fussed. There was an apocryphal story told about

how once she was crossed by an editor, and she whipped off her belt and ran over there. But it

was apocryphal. I am sure.

Currie: She went over to the editor with her belt?

McGrory: To beat him. Yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. She was very hard-nosed. Very hard-nosed.

Oh, we had such a good time. I can't tell you what a good time we had. It was, I wish that, I wish

I had that book for you. I don't know what I. Oh, yeah. And it was all true. I mean.

Currie: Well, if it turns up, maybe we could include it in the final…..

McGrory: Oh, yeah, I wish I had it. I thought of it last night. I thought this might show Kathleen

that I'm not exaggerating, that I was not the only person who felt that way. Star people, you

know, love each other. It's a total bond. People you don't really like very much, per se. The fact

that they were on The Star with you… Oh, they’re the best, and there was a wonderful spirit

there. But it was a teaching paper. They expected to take… Maureen Dowd begin there, you

know.

Currie: You told me that.

McGrory: And they expected young people to make mistakes, and they would correct the

mistakes, but they would encourage them to go on. There was a great spirit. Maybe I told you all

this and we had the editor, who was Mr. McKelway.

Currie: You talk a little bit about him.

McGrory: He used to give a Christmas party every year. Everybody went to it. The copy boys,

the secretaries, everybody. We sang, we had great singers on The Star, and somebody always

got drunk. Didn't matter. There was mysteriously no hierarchy. I mean, the head copy boy

would tell the editor, and that was our designation. They call them executive editors, now. It was

the editor. Okay?

And they would tell the editor what they thought, just as if they were, you know, an equal, and

they would tell reporters what they thought. And the editors, I can always remember, I never

went by the, the national desk that somebody didn't say. “Say my mother-in-law was wondering

PAGE 40

when you're going to say something about George Shultz,” or whatever, or hand you a piece of

copy, AP copy, and say, “Hey, might be able to make something of this.” And, there were always

jokes, always people. Somebody went through the paper every morning and cut out all the

gaffes and, you know, pasted them up and wrote comments on them.

It was a wonderful atmosphere, a wonderful atmosphere, very sustaining. And even when we

were going down, there was that great lifeboat feeling, and, and people, people pulling for each

other, and sticking together. You know, we had a 20% pay cut once, and people sustained it.

What you remember is encouragement and affection. It was wonderful.

Currie: And that's very unusual in…

McGrory: Apparently. Apparently, doesn’t seem to be the rule at The Post as far as I can see.

And when we got together for our 10th, everybody agreed that there really wasn't anything like

it.

Currie: And they've all now spread out to various other newspapers.

McGrory: Oh yeah. Yeah, they've been, they've done quite well. They, they learned their trade

well.

Well, I've maybe told you this story. It was during the Vietnam War, and that was a terrible time

because the paper was, is, conservative, and the staff was not and didn't interfere with the news

coverage in any way. Everybody went out and covered all the demonstrations and all that. The

editorials were conservative. Hubert Humphrey, I think, came to The Star for lunch or

something. And, of course, he was supporting the war. Had to, and we had an editorial and

praising him, and you know, fostering the war, so to speak.

And Newby Noyes later told me about a conversation which truly shocked me. I told him about

that editorial. I didn't like it. So he told Mr. McKelway, the editor. And he said to Mr. McKelway.

“Well, as Mary says, what the hell does Ben know about it, anyway?” I said, “Ben,” I said,”

Newby, I never think of Mr. McKelway as Ben. Even when I'm home and alone in my house at

midnight.” But, I mean, that was the sort of thing that went on that, that, that everybody's opinion

seemed to be given weight, always considered.

Currie: And everyone had a voice.

McGrory: They did. They did. That may have been one of the reasons we was, we were happy.

And I think I told you about the coverage of the Kennedy assassination.

Currie: No, you didn't.

McGrory: Oh, boy. That …. You know, it happened on a Friday. Friday night, all working.

And people who had worked at The Star, even going back many years, had sort of drifted in and

had come. Everybody was quiet, and everybody was kind.

