by Glynnis MacNicol
ETP was thrilled to attend this week's Ellies, the magazine world's annual awards ceremony honoring their very best, depending on who you ask and how bitter they're feeling. By now, you have been under a rock if you don't know that New York magazine positively dominated — an accomplishment that seems, sort of unfairly, to have been taken as an aspersion cast on the New Yorker, which led the field with an impressive nine nominations but was roundly shut out ("round" as in "zero"). New York beat out the New Yorker in only one category — they were only pitted against each other in two — so, hey, it seems a tad churlish to beat up on poor David Remnick. Call us Polyannish, but we think the New Yorker should still feel pretty good about the work that was honored, as should all of the other pubs. Hell, we do - we got a great night of dress-up and free champagne out of it! (Which may go towards explaining why this is a day late, but hey, if we learned nothing else from the Ellies we learned that excellence matters.) Either way, below you'll find our takeaway — the various collected observations, meanderings, and scary Anna Wintour run-ins, straight from our spectacular, panoramic, best-seat-in-the-house vantage point, with a perfect view of the top of the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists people's heads. Enjoy!
We admit it: We were excited for the Ellies. EX-CI-TED! Awards shows are FUN and it's even more fun to see normally be-jeaned editors/publishers/groupies dressed up in tuxes and gowns, mixing and mingling across genres and functions from Glamour to Salt Water Sportsman to editors, writers, designers and the "business people" who are so sweetly tolerated. Indeed, we may even have been a bit intimidated but we shouldn't have been; this was, after all, the Ellies of the Underdog, where Departures beat Newsweek and The Paris Review won for Photojournalism of all things, and yes, the New Yorker won nothing and New York won everything and "Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists" was on everybody's lips, even if they couldn't say it ten times fast.
For us, that theme started at the top of the night when our dallying before the show paid of unexpectedly in a rare Anna Wintour sighting (yep, she was there). Looking positively emaciated (hot!), bobbed to knife-edge perfection, and with a touch of fur about her shoulders, she stood alone, left briefly by someone in a dark suit — no doubt hoping we'd bust on up to her and ask for a photo, to which she said "Great" in a way that could only mean "Please go away."
We got out of her way, and began the long trek up to the very top-est, very back-est, very nose-bleed-est seats in the house: Right Balcony, Row E. Clearly the Magazine Powers That Be wanted us to be able to catch ALL of the action. And catch it we did, especially after realizing that the seating chart put various winners from - hmm, how to say this? - lesser-known publications up near us (btw "lesser known" apparently includes The Paris Review, as somewhere, George Plimpton slowly spins). One could almost judge the ASME's respect for the pub relative to how long it took the editor in chief to get to the stage: Graydon Carter was up there before they even finished reading the name of his mag. They'd get to "Vanity" and he was at the podium, just hanging out, waiting, while the guy from Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists might as well have taken a cab to the stage, then tried to expense it, but felt too guilty and just paid out of his own pocket. Come on, ASME — tell us what you really think!
Anyway, maybe we're dorks,* but we sort of fell in love with Mark Strauss (the aforementioned Editor of the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists), when, after snagging the General Excellence under 100,000 award, the first line out of his mouth was, "Really, it's a terrible name for a magazine." With that, he didn't just win an award — he won our hearts. And perhaps 4 new subscribers.
From our vantage point, we got to see some of the best moments of the Ellies: The hugs and whoops of the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists team; the joyful reaction of Andrew Corsello's wife for his Ellie-winning feature in GQ (presented, no less, by Ira Glass, arguably the biggest-name celeb for this crowd) (except maybe Carrie Fisher; there were people from Wired in attendance); and the lightning-fast reflexes of Paris Review editor Philip Gourevich, who allowed himself only a quick fist-pump before darting nimbly out to the stairs, the long journey to the stages still yet ahead. Would they have stuck Plimpton in the cheap seats? One can't imagine.
