ANY QUESTIONS?

Miami Herald, The (FL)
July 15, 1990
Author: GENE WEINGARTEN Herald Tropic Editor

A respectful interview of me, by me, on the occasion of my departure from Tropic:

Q: Where are you going? A: To The Washington Post, a newspaper in a city where people take themselves excruciatingly seriously and where, accordingly, journalists tend to tiptoe on eggshells. My job will be to strap on hobnail boots and dance the mashed potato. That is what my new bosses say they want.

Q: Have your new bosses really thought this through?

A: Obviously not.

Q: What will become of Tropic?

A: I will be succeeded by my good friend and colleague Tom Shroder, a gifted writer and editor who cannot spell. Tom will be succeeded by Bill Rose, a gifted writer and editor who cannot speak. Bill is from Mississippi and he communicates entirely in apostrophes and elisions. "Whap'm wawrn mawfannuh," he often claims, "bah-ahookin' wahr'pawrp'm." Nobody understands a thing Bill says, which means office discourse will remain primitive -- mostly grunts and hand gestures. Look for continued greatness from Tropic. Q: You seem to have a hard time expressing affection. Do you always use humor as a defense mechanism?

A: No, an offense mechanism. I have refined my sense of humor to an art, which is embodied in the message I have on my home answering machine: "We are not home right now. Please leave a message at the sound of the baby falling into the septic tank. Blub blub gurgle beeep."

Q: On the same subject, is there anything you have to say to all those people who have written in over the years to complain that Tropic is tasteless or offensive?

A: Yes. Every society needs its Thought Police. Thank you for your able assistance. And make sure you take care of that ulcer.

Q: Do you have any regrets?

A: Just one. In 1986, a writer named Marc Fisher submitted a 20-inch story to Tropic that read, in its entirety: "I hereby spare you from having to read an account of my tenth high-school reunion." The remainder of the story was white space. It was brilliant in its economy, and, like all literature, its point was clear but unstated: that journalism is plagued by self- absorption, that highly personal reflections tend to be maudlin, masturbatory, insufferable goo. We didn't run the story. I regret it to this day.

Q: Do you have any highly personal reflections, or inspiring words to say to your staff, for whose genius you consistently got credit; or to your employers, whose forebearance in the face of overwhelming pressures nurtured a creative, seditious, intellectually challenging atmosphere unseen elsewhere; or to the Tropic fans in South Florida who declared unambiguously with their letters and through their numbers that readers are smarter and funnier and more demanding of quality than many of us arrogant professionals once thought?

A: Naah.

Memo: FROM THE EDITOR
Section: TROPIC
Copyright (c) 1990 The Miami Herald