And I remember a conversation the second night between two editors, Burt Hoffman and John

Cassidy. And Hoffman said to Cassidy, “Why don't you go home? You must be tired.” And

Cassidy said, “Oh, I'm fine. You've been here longer. Why don't you go home?” Everybody was

so considerate, and they sent out for sandwiches, and we ate together. We were all sort of

huddled together.

And I remember the first night, I went to the airport to see, you know, the coffin come in. And

Newby had told me I had to write an editorial. And I thought, “Well, it's rather a large order,” but

anyway, so when I came back from seeing the arrival at Andrews, I went to my typewriter. I sat

way in the back of the room, and Burt Hoffman was up in the national desk, said, “Newby’s

looking for you,” I said. “I know.”

He said, “What are you going to do?”

I said, “I'm going to write for the news side first, and then I'll do his editorial. Okay?”

So Newby came out, and he, he started circling the desk, a very wide circle, very far away from

the desk. And then, he would make a little closer circle and a closer circle and a closer circle.

And he got to my desk. He said, “Well?” I said, “I'm going to finish the news story, and then I'll

take care of you.”

PAGE 41

He said, “Okay.” So, I wrote the news story, and in 45 minutes, I wrote an editorial. And I came

back the next day, and they were all just as nice and just as quiet, just as thoughtful. And Bill

Hill, who was not a madly popular figure, he was one of the few….

Currie: Yeah. One second. I gotta, let me turn the tape, because this is.

[Tape ends]

Page 8

[Tape 263_01]

Currie: This is an oral history interview with Mary McGrory for the Washington Press Club

Foundation. The interview was taking place in Miss McGrory's apartment in Washington, D.C.,

on July 26th, 1992. The interviewer is Kathleen Currie. This is the second of two tapes recorded

on this day.

Okay, so here, here's your picture. You've got to tell me what the button is for.

Oh, no. The button doesn't come with the picture. Not that one.

Okay, there you all are. Yeah. Let's see. Well. Is that….?

McGrory: Oh, [US Representative, (D) Texas] Jim Wright was there, and Morris, is that [US

Representative, (D) Arizona]Morris Udall?

Currie: Could be. Mean. Yeah. Looks like it could be.

McGrory: Yeah. Morris Udall and Mondale, and me, and Sir Peter, and Jim Wright. And we

sang it at the Press Club. And you know what? Luck was on our side because CBS broadcast it,

and Joe heard it, and he just loved it. It's just the kind of thing that he thought he was in the

newspaper business for. So he came around at least for a while.

If I could remember the year that all happened. What does it say?

Currie: In 1974, they sold it to Allbritton, and in 1978, Time bought it. So it would have been

between ’74 and ‘78.

McGrory: Yeah. I bet Ed Yoder has those dates.

Currie: Yeah. That, that leads me to ask you, why did the Kaufman and Noyes families want to

sell The Star?

McGrory: It was not making... It was losing money, I believe. It was losing money.

Currie: Why don't I put this over here?

McGrory: Okay.

Currie: This is great. And Allbritton was the, was the angel in this instance?

McGrory: Right?

Currie: And so basically, thanks to your ability to sing, you saved it for a little while, at any rate.

McGrory: Yeah. Well, I almost lost it because I did that stupid thing of talking to The Post. But

then he came back. He came back. He owns the Riggs Bank now, you know.

Currie: Yes.

McGrory: He’s gone into less volatile situations for his enjoyment.

Currie: Well, but you did when the Pulitzer Prize.

McGrory: Yes. I did. I did.

Currie: During his … We can go back. That must have thrilled him.

McGrory: Oh, he loved it. Loved it. He gave me a beautiful Lalique vase. And the Pulitzer gives

you $1,000. And he gave me $1,000 besides. And it was very nice. And we had that wonderful

party.

The Post is very teetotal, you know. They won two Pulitzers last year. Two. And they didn't even

have champagne.

Currie: What did they do?

McGrory: They had soft drinks and cakes, which is what they do. We were not a temperance

paper. We were not. [laughter]

Currie: Well, here is that. And you can tell me a little bit about when they actually, you said you

got a tip from Tom Winship that you were getting it. Did you get an official notification?

