Twenty years ago, during my decade as a news-magazine writer, I attended a whither-the-future-of-the-magazine Newsweek conference in Puerto Rico. What I remember from that confab (aside from my colleague from the Washington bureau who brazenly tried to filch my complimentary Newsweek bathrobe) was that then-editor Rick Smith talked about the competition from dominant Time and perpetual also-ran US News and declared, "By 2000, only one news magazine will still exist. I want it to be Newsweek."
What I love about that story, the accuracy of which I have confirmed with other Newsweek veterans, is that it lends itself to alternative meanings. It can be viewed either as a wrong-headed prophesy or an illustration that venerable, seemingly endangered, magazines still require a stake through the heart to kill them. This bit of Newsweek nostalgia came to mind when I read in the New York Times that the magazine industry is embarking on a neo-Gloria-Gaynor "I Will Survive" ad campaign to prove the enduring relevance of magazines as a with-it ad medium.
This try-too-hard ad campaign features fanciful magazine covers from the distant future, including a Newsweek from 2095 with such stories as, "Clones In the Military: Don't Ask -- Don't Tell" and a 2105 Sports Illustrated hailing the Chicago Cubs finally capping the World Series. The whole thing comes close to being clever until you start to picture a contemporary version of Look covering the Michael Jackson trial or this week's Saturday Evening Post taking you behind the scenes into Karl Rove's office.
In truth, the most telling sign that a medium is facing a time-limited future is when it feels compelled to loudly advertise that it will be around to gushily chronicle the second term of the Jenna Bush administration. So maybe next time, the Magazine Publishers of America should simply buy the rights from Stephen Sondheim for these lyrics:
Good times and bum times,
I've seen them all and, my dear,
I'm still here.