The new society of the socialite

Does anyone care about socialites anymore?

There was a time when big-city newspaper readers could consume pages of type about the bluebloods, the committees they chaired, the swanky places they danced, dined, summered and wintered. Vanishing just as quickly are the bylines of once powerful society writers like Los Angeles Times writer Jody Jacobs, who died last week at age 82, taking with her an era of genteel gossip and old-money journalism.

People still want to know about the rich and trendy, of course, but over the last 20 years, society writing has shifted focus from the Dorothy Chandlers and Muffy Potter Astons of the world to the Paris Hiltons, P. Diddys and Jessica Simpsons. Whether this represents evolution or devolution is a matter of debate, but there’s no question it’s a fact of media life these days.

“Celebrities have completely eclipsed socialites in the interest of the reader,” said Joanna Molloy, who chronicles the misbehavior of what she calls “young socials” with her husband, George Rush, for the New York Daily News. “I have my hands full now with celebrities, going either to jail or to rehab or who are in car accidents. I don’t have the space for socialites anymore.”

Jacobs, who wrote for the paper for 15 years before retiring in 1985, covered parties and fundraisers and wrote profiles that appeared in what was then called the View section. An observer who was also part of the scene, Jacobs rarely took notes and often wrote from memory.

Charity events are still popular, but it’s hard to find anyone to cover them. “They’re so boring,” said Richard Johnson, who writes the New York Post’s “Page Six.” “Nobody wants to go. You have to get dressed up and listen to a bunch of speeches that are sanctimonious and self-righteous. Or hear horrible stories about a disease.”

Back in the day, he said, what mattered to readers was which clubs one belonged to, which prep school or college had been attended. “Now nothing matters except how much money you’re gong to give. What happened is that everything’s been corrupted by money, including society. In other words, standards have gone down.”

Most old-line society writers have either died or retired and been replaced by gossip reporters such as the New York Post’s Lloyd Grove, who says he writes “about flavors of the month,” which aren’t powered so much by society as by money. “There’s very little I cover that isn’t associated with a product or company or publisher or just put out by celebrities,” he said.

The West Coast, which once viewed old Hollywood, along with the city’s old-money families, as a form of royalty, has changed even more drastically. “You have more of a greed thing going on,” Johnson said.

As the definition of society has changed, much social coverage has migrated from daily newspapers to websites such as Gawker.com, entertainment shows such as “E!” or magazines such as In Style. Stories blur old distinctions between charity, gossip, business and nightlife, and they tend to fall into two extremes: fluffy fawning or nasty sniping.

It was different back then.

Public relations consultants and journalists recall the ‘60s and ‘70s in Los Angeles when white- and black-tie parties were held every week, and socialites from Pasadena, Bel-Air and Hancock Park fought over whose event would get coverage. “Society editors got a lot of nice things as thank yous,” said public relations consultant Joan Luther, 76.

News of an out-of-wedlock pregnancy, like Ingrid Bergman’s, was shocking then. Writers knew of personal and business scandals but rarely reported them until after the scoundrel died. Jacobs detailed the more cheerful or absurd events in lives of her regulars, once covering a party held by socialite Alice Cohn during which Cohn changed her first name to Contessa.

Now party coverage is focused on Hollywood, particularly on the big red-carpet events (the Oscars, Emmys, Golden Globes) along with all the pre- and post-soirees that go with them. Even trade paper Daily Variety has a social page that features photos of celebrities and executives at premieres and charity events.

A few longtime society writers, such as Liz Smith and Aileen Mehle, have evolved with the times. In her most recent “Suzy” column in W, a fashion magazine, Mehle still politely chronicled what socialite Nan Kempner wore to opening night at the Met but also dropped some snooty gossip about Nicole Kidman dating New Zealand multimillionaire Eric Watson (“who made his fortune selling office supplies -- how sexy”) Mehle, reportedly in her 80s, is admired by her youthful colleagues for her graceful put-downs, as subtle as a single paragraph ending word: “Please.”

“The great WASP aristocracy in the Northeast, the world of Edith Wharton and Henry James, has lost its function. It barely exists. Great fortunes are not like they were,” Smith notes. “The Rockefellers used to be a big deal. Their fortune has eroded over generations because there were so many heirs. Bill Gates doesn’t care about that world. The whole scene has been vitiated by the arrival of what I call overnight rock stars and people who make so much money they can make their own terms for society.

“I don’t resent the rise of this other entertainment faux society,” she added. “They’re rising to their moment. But I wouldn’t say it’s like dinner at Mrs. Astor’s.”

Still, there is plenty of interest elsewhere in the lifestyles and causes of the rich, if not quite so famous, judging by the spread of regional magazines such as “The Hamptons.”

“The reason to do them is simple. People love looking at the rich and famous and social. It’s a crowd pleaser,” said Spencer Beck, editorial director for Modern Luxury, a Los Angeles-based franchise for slick fashion and lifestyle magazines targeting Orange County, Chicago and Dallas as well as Los Angeles.

Betty Goodwin, former society editor of the Los Angeles Herald Examiner who also covered social events for The Times, now writes for Angelino and Privilege, a new publication about a new generation of socialites. “All the people I’ve written about have started their own charities,” Goodwin says. “They’re new faces on the scene, and there’s an endless supply.”

In Orange County, the “society press” has a strong presence at black-tie events, says Ruth Wardwell, director of public relations at Chapman University in Orange. Unlike the old-time society writers, they don’t need an exclusive or a scoop to lure them to an event, and they don’t have to ask who will be there -- they know almost all the donors. And they’re not all octogenarians. One socialite couple in their early 40s contributed $20 million to the college, Wardwell said.