McGrory: Yeah. I can't remember when. I can't remember when. That's when it's coming over

the AP wire.

Currie: That you won.

PAGE 52

McGrory: Yeah.

Currie: So who is this?

McGrory: That's Newbold Noyce right there.

Currie: He was still there or?

McGrory: No. He came back for it because he…. Without him, it never would have happened.

And there's Lissa Custer, who was, she was my secretary then. And, see, there I am at the

typewriter. Royal typewriter. And that's with all the….

Currie: There you are with about ten. Looks like about ten bottles. Yeah.

McGrory: And I remember I took a glass down to the security guard, because there was a nice

man there named Clarence, and they got the word when Nixon was going down. They got an

anonymous call that said, “If he goes, Mary McGrory goes too.” So, Clarence took that as a

personal challenge and escorted me to my car every night. There's Joe.

Currie: Oh, that's Mr. Allbritton?

McGrory: Yes.

Currie: So he had a party for you with the champagne?

McGrory: In the newsroom.

Currie: In the newsroom.

McGrory: We had a party here, too. And we had… Clark Clifford was here. I can't remember

who else. It was a lot of fun. Clark Clifford is a wonderful singer. And then they had a great big

cake, and the cafeteria made sandwiches, but they forgot to give them out. You know, just the

usual. Typical.

Currie: What does it say on the cake? Let me see if I can read it.

McGrory: Yeah.

Currie: McGrory wins, I believe. Well, it's a, it's a mockup of a front page.

McGrory: Oh, yeah.

Currie: Sort of, Sort of….

McGrory: Yeah. Yeah. That's right. Here's, here is…. Oh. I made a speech. Yeah. Monday.

Currie: Monday, May 5th, 1975.

McGrory: Yeah. And there is my dear friend John Cassidy, the national editor whom I love so

much. And there’s Jack Germond. And there’s Allbritton. And that’s me, because I had to write

that night as I have to write every night of my life. Yeah.

Currie: What did you say in your speech? Do you recall?

McGrory: I said it was all due to Jim Polk, who is now an investigative reporter for, I think, it's

ABC. No, NBC. And he was very nice to me. And he undertook to make the scrapbook for the

submission to the publisher. And he did a very jazzy one. I don't have it. I don't have the, the

scrapbook, you know, big circles and an arrow saying, first time anyone said this, and, you

know, he really jazzed it up considerably.

So I said that it wasn't what I wrote. It was Jim Polk’s scrapbook, which had won and was a

work of art and so forth. I think that's what I said. See. And they gave me there for Christmas.

That's one from the photo department. Yeah.

Isn't that.

Nice. That's really.

McGrory: Nice. Yeah I love this.

Currie: And then here's this. It looks like this huge banner across. You know I'm describing this

so, they'll have it. Yes. Congratulations. Mary McGraw in 1975. Pulitzer Prize winner. It looks

like it goes on forever.

McGrory: Yes. It was right across the middle of the newsroom.

Currie: And, then it looks like you have roses.

McGrory: Oh, yes. I forget, I think Joe probably sent those.

Currie: Huge.

PAGE 53

McGrory: Yeah.

Currie: More than a dozen, for sure.

McGrory: Right.

Currie: Was everyone out in the open like that in the newsroom? It looks like everyone's out in

the open in the newsroom.

McGrory: Oh, yeah.

Currie: Did you have an officer, or did you sit out?

McGrory: Yes, I did. I had a little office way in the back of the room. In the back of the room.

Currie: There you are, right. Yeah. There's a little. So what does, how did you feel when you

won the Pulitzer?

McGrory: Very good. Excellent. Excellent. And I liked it because you didn't have to make a

speech, and you didn't have to do anything. You didn't have to go anywhere. And they sent you

the check, and they sent you the notice in that nice blue folder. And that's all there was to it. You

didn't have to do a thing, which I deeply appreciated.

And I got letters and letters and letters, and the Italian ambassador sent his chauffeur around

with a bottle of champagne. It was a total plus, the whole thing. Loved it. Loved it. Got letters

from everybody, which I saved.

Currie: What do you think winning the Pulitzer does for someone's career? Or maybe your

career?

