The dream dies (The National: Part seven)
Robert Dominguez makes up the final page one, for The National.
No overtime minutes
The National folded on a Wednesday as I was working on a page three graphic for Friday, two days away. After Deford’s newsroom bomb about our demise I suddenly had nothing to do, and neither did a lot of other people. Still, there was Thursday’s paper to get out.
And that’s when we entered The Twilight Zone.
While a large part of the staff, led by Van McKenzie, was working through their shock and tears, other people, who suddenly had a lot of free time on their hands, were beginning to form groups and talk about what had happened. An odd, collective camaraderie-of-the-jobless-in-denial was beginning to take hold within these groups and after awhile there was laughter and joking.
(Under “Coping psychology” Wikipedia says: “…People may alter the way they think about a problem by altering their goals and values, such as by seeing the humour in a situation.”)
Before long these idle people were getting in the way of the unfortunate ones who still had to work and who weren’t able to manage their emotions. No one, it seemed, wanted to leave 666 Fifth Ave. because it meant saying hard goodbyes, not just to friends, but also to The National.
The dream that was a nation-wide sports daily had become reality and brought us all together. It had been intense, and a lot of fun. People wanted to prolong the experience for as long as they could. I recall looking around the newsroom, taking it all in, the way a condemned criminal takes a last look at birds in the sky and sniffs the air. As soon as we left the place, it would all go away. Forever.
Champagne started magically arriving as a party atmosphere took hold. Some people were celebrating The National’s short, but great, ride. Toasts were given. But others were feeling sad and afraid and not in the mood to celebrate anything. Most people who came to work for The National had given up great jobs at their papers back home, sold their houses and moved their families to New York City because they had wanted to be a part of something new and special. Now, within a very short time, they were out of work and facing uncertain futures.
The partying that night was causing resentment in many. A few people just left, and I never saw them again.
But, I think that the people making toasts were afraid, too. I know I was. Dorsey was now eight months pregnant with our first child and I had no idea what I was going to do next. I called home and said, “Hi hon, guess what? No more National.â€
Dorsey replied, “Hey, at least you’ll be home when I have this baby!â€
And I was.
The End.
(Thanks, Van, for the memories)
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Some links about The National:
Inc. article by: Edward O. Welles
http://thenationalsportsdaily.blogspot.com/index.html
http://www.sportsjournalists.com/forum/index.php/topic,36807.175.html
February 11th, 2007 at 4:42 pm
karl… i really loved reading your memories of The National (although, ultimately, sorry for the reason). You are such a descriptive and graceful writer.
February 11th, 2007 at 10:42 pm
Karl,
I too worked at The Nash, as many of us called it…I was a freelance photographer staffer Tony Casale brought in under his wing back in 1990. I reported to Cecilia Bohan and Eileen Miller on the photo desk, and of course, Don Norkett who was in charge of imaging. I took the (then) famous photo of Steinbrenner with his mouth open outside Yankee Stadium when he was forced out as owner.
When the legendary Neil Leifer came on board as Director of Photography, he cut out using freelancers for local jobs that were being coverd by the wires. Needless to say, I was out - but I continued my other gig as an AP freelancer. On that fateful Wednesday the announcement came down, AP sent me to the office (think it was the 5th floor?) to cover the mood. I recall seeing the original “WOOD” of: “THE FAT LADY SINGS” with a graphic of a large woman, very reminiscent of Bill Gallo of the NY Daily News.
I recall introducing myself to Frank Deford as someone who used to work for him. He told me there would be a lot more people inthat predicament the next day.
My relationship with Nash people continued when I found a staff photographer position 4 months later with graphic srtist Amy Catalanao and photo lab tech Trish Wall @ the Asbury Park Press in NJ. Don’t know where Amy is, but Trish is at The New York Times and I’m a picture editor at the NY Post.
Man, We Had A Ball!