By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
Drudge's story was so gloriously dramatic it could have been a movie pitch: a former prostitute named Bobbie Ann Williams claimed that she had given birth to Bill Clinton's love child, Danny, as a result of a paid sex encounter in Little Rock in the 1980s. "I know it's his!" Drudge quoted Williams as saying. "He's the only white man I slept with that month!" Never mind that Clinton denied ever meeting her.
Versions of the story had surfaced before, but last week, Drudge led every dispatch on his Web site with a heavy-breathing teaser: any day, Star magazine would announce the results of DNA tests that would prove Clinton had done it with a black prostitute! Drudge must have known the story didn't meet the standards of the mainstream press, but he longed for it to be true. On January 6, after watching a Hard Copy interview with Williams, he wrote that the tape made it "immediately obvious" that "this is clearly not gossip, rumor, or anonymous charges being maliciously directed at a politician."
Four days later, Drudge pulled a screeching U-turn. After reading reports in the New York Post and Time that the DNA test came up negative, the Web wunderkind decreed that Williams's paternity claim "must now be viewed as a cruel hoax." He repeated what had seemed like compelling evidence the taped interview, the report that Williams had passed a lie detector test, the photo of a young boy who everyone said was a dead ringer for Clinton. Then Drudge concluded with a specious defense. "And while the elite media will bark that it was wrong to report the DNA chase that was unfolding behind the scenes," he wrote, "Drudge Report readers of all stripes have come to expect details on events rocking and shocking those unfortunate souls who rise to power!"
Uh-huh. In the same vein, Christopher Hitchens began his column in the January 1118 issue of the Nation with a little behind-the-scenes gossip about Henry Kissinger. The scene: at a party two years ago, a Nation colleague was introduced to Kissinger, who growled, "The Nation? So I suppose that to you I am a war criminal?" Nervous laughter ensued. When the leftie pointed out that, these days, the Nation was just as likely to call Clinton a war criminal, Kissinger deadpanned: "Mr. Clinton does not have the strength of character to be a war criminal."
It's a great story, beloved by journalists of all stripes. The Nation's Eric Alterman tells it often, as does New York Press publisher Russ Smith, a/k/a Mugger. Indeed, Smith helped put the story in play, misquoting it first in his New York Press column of January 612 and then in the short version of his January 8 column in the online Jewish World Review (headline: "DRUDGE IS THE HERO").
Only one problem, boys: Dr. Kissinger denies it. Through a spokesperson, he told Press Clips that the first quote attributed to him is correct, but the second is not, and the Nation never checked the story with him.
Ironically, the Nation published the Kissinger quip in the same issue as a Jonathan Schell editorial called "Land of Dreams" in which Schell laments the rise of a "new media machine" whose primary purpose is to entertain. One of the machine's characteristics is its preference for fantasy over reality, thereby giving journalists the "capacity to mistake a world of their own making for the real one."
Nation editor in chief Katrina vanden Heuvel says, "We stand by the story," and notes that Kissinger was speaking in jest.
The fantasy world is a big draw for book publishers, too. Especially for Nicholas Callaway, the president of Callaway Editions, which has offices on Bedford Street in the West Village. Founded in 1980, Callaway Editions is best known for its art books. But Nicholas Callaway is ambitious, and in the last few years he launched two new companies, Callaway & Kirk and Callaway Golf Media Ventures. One is a dream come true, the other, a nightmare involving New Yorker writers clamoring to get paid.
First, the dream. It features the work of children's-book illustrator David Kirk. Callaway discovered Kirk back in 1992, when the artist was running a toy store in Soho and had just landed a $5000 book contract with Rizzoli. Callaway offered him a $20,000 contract, and presto! the Miss Spider series became a Callaway bestseller. In 1996, the two men incorporated Callaway & Kirk, to better market Kirk's artwork.
The result, known as Nova the Robot, is a marketing concept involving dozens of characters with names like Ohm the Mule, Panic the Monkey, Filament, Yikes, Zik, Trang, and Ko. Here's the hook: The originals of Nova and his gang all exist in three-dimensional computer-generated imagery, or 3-D CGI, the same technique used in the movies Toy Story and A Bug's Life. And that means the menagerie can be replicated endlessly (and shamelessly).