McGrory: Well, I don't know. As someone said, it solves the lead problem in your obituary. You

always mention the Pulitzer in your obituary, if you get it.

Currie: Did it change your life at all?

McGrory: It got me a parking space at the Senate.

I went on with Peter Jennings, whom I like a lot, hate television because I look terrible and I

sound terrible, and it’s not my thing at all. And it's the enemy besides, in a way. So Peter asked

me to come, and Peter and I became pals in Rome. He was then the Roman correspondent

[ABC News], and I went over because I'm not sure when Pope John died, but he died.

And then, they got the new one. So I was in and out, and Peter was very kind to me and gave

me rides in his, he naturally had his own limo and driver, and he gave me rides, particularly in

the ring. So, I felt beholden to him. And when he asked me to come on after I got the Pulitzer, it

was quarter of eight in the morning, and I was, I'm terrible in the morning. I don't know my

name. I don't know where I am. It takes me a long time to come back, and I'm sort of cross and

disoriented, and I couldn't think of a single thing to say.

And he asked me something about, well, he said, “You know, has this changed anything? And I

said, it certainly hasn't.” I said, “I applied for a parking space at the Senate, and I didn't get it,

and I still haven't gotten it.” The guys at the press gallery were listening to it, and they just

cracked up when they saw it, and they gave me a parking permit. So, I always say it did change

that.

Currie: Do you think it changed the way people regarded you?

McGrory: I don't think so. Those were the those were then. Oh, Gerald Ford did congratulate

me at a press conference, and then, I asked him if he was going to grant amnesty to Vietnam

protesters, as Philip Hart's wife, Jane, had just requested. And he said, “No,” but he did

congratulate me. And I thanked him. But I still asked the question.

So, I think they still thought I was difficult, and I don't remember any change. I don't know.

I mean, the people at The Star were always nice to me, and they went on being nice to me. And

I can honestly say I don’t remember any, any really dramatic difference.

Currie: Did it, did it make a difference for The Star then? For the newspaper itself?

McGrory: Newspaper still went down. No, they were terribly pleased. Everybody was very

pleased. I was so glad because we needed it, you know.

PAGE 54

Currie: Yeah. Well, it's so, it is the, I don't think I've interviewed anybody here who didn't say

they wanted one.

McGrory: Well, sure they'd be lying if they didn't.

Currie: Also, maybe I'd go back a little bit. I know that, I guess in some of the things that I've

read, they said around 1966, ’67, that you changed your mind about the Vietnam War?

McGrory: Yeah. It was really. Yes. That's right. That's right.

Currie: I, I wanted to ask you how that came about and how that affected your work, your

column?

McGrory: Yeah, well, I wrote about it all the time from that day forward. A, well, Eugene and

Abigail McCarthy were good friends of mine, and so was Robert Kennedy. And I remember

coming back from Italy, I guess it was ‘67. And I'd heard a great deal about it in Italy, the

bombing and all. And when I came back, I saw the stories. Lyndon Johnson was visiting military

bases. He couldn't go anywhere in his own country. Well, nothing's worse than when the

president can't go anywhere, and you could see it. No progress was being made. We just, you

know, take a hill and, and at a terrible cost. And then, the next day, or week, they would take it

back. We, we weren't getting anywhere.

And I remember going to see Robert Kennedy and saying that I didn't see how we could

continue this way, that the president of the United States couldn't go anywhere except under

armed guard. That his own country wasn't safe for him.

I indicated to him that I thought he should run. But he said he, he couldn't run. He said it would

split the party. And I said, “Well, I never thought the Kennedys cared all that much about the

party. You had your own party?”

He said, “I couldn't beat him.”

And I said, “Are you telling me that people would vote for Lyndon Johnson instead of you?”

And he said, “Well, if you want to know, my, my mother and my sisters agree with you.” And

anyway, then, you know, when McCarthy went in, you realized that there was nothing else to do.

Nothing else to do. I've never understood why Robert Kennedy didn't run.

Currie: You mean, early on?

