Online Exclusive! Three Days in New York From the Harvard Club to KGB Bar and Beyond

Ever since George W. Bush took the oath of office on Jan. 20, the world has felt palpably different, like a change had taken place in the atmosphere. It went beyond no longer being embarrassed by the former tenant of the White House. No, something deeper was afoot. And then, suddenly, as the Fox News Channel droned on in the background as I worked last Monday, it hit me: The New York Times had, for the moment at least, abandoned its old saturation-bombing ad campaign, with suburban Gore-voting yuppies robotically heading for the phone to order home delivery of the paper. Now I know that much fun has been had with that campaign including in this paper's own pages, which eviscerated the cast of multicultural Times-readers but, if it's possible, what's been thought up to replace it is even more laughable.

In case you haven't seen it, the new ads feature a series of voices asking, "Why should I subscribe to The New York Times?" as herky-jerky film school cuts of images of the paper dance on the screen, followed by a variety of answers in different voices?kind of like the male-female duet that announces station stops and transfers on the MTA's new subway cars. After the question is asked for the first time, what would you guess the answer is? "Because it always questions the conventional answer." Now, for anyone who's even a casual reader of that paper, that statement is laughable; indeed, in recent years especially, The Times has become as predictable as the old episodes of Three's Company.

Just as viewers know that no matter what twists the writers throw their way, things will always work out for Jack, Janet and Chrissy by the end of the episode, Times readers know that, no matter what inconvenient facts need to be buried on page A-23 or back-handedly acknowledged in an editorial (to be followed by the words "despite all this," of course), 43rd St.'s good guys, in the form of Bill, Hillary and their pals will always come out okay in the end.

So it was looking for an antidote to the conventional wisdom that hovers over much of this town like smog over Los Angeles that I went down to the Harvard Club on 44th St. to attend a symposium hosted by the Manhattan Institute?publishers of City Journal, a quarterly that's quickly become one of my favorite reads?featuring David Frum and Christopher Hitchens and moderated by Sam Tanenhaus.

I later learned, the session was inspired by something Tanenhaus?who laid to rest, once and for all, any doubt that Alger Hiss was, in fact, a spy, and is now turning his biographical talents towards William F. Buckley Jr.?once said in New York Press that he would pay to see a debate between Hitchens and Frum. The topic was, more or less, the so-called end of partisanship, and whether or not the current obsession with having left and right work together was a good thing for the country.

Despite the vast gulf of opinion between Hitchens and Frum, I've always been a fan of both men; Frum for reasons of more-or-less ideological kinship and appreciation of his book that blames the 1970s for just about everything that's wrong with our country, and Hitchens simply because of his balls. Unfortunately, while the symposium was intended to guarantee a mixing-up of the two participants, the idea that American politics has become too obsessed with being nice was one that everyone in the room could agree upon. As a result, for the first forty minutes or so, comity ruled between Frum, who looked every bit the think-tank member in his gray suit and tie knotted up to his neck, and Hitchens, the central-casting Fleet St. hack, complete with the splayed collar and rolled-up sleeves of his royal-blue shirt with necktie hanging solidly at half-mast, both of which strained at his gut. Surprisingly, Hitchens' latest hit-piece, a two-part "indictment" of Henry Kissinger in Harper's that accuses the former Secretary of State of everything from manipulating the U.S. government to killing millions of Cