New Yorker’s New Editor

The column by Clay Felker (“Be Prepared to Be Dazzled,” Commentary, July 6) exemplifies the myopic disability that has begun to pervade what some label as High Journalism.

Regardless of how greatly his wife has been helped by Tina Brown, Felker should not assume that the staff and readers of the New Yorker need such assistance. Tom Wolfe’s endless banalities aside, the New Yorker, as a weekly publication, still plays a role of vital importance for both writer and reader. While the New Yorker has always commented upon the several lively arts, it has primarily manifested itself as a magazine of the written word.

I do not want to pose as some wan reactionary, dismayed at the changing world while gazing from the veranda of the Rye Yacht Club, yet there are reasons for concern. First, one should realize that Si Newhouse, in Felker’s own words, is “looking for more payoff after five years of adherence to tradition.” “Roseanne” is a tremendously popular television program, but should it be aired on PBS? The Laker Girls can certainly dance, but should they advise the Kirov ballet?

Second, editors and, most especially, publications need to seek out an identity that extends beyond an individual decade. This “editor of the ‘90s” (Felker) attitude has severely compromised the quality of belles-lettres that are published in our nation’s major journals. Indeed, this constricted sense of time frays the fibers of the American psyche.

I am neither afraid of Ms. Brown nor change in general. Advancement is an inherent and desirable quality of the human condition. Unfortunately, this specific change is motivated by a relentless desire for an ever-increasing profit margin. There is nothing wrong with making a little money; yet when the primary goal is the widest possible circulation there is a necessitously generic shift. Worst of all, this burden is being hung upon one of America’s most venerable publications.

As a fellow writer, I can reluctantly comprehend Felker’s desire to position himself near the purse strings of today’s leading editors. Toward that goal, I can only wish that he had used a telephone and not the Commentary section of The Times.

CHRISTOPHER TYRONE

Los Angeles