McGrory: Yeah. He had the money. He had the backing. See, I had gone with him in ’66, I

believe it was. He made a tour of the country, and the further west we went, the more fervent

the feeling for him and the bigger the crowds. I can remember getting to, I think it was Oregon,

and, you know, it was midnight, and there were a couple of sisters standing there. A sign saying,

“Bobby now.” Towards the east, it was Bobby in ‘68. But this was Bobby now.

And then, I, of course, became acquainted with all the McCarthy young people. And they used

to come here. They never had any food, they never had any money. I made sandwiches.

So I was quite involved, and I did one thing I regret. I arranged a meeting between Henry

Kissinger and the three leaders of the peace movement, which was a total waste of time. And

I'm sorry I did it because I was just used.

Then, when they invaded Cambodia, he was telling people at Harvard where I, he, and I knew

the same people, that he was in constant touch with the peace leaders. And he had met them

several times at Mary McGrory’s house, which wasn't true at all. And that the condition was that

nobody was to say anything. And we kept our bargain. But he broke his word.

Currie: And was it at his behest that you arranged it?

McGrory: Yeah. And that happened here. We had David Hogg, who was facing indictment as a

draft evader. He was ready to go to jail. And Sam Brown. And I think it was John O'Sullivan. And

I can remember David Hogg, who was very handsome, with black curly hair, a swimming champ

from Cornell. They did not want to indict him. He was too articulate, and he was too clean-cut

and too high quality. You could never paint him as a, you know, member the effete core of

insolent, whatever. You know the Agnew …

Currie: Yeah.

PAGE 55

McGrory: … formulation. Anyway. He's very persistent. He said, “Mr. Kissinger, what would

happen?” Kissinger was talking about the Vietnamesation of the forces, and he thought that the

South Vietnamese could be trained, and could face the North Vietnamese, which, of course, he

said are the best light infantry in Asia.

And he said, “Well, what if it doesn't work?”

And he said, “Well, we will, we will. We think it will work. Alexander Haig has been over there

and studied it and said that they're doing very well.”

“Well, but what if it doesn't work?”

“Well, we think we have a hope of success,” he said, to….

“And then what will you do if it doesn't work?”

And he said, “I vill not tell you.”

And of course, what they did was try to bomb it off the map. But as I say, I was used. My own

fault. Because he, he told me he thought about it when it suited him.

Currie: How did he entice you into doing this?

McGrory: I went to Boston, which was my home, and I was taken to a party where there was

Harvard and MIT faculty members. I forget who took me. But anyway, we had a wonderful

evening. They were still very much pro-Kissinger. And they weren't sure. They were beginning

to wonder if he was serious. He used to go up there and con them blind about how, you know, of

course, they were going to end the war. Promise.

And so, I wrote a piece. I had asked for interviews with him, but never been granted any. I wrote

a piece saying that his old pals in Boston were beginning to wonder.

Well, by the time I got to the office, a general, his military aide, had called to arrange an

interview. So, we agreed that we would meet before the president's press conference this week.

So, he gave me a big song and dance about how he missed young people and how his

relationship with the students had been so wonderful and how he missed them and how he

would so like to talk to these young people, because he understood how well they felt, you

know, all that.

So, he asked me if I could arrange it, and I said, I thought I could.

And there was a lot of correspondence and a lot of promises about not, you know, total security

and this and that. And they gave me, [coughs] excuse me, here, and this was like all the other

conversations at that time. Him pretending that, of course, there was nothing in the world he

wanted to do more and couldn't wait to do it, and not doing it.

Currie: What do you think his real goal was?

McGrory: Co-opt people. Make me feel important that I was, you know, moving and shaking

and all that, I guess. I don't know.

Currie: I guess there would be some journalists who would say that you shouldn't have been

involved in doing that kind of thing.

McGrory: That is correct. That's what I'm saying myself.

Currie: Really?

McGrory: Oh, yes. I shouldn't have done that.

Because when people ask you to do that, they don't want to. They don't want to make

concessions. They don't want to talk about it. They want to make points, and they want to win

people over. And, and you shouldn't be party to it. Except I kept thinking, well, if they met Sam

and David, you know, it was wrong. It was a mistake. I shouldn't have done it. I've always been

very sorry I did it.

