The Solomon Scandals A Washington newspaper novel by David Rothman

27Feb/102

The Washington Post, Sally Quinn and the Mink Stole Ladies: How much VIP-watching is too much?

image How closely should the world fol­low VIP jour­nal­ists and politi­cians and—for that matter—celebrities in general?

“News­pa­pers spend too much time explain­ing them­selves.” So  said Mar­cus Brauchli, exec­u­tive edi­tor of the Wash­ing­ton Post; and a media watcher even gave the pro­nounce­ment a name—the Brauchi Doc­trine. Look, Mar­cus. Your paper is in decline for the moment despite some bright spots; but essen­tially it’s still a pow­er­ful monop­oly daily at the metro level, trad­ing off the fame of its writ­ers or at least its Water­gate-glo­ri­fied self. Why the devil shouldn’t the Wash­ing­ton City Paper and the rest keep call­ing up the Post on var­i­ous top­ics? From all signs, Barnes & Noble won’t even stock The Solomon Scan­dals unless the Post reviews it. Even with the sacred names of Chan­dler and Ham­mett invoked, an enthu­si­as­tic City Paper write-up by a Yale lit major just didn’t count (Post bypass infor­ma­tion here).

I’m end­lessly amused when cer­tain VIPs at the Post and else­where com­plain of too much pub­lic­ity. Come on, guys. On the whole you love it—if noth­ing else, as a reminder you’re still alive. 

image image That’s partly why I’m sym­pa­thetic toward Sally Quinn even though I wish she’d stop defend­ing her wed­ding col­umn about her “dys­func­tional” fam­ily. As a jour­nal­ist she is more com­mit­ted to dis­clo­sure than Brauchli appears to be. Emer­son be damned, here’s to Ms. Quinn and con­sis­tency! Media crit­ics, blog­gers, nov­el­ists and other info-parasites—mea culpa—should join me in my quixotic call for a Quinn at Large col­umn for both the print and elec­tronic edi­tions. Some­times pri­vate and pub­lic lives should inter­sect. What if the Sally Quinn of the 1980s had been on the trail of John Edwards, a liv­ing, breath­ing Scan­dal who almost ended up A Heart­beat Away?

The other side: The Mink Stole Ladies Syndrome

image Despite the above, I can also see the VIPs’ side, and I agree with Carol Joynt on the need to fac­tor in “col­lat­eral dam­age” to peo­ple writ­ten about, both celebri­ties and the obscure. What I’m really call­ing for is bal­ance. As Exhibits A and B for the Joynt view­point, may I intro­duce to you Mink Stoles One and Two from The Solomon Scan­dals? They’re sub­ur­ban­ites at a party that a some­what Quin­nish columnist—no, not the Quinn—has thrown for “name-in-the-paper peo­ple” and those a few lev­els below. The Mink Stoles are jab­ber­ing away sev­eral decades ago, but the same scene could just as eas­ily unfold in the PETA era. An excerpt follows.

I went to get myself a drink from Wendy’s bar, but instead stopped to over­hear two fat women in mink stoles. They looked like clones; even the folds in the dou­ble chins matched. Both wore Elkins hairdos.

“It’s absolutely dis­grace­ful, the way she car­ries on,” Mink Stole Num­ber One was say­ing about an unnamed person.

“You’ve heard the pony story, haven’t you?” asked Two.

One shook her head.

“It’s sort of ancient,” said Num­ber Two, “but it gives you an idea of why she’s so mixed up. She fell off this pony one day when she was lit­tle, and the fam­ily didn’t even see if she was hurt. They just ordered her back on. Tough, demand­ing people—both par­ents. She must have been starved for affec­tion. So you can see why she’s so mixed up.”

“I’m glad she’s not mixed up with my daugh­ter,” sighed Mink Stole Num­ber One.

“I bet she’s on drugs.”

I was about to think it might be Wendy when one of the hus­bands mate­ri­al­ized and presently asked whom the women were gos­sip­ing over.

“Why, Car­o­line Kennedy.”

“You know her?” asked the hus­band, a small, timid-sounding man who belonged to Num­ber One.

“Well, not exactly,” said Num­ber Two. “But you hear things.”

I’d spent years in McLean with­out meet­ing one Kennedy, and yet this woman spoke in the tones of a dis­ap­prov­ing next-door neigh­bor. I won­dered which tabloid was the source of her malarkey.

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24Feb/100

Sally Quinn’s ‘Party’ column dropped from print: Shades of LBJ’s Hoover surprise for her husband?

image LBJ was about to replace J. Edgar Hoover as FBI direc­tor when word leaked to Newsweek. So what did the White House do to spite the Ben Bradlee, then at Newsweek’s Wash­ing­ton bureau? Reap­point Hoover, of course.

Now the reverse has hap­pened in a sense to Sally Quinn, Bradlee’s wife and doyenne of the George­town party cir­cuit, in the wake of her con­tro­ver­sial writeup of a wed­ding gaffe.

Con­trary to com­mon expec­ta­tions, includ­ing mine, based on Ms. Quinn’s tight friend­ship with the own­ers of the Post, she lost her “Party” column—or at least the ver­sion that counts on L Street, the print incarnation.

