By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
Sources at Content say they were waiting for the inevitable call from V.F., but that by late March, when Conant filed her first draft, she had yet to interview Brill or any editors or staff writers. Not so, says a source close to Conant, who claims the writer talked to other staffers and tried repeatedly to interview Brill. At first, says the source, Brill asked Conant to hold the story for several months. Conant waited a bit, but when she called again, he refused to cooperate.
Brill tells a different story. He recalls that one day last January, a few hours after he called V.F. editor Graydon Carter to get a comment for a mildly critical item Content was printing on V.F., he got a call from Conant, who said, "Graydon's ordered up a story on how you guys are doing. He hears you have some problems." Brill says he suggested that Conant wait until the first audit of Content is published in September before assessing the magazine's financial status. By the time she called again, he says, it had become clear that she was going to give credence to the negative rumors. Asked whether Content is folding, Brill told the Voice he has enough financing to publish for five years, at least.
Vanity Fair publicist Beth Kseniak scoffs, "Steve Brill can't be serious. I can't believe the media watchdog entertains such paranoid theories about how magazines are run."
Kosovo to Hell
Two weeks ago, most of the foreign press corps stationed in Pristina, Kosovo, fled en masse, after Serb police pounded on some of their hotel doors with the butts of their AK-47s and ordered them out. Hacks on the run included correspondents from CNN, the BBC, and The New York Times, but when they were gone, one man was left standing: Paul Watson, a staff writer for the Los Angeles Times.
Last week, Watson gave the L.A. Times the honor of publishing dispatches under an exclusive dateline: Pristina, where he witnessed the evictions of ethnic Albanians firsthand. The New York Times covered the gap in its reporting by stationing journalists in Macedonia and Albania, where they could document the evictions through interviews with newly arrived refugees. Meanwhile, only two major U.S. papers, The Washington Post and Newsday, acknowledged the L.A. Times's exclusive by reprinting stories under Watson's byline.
By staying in Kosovo, Watson was privileged to all kinds of riveting details. For example, after Serb police killed human rights lawyer Bajram Kelmendi, the lawyer's widow talked to Watson at length, explaining how five uniformed men broke into her house and pointed rifles at her children's heads, before taking her husband and two sons away to be shot point-blank in the street. At the end of last week, when TV networks were showing footage of the U.S. POWs, Watson was offering expert analysis on how the Serbs had won the propaganda war so far.
Simon K.C. Li, foreign editor at the Los Angeles Times, declined to discuss the logistics of Watson's situation, saying that to do so would only "raise his profile" and further expose him to danger. But Watson's ballsy reputation precedes him: while stationed in Africa, the former Toronto Star correspondent reported on Rwandan massacres and watched a rapist get stoned to death in Somalia. In 1994, he won a Pulitzer for his photograph of a dead U.S. soldier being dragged through the streets of Mogadishu by a jeering mob.
So who is this guy? In a 1994 Maclean's interview, Watson explained how he came by the award-winning photo. Upon hearing that Somalis had a prisoner, he assembled a driver, an interpreter, and two guards with assault rifles to cruise the streets of Mogadishu looking for leads. They were about to give up, he recalled, "when my driver suddenly did a U-turn, because he'd seen a crowd down a side street."
Watson photographed the dead soldier on the ground, stripped to his underwear with his genitals hanging out. Then he jumped back in the car. But as they drove away, he realized that the genitalia was "the first excuse any editor's going to use not to run these things." He asked his driver to turn around, and when they found the crowd, "I just jumped out . . . and banged off six more. I was there no more than ten seconds when my guards physically pulled me back into the car and we sped off. The crowd was quite angry at that point."