Currie: I guess that, that leads to a question of, you know, journalists feel that they need to

maintain distance to maintain objectivity. Do you think that's true for you?

McGrory: I guess theoretically it is, but practically it's impossible. I would say, because some

people do just like and they make you laugh and they’re fun and they're kind and all that. So you

just fall in with them, so to speak.

PAGE 56

Currie: Are there any ways that you have to, say if you're, you're doing a column, you have to

be aware of those feelings and try to compensate, I guess?

McGrory: Well, I, I most often agree with them. So it's not really a problem. I mean, I like

[Senator (D) Arkansas] Dale Bumpers a lot. But I thought he was wrong on the poison gas

question. And I wrote about that. And I found it difficult, but not impossible.

[Representative (D) Massachusetts] Tip O'Neill got very, very mad at me. Ooh, not speaking

mad, because I quoted him. I criticized him for doing that American Express ad coming out of

the suitcase, and he had a fit. Wouldn't speak, and then just mysteriously, he came up to me at

a, at a dinner, and he came up behind me and put his arm around my waist. He said, “Hello,

darling.” I said, “I thought you was…. I thought you were mad on me.” He said, “I was mad, but I

couldn't stay mad.” [laughter]

Currie: Oh. Oh. Now, when you changed your mind about the Vietnam War and started writing

against it, how did that affect your position at The Star? How did, how did they react?

McGrory: Oh, they didn't mind. When, when, when, when they invaded Cambodia,

I wrote it. There was a staff protest, and I went to Newby and offered to resign. Very dramatic.

And he said, “I don't care what you write. Just keep writing it for us.”

That's all. No.

Currie: Excuse me, but why would you offer to resign?

McGrory: Oh, because I was writing so totally counter to The Star editorials. And I was furious,

as I so often was with them.

Currie: For not changing their editorial position?

McGrory: Oh you.

Currie: Did you? You must have argued for changing it.

McGrory: Oh, of course, they wouldn't. I wouldn't.

So that's why when people suggest you have influence, I, I laugh. I mean, I couldn't influence

my own editor, and I, you know, I wrote about the Vietnam War practically every day for however

many years until it stopped and didn't seem to, had not the slightest effect on the government,

and the government had sufficient popular support to keep it going.

So, I am very dubious about influence. At least my own.

Currie: Do you think the press played a role in ending the Vietnam War?

McGrory: Maybe some. The United States Senate played a role in ending the Vietnam War.

Finally, finally.

I had a young relative whom I had never met, a relative by marriage. His name was Connery.

Jackie Connery and I never met him, but he was a Marine, and he was 19 years old, and he

was killed in a truck accident. And they told me that the night of his wake, when they, as is the

custom in some places, they sit up all night.

There was a boy, a very handicapped boy, who came and sat by the coffin and could not be

moved. He was too young to be up that late, but he just, he insisted, so they let him stay. It

turned out that this lovely boy, who was dead, had organized the children on the block to play

baseball, and he would never let them play without including this child, this handicapped child. I

said, “We, we need people like this. We can't afford to kill people like that. I mean, what are you

doing?”

So it affected me very, very much.

Currie: And I know you wrote a column about that.

McGrory: I did?

Currie: Yes. Or at least I read that you wrote it.

McGrory: Well I, you know, I've written so much I, I could have written anything.

Currie: Well, I know, I mean four columns a week for the last. God knows how many know.

McGrory: Three now.

Currie: Three. Enough.

PAGE 57

McGrory: Yeah.

Currie: Yeah. I know I worked briefly at a small syndicate, and we were always getting people

who wanted to be columnists. You know, they would call in and say or write, send some of their

examples. And it always struck me that they might have three or four ideas, but that was about

it. And that it's hard to sustain a column.

McGrory: Yeah, but people come through. I mean, it is, it is very difficult. But you can trust

people to come through. You know that you can read about in the paper that something

surpassingly stupid will be done, or said. And then, then you have things that you're constantly

interested in, like Star Wars. I'm very interested in Star Wars, because I think it's just plain nutty.

And we keep spending billions, billions, and billions of dollars. So, I keep an eye on that.