With rare excep­tions, she’ll “Party” on just in cyber­space. And the col­umn must “return to what had been its orig­i­nal focus on faith, fam­ily and enter­tain­ing.” As reported by Erik Wem­ple at the Wash­ing­ton City Paper, that’s the word directly from Post Exec­u­tive Edi­tor Mar­cus Brauchli. The Hoover parallel—my lit­tle twist—is appro­pri­ate given Sally Quinn’s stand­ing as a Wash­ing­ton insti­tu­tion just like Hoover. No spite-the-prophets fac­tor, per­haps. But a sur­prise just the same.

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4May/090

Washington novels: A few uppity observations, plus a guide to D.C. fiction guides

imageWash­ing­ton, D.C., is a per­ilous place about which to write fic­tion. In more than a few of the guides to D.C. fic­tion, a major premise is that the Great Wash­ing­ton Novel has yet to be writ­ten or has already been writ­ten. Uh-oh. And no pleas­ing every­one. One stu­dent of the genre holds up Allen Drury, of all peo­ple, as the best Wash­ing­ton nov­el­ist of the past sev­eral decades.

I’ll let oth­ers judge the worth of The Solomon Scan­dals, which actu­ally is both a D.C. novel and a North­ern Vir­ginia Jew­ish one. But mean­while I’ll find a lit­tle solace in a Sean O’Casey’s ver­dict on P.G. Wode­house, what­ever O’Casey’s intent: “Eng­lish literature’s per­form­ing flea.”

imageWash­ing­ton itself is a flea cir­cus in var­i­ous respects, a place full of fun­gi­ble drones, often lorded over by Hol­ly­wood­ish ego­ma­ni­acs. Some of the back-bench pols and scribes may not even be up to pulling minia­ture carts, whether hitched solo or in groups. With luck, maybe I can budge mine at least a few inches.

The cur­rent hope of cer­tain lit pun­dits is that with a more lit­er­ary pres­i­dent in the White House, the town’s fic­tion will improve. I’m not so cer­tain. Did JFK really inspire a lit­er­ary Camelot?

Found­ing Fathers of the genre

imageHenry Adams (photo), author of Democ­racy, pub­lished in 1880, is often depicted as the George Wash­ing­ton of D.C. nov­el­ists, the Found­ing Father, the first one who counted, even though an obscure New Eng­land writer named John W. De For­est and a not-so-obscure Mis­sourian with the pen name of Mark Twain were work­ing D.C. turf in the pre­vi­ous decade. I have no doubt that oth­ers came before these three and will wel­come names from readers.

Adams him­self was a descen­dant of the Adams fam­ily and writes with accom­pa­ny­ing snob­bery and anti­semitism, com­plete with a depic­tion of an Evil Jew from Europe, the leer­ing Baron Jacobi.

In Democ­racy, Adams’ real pro­tag­o­nist is Made­line Lee, a neu­rotic socialite, relo­cated from New York and caught between a wor­thy and not-so-worthy suitor. But along the way we meet many D.C. arche­types, includ­ing a provin­cial Bush-like pres­i­dent. Of course, dis­tinc­tions abound even among the arche­types. George W. Bush is is dumb-pseudo-provincial despite his Yale degree, for exam­ple, while LBJ was smart-genuine-provincial even though he had grad­u­ated from only a small teachers-college.

Today’s stars

imageWho are the stars of D.C. fic­tion today? Many would place Christo­pher Buck­ley (photo) in the top tier of pop­u­lar nov­el­ists. I myself have enjoyed such works as Booms­day regard­less of our dif­fer­ent polit­i­cal beliefs. For what it’s worth, Buck­ley did not begin pub­lish­ing his D.C. satires until the 1986, years after I com­pleted the first draft of The Solomon Scan­dals, orig­i­nally titled The Cover-Up.

imageMany insid­ers would rate Ward Just as the pre-eminent author of con­tem­po­rary D.C. fic­tion, in terms of both the qual­ity and quan­tity of his pro­duc­tion. You sup­pos­edly can’t find his nov­els in Bal­ti­more, but per­haps peo­ple out­side The Belt­way will catch up.

The detec­tive writer George Pele­canos is also rid­ing high right now with many crit­ics because of the skill with which he is said to write about D.C. as a series of neigh­bor­hoods. His Wash­ing­ton isn’t sim­ply an incon­se­quen­tial back­drop for the maneu­ver­ings of—well, the kinds of char­ac­ters you’d find in Allen Drury’s books.

The rep­u­ta­tion of Gore Vidal, author of Wash­ing­ton, D.C. and other books in his Empire series, lives on. Some crit­ics would point out, he is far more inter­ested in the élite than in the city as a whole, but Vidal is more inter­ested in writ­ing for Vidal than in fit­ting any­one else’s cri­te­ria for D.C. lit­er­ary greatness.

Susan Richards Shreve, in Chil­dren of Power, set in the McCarthy era, made an impres­sion on me years ago, but appar­ently on not enough others—the Ama­zon rank is in the mil­lions. Too bad. Haven’t I read some­where that pol­i­tics is like the Mafia? You can’t sep­a­rate job from Family.

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