The ceremony's saving grace had to be the winning editors' remarkably consistent brevity upon acceptance. No one, with the pointed and notable exception of an, er, seemingly focus-challenged Jann Wenner, rambled (Ed. I confess, I took an actual nap during his speech). Graydon, accepting two awards, literally said "thank you" for one, and, accepting for the work of Christopher Hitchens, told a story that has now seared the phrase "back, crack and sack" into the collective media consciousness. We will never forget it, and may possibly commission a tee-shirt to commemorate it. We'd wear it to the Waverly and order macaroni & cheese.
By now you are aware of the results, so we'll just share some observations:
Afterwards, everyone who didn't have to file (hi!) adjourned to the atrium, where the first-ever post-party awaited, with champagne and delicious sugary treats like marshmallows, brownies, rice krispy squares, and strawberries meant for dipping into the equally sugary chocolate fountains, plus an artisenal cheese table.** Tempting, but after being chastened by Anna Wintour's mere presence, we instead turned to Beliefnet.com editor Stephen Waldman, who took home the Ellie for General Excellence Online. We cornered him and asked about his religious beliefs: Christian, Jew, ironic atheist? "Not relevant," he told us. We were confused. It seemed pretty relevant to us! Did he think that the media world looked down upon faith? He nodded and said "This is a great step in the right direction." We were about to ask if he thought God might have rigged that category, but we got the sense that perhaps he wouldn't find that funny. Neither, we bet, would Christopher Hitchens.
Moving on, we spoke to presenter Aisha Tyler, who, as far as we could tell was a) 7 feet tall and b) indeed beautiful enough to be desired by both Ross and Joey. We weren't quite sure what her connection there was, though — but the list of magazines she subscribes to set us straight: Vanity Fair, Saveur, The Believer, Dwell, Ad Busters, and Glamour ("because I'm a contributor") (Aha! ASME president and Glamour EIC Cindi Leive = connection). We were impressed, and intimidated, and made a mental note right there to subscribe to The Economist (or, we guess, Wired. Zing!).
The Magazine Man of the Evening, of course, was New York editor Adam Moss. Although he ran out of staff to thank by the third of five acceptance speeches, his dominance of the event 
became truly undeniable when former ASME prez/Newsweek editor and just-named NBC SVP News Mark Whitaker declared him the "new David Remnick." Ohhhh, snap! It was hard to top "back, crack and sack" for most quotable line of the night but by God, Whitaker did it. Afterwards, Moss, attempting to balance the five statues precipitously for photos, practically glowed. "I'm genuinely shocked," he told us. And indeed, he did look genuinely shocked. Wenner, bouncing around with his "I would have committed ritual suicide if we hadn't won this, but I'm not a sore loser" Ellie, congratulated Moss in a vaguely paternal manner, after which Moss turned to us and explained, "I used to work for him. He's still under the impression that ..." "You're his editorial assistant?" we helpfully filled in. "That I'm his slave!" Moss grinned. "He almost feels like my property is his property. Really, we're all working for Jann." Er, yes, and you're just helpfully carrying his other five Ellies. (Other Wenner gossip: Apparently the Rolling Stone people in the audience were "all fidget-y and blackberry-y." We cannot confirm the intel; we were limited to the top of Philip Gourevich's head.)
The crowd by now had thinned — frankly our favorite part of the evening, because it's a good time to actually talk to people rather than "circulate." That is how we found ourselves - all three of ourselves - in an extended conversation with Time's managing editor Rick Stengel and Michael Weisskopf, who, while embedded in Iraq, lost a hand when he grabbed a grenade and threw it out of their convoy just in time. He now wears a hook, which he raised to audible gasps in the crowd in the course of presenting an award. It is sort of humbling to approach a man like Weisskopf, and we were acutely conscious of how much of our job entails commenting on 
the reporting of others, and commenting on the commentary arising from the reporting of others. He wrote his book Blood Brothers using a voice-activated computer program; we are still trying to figure out how to milk another joke out of Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists. The twain met in the form of us giving an impromptu tutorial to Weisskopf about Gawker, of which he'd never heard. He seemed fascinated by this brave new bloggy world. Stengel was too, but we all knew that; he said he thought the internet was "bigger than Gutenberg" (not Steve, Johannes). Said Stengel: "The power of distributive networks is almost like a biological process...You can be in Zanzibar and read Pilgrim's Progress!" (We were thinking of making an argument for Gutenberg, but we want to stay friendly with Rick, so we didn't put him on the spot.) He is very, very excited about Time's website, which he called "24-7 news for smart people," and said is striving to attract a different audience than the print version (which, of course, come with different advertisers. Hear that John Huey? He's thinking!).