Then, I write foreign policy stories about countries where we have intervened, or have a stake,

or something like, I would always write about Nicaragua. I would always write about Vietnam. I

write about Cambodia. I’m the only person in the hemisphere, practically, who writes about

Cambodia. But we did that to Cambodia, and we owe those people, and we're behaving very

badly again, still. So those things are always floating around.

What else am I interested in? Well, foolishness of any kind always intrigues me.

Presidential politics, I find absolutely riveting. Particularly this year, when it was supposed to be

boring. I just find it riveting. I can't wait to get the paper every morning. You know.

“George Bush has to dump Dan Quayle.”

“George Bush can't drop Dan Quayle.”

“Clinton and Gore are a sensation.”

I mean, all these things keep exploding all around you.

Now, tomorrow I'll write about a hearing. I went to one Star Wars, and SDI keeps contracting out

work instead of giving it to their own civil servants. They contract it out, sometimes cost $800 a

day, and so that's just fine for me. That gives me a chance to go into that whole subject again.

And then out from there, I went to the Senate, and I heard Robert Dole waging a ferocious

campaign against Bill Clinton, and I heard [Senator, (D) ME] George Mitchell answer him and [

Senator, (D) MD] Paul Sarbanes stand up with charts, and [Senator, (R) WY] Alan Simpson, all

that is grist.

Then I saw those people, the, the M.I.A. P.O.W. family meeting with Bush.

Currie: Yes.

McGrory: And they were telling him that he should go over there. Now I'm turning this over in

my mind. Should he go over there? And I think he might as well. He's not doing himself any

good here. And he should do things that Bill Clinton can't do. Bill Clinton can't go over and

negotiate with the government, and he maybe could clear it up. Maybe he could say to the

Vietnamese, I want an absolutely final accounting. And upon it, I will recognize your government

and send a trade delegation. Why not? It beats bombing.

Currie: Absolutely.

McGrory: So, that's sort of a crazy idea, but I'll fool around with that, maybe. And, you always

have to be thinking ahead.

Currie: You've got about five or six tracks going.

McGrory: No, I got three. The bad day for me is Wednesday, when there’s gridlock in my head,

because I have to write for Thursday. But I have to have a little running start on my Sunday

column, which I have to file for the syndicate by Thursday. So, that's a very swirly day for me.

I'm, I can, I get dizzy with the ideas running around in my head.

Currie: Have you ever missed a deadline?

McGrory: I did once, but it wasn't serious. It was when John Anderson was defeated in 1980.

I think I made the second edition.

Currie: That's a pretty good record.

McGrory: I don't think it's bad.

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Currie: I think it's great.

McGrory: When you're like a pit pony, you know, you go round and round and round and you

know you have to do it, you know? It's very stiffening, like a corset keeps you in line.

Currie: I can imagine. It's…. Maybe now is a good time to talk about when The Star was sold,

by Allbritton to Time Inc.

McGrory: Yeah.

Currie: Could you tell me a little bit about that?

McGrory: Well, we were hopeful. We were so glad that we were going to stay alive.

Currie: And that was 1978?

McGrory: Yeah. But Murray Gart was a man of Time. He, his heart was there, and I think his

mind was there. We were sort of like, you know, it was like a Roman general in a province or

something. I mean, not our happiest time.

Currie: Why did Allbritton decide to sell The Star? I know you'd saved it once before.

McGrory: I don't know. I don't know. Maybe he got seriously fed up. Or maybe he saw a chance

to make a profit. He was, is a businessman, after all. I don't really know, so I shouldn't say.

I'll ask Duncan Spencer tonight.

Currie: Okay. But how did you feel about Time buying The Star?

McGrory: Great. Going to stay alive. Didn't work out, though.

Currie: What, what happened to…..

McGrory: Well, we just kept losing circulation and ads, and, you know, people get fed up with

you, and they're not sure if you're going to exist. They won't make long-term advertising

contracts. And, I think Murray thought we were just rubes, that we didn't know anything about

anything. And he brought in Henry Luce's desk. Didn't work out.

Currie: How did Time change The Star? If it did at all.

McGrory: Every now and then, we had to write a big, long feature about some exalted Time

personage. Is somebody looking for me?

[Tape pauses]

Currie: So basically, I was asking you what changes The Star. What, what changes did Time

make to The Star? And you said….

McGrory: Oh, they had lots of bureaus, and they're going to have special sections. And they

brought in the computers.

Something I should ask Duncan Spencer about. I had sort of lapses of my memory.

Currie: Everyone does. You actually have a very good memory.

McGrory: Well, for some things.

Currie: How did Time buying The Star change your life?

McGrory: Oh, Murray put me on the op ed page. I had been on page three, and he took me off

there, and that was, I hated that because there was a different space count every day, and they

never knew what it was going to be. So, I spent a great deal of time raging and fuming, and

not a happy time.

Currie: Did, did they want you to write your column any differently or …?

McGrory: Oh, no. No, it was just never in the cards. No.

He invented a new columnist named Judy Bacharach, who was very good. And I think,

I think he had the hope that she would replace me in some way.

Currie: Replace you?

McGrory: Well. I don't know what he had in his mind. She was very good, very witty, very good.

A very facile writer. She was good. And, so she came in for that ‘84? No, not ’84, the paper was

finished in ‘81.

Currie: So let's see, ‘78. They brought it. They bought it?

McGrory: Yeah.

Currie: So I have it was finished in ‘81.

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McGrory: Yeah. No, it was in the, in the ‘80 campaign. And he had her do a daily political

column, and I think you know, I think he thought she was better than I was, and he may well

have been right. Anyway, not our best time.

Currie: It's, well, it's been written in subtle, maybe not so subtle ways that you really didn't like

Murray Gart very much?

McGrory: That is quite true. Quite true. He was very interested in the social scene, which is

okay. And, it's just a different attitude, a different sort of person. A little power struck, we always

thought.

Currie: Did the camaraderie of the, the staff that you talked about change, or… How…?

McGrory: I remember a Christmas party. He did not come to our newsroom Christmas party,

which we thought was rather symptomatic about the way he felt. He was up in New York at the

Times headquarters.

And he came in very late, about 6:00, and we had all been wustling and caroling and all, and I

remember Jonathan Fuerbringer. Murray came and sat in a chair in my office, and I was saying

how we wished he had come and so forth. So Jonathan Fuerbringer came, and he had a jug of

red wine on his shoulders, carrying it like a Greek wine boy. And he leaned over to give Murray

a glass, and alas, it went all over Murray’s beautiful pinstripe suit, which caused, I’m sorry to

say, enormous juvenile hilarity among all who viewed it and all who heard about it. And that was

about the way it was. And.

Currie: Why? Why do you think that? It sounds like it was the two who just never meshed very

well.

McGrory: Well, he wanted to, he was very much into national security and stuff like that, and

wanted Jim Dickinson to be a national security columnist and used to send top secret memos

and all that kind of stuff, which was very alien to us. I guess it was part of the, the gestalt of

Time Magazine, but it wasn't our style.

Wish I could remember more particulars now, but we've been, we plunged so far back that I

can't get my mind up there.

Currie: Oh, sorry.

McGrory: It's okay. You had to do that.

Currie: Maybe, let's see. Let me think of some ways in which I might spark something. Did you

remember, for example, the first time that you met Murray Gart?

McGrory: No, no.

Currie: Did you, did you think about during this time, leaving The Star? Since it doesn't sound

like it was….

McGrory: No. I guess you can say, I thought about it for the first time. But those people, there

were still those marvelous people. Those dear people and leaving them….. I thought, you know,

their feelings might be hurt, and I'm glad I stayed till the end. I'm very glad I stayed to the end.

Never regretted it for a minute. Even then, it was incomparable.

Currie: Maybe you can tell me about how the end came for you.

McGrory: We thought they had committed themselves to a longer time. And, oh, we were very

angry and very upset, you know, the way you would imagine you would be.

Currie: When did you get your first inkling that, that maybe The Star wasn't going to survive?

McGrory: I remember a phone call from an old friend offering condolences, but I can't

remember whether it had gone on the wires. I'll know more when I talk to Duncan tonight. I'll

know. I can tell you that I can fill that in for you.

Currie: Okay. Great.

[Tape ends]