By this time there really was no one left, but still tables full of snacks and a bar flowing with champagne, so when we bid adieu to our new Time BFFs we hunkered down for one last round with the true stalwarts, the NYP's Keith Kelly and MarketWatch's 
Jon Friedman, who, as it turned out worked on their college paper together. Aw. Kelly imparted the secret to good business reporting: Quote very heavily from your sources. (Portfolio! Listen up!) It really was very convivial, if completely and utterly empty (er, the Time Warner Center, not the conversation. That was deep, man). Finally, with one last longing look at the chocolate fountain, we went to get our coat — and had a lucky run-in with another winner, Georgia Review editor Stephen Corey with business manager Brenda Keen and writer Michael Donohue, whose excellent (and poignant) "Russell & Mary" won the essay Ellie (and who flew in from Beijing to do so! So it wasn't just the heavy award that was making his arms tired). It's too bad Christopher Hitchens didn't show up, we know he would have liked that one.
Spotted in the crowd, in no particular order: Radar's Jeff Bercovici, sporting a fresh new buzz cut, which means it must be summer; WWD's Stephanie Smith and Irin Carmon, looking typically lovely and fashion-forward; senior Esquire editors David Katz and AJ Jacobs, fresh-faced and unbearded now that he is done his Year of Living Biblically; David Remnick, spotted sticking around after the event at the cheese table, which was very classy, or maybe he just likes cheese; Time Inc's Jim Kelly approaching successor Rick Stengel and wrapping him in a big ol' hug (aw!); Gayle King, beelining for the exit in a swishy blue streak but very kindly stopping to say hello (and probably glad she did so when we complimented her on her fetching date to the WHCD, Newark Mayor Cory Booker, though apparently they are "just friends"; Gayle's other new friend, Men's Health EIC Dave Zinczenko who appeared with her on Oprah last week; Playboy editor Chris Napolitano with (we assumed) his wife; New York magazine co-founder and graphic designer Milton Glaser, who presented Adam Moss with the design Ellie in what was one of the nicest moments onstage; Vogue's flame-haired Grace 
Coddington along with Sally Singer in flowing brown and very high heels; flame-haired Ben Wasserstein of New York, with similarly-haired sister Pam; Allure editor Linda Wells sweeping in in long shiny black; Wondertime's Michelle Dozois, our dress-doppelganger; Village Voice "Press Clips" columnist Keach Hagey in a pretty, flowery strapless; AdAge lothario Nat Ives, lookin' reeeaaal classy; our seatmates, Jossip's David Hauslaib,*** the WSJ's Wendy Pollack, I Want Media's Patrick Phillips and Crain's New York Business's Matthew Flamm ; FishbowlNY's Dylan Stableford cleanin' up well to liveblog the festivities); Gawker's Doree Shafrir and Nikola Tamdazic, who we missed (alas) but know were there; and NYMag.com's Jesse Oxfeld, taking notes diligently from across the way in the balcony section. This section is what we like to call "Google Alert Bait." For those of you who came to this post in that way, well hello! Too bad Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, or Paris Hilton weren't in attendance. Goodnight!
*We are definitely dorks.
**Intrepid team member Glynnis MacNicol (or, as WireImage likes to call her, Gwyneth McGlynnis), quizzed a number of attendees on how they thought the event was different than last year and the unanimous reply was "not enough appetizers!" High marks for dessert, ASME, but you're sending your peeps into the show on an open bar and an empty stomach. FYI.
***All photos by Julia Allison and Glynnis MacNicol, except the one with Kevin Bacon, Cindi Leive and Edie Falco which we totally stole from Jossip. Thanks for the photo-poach, David! We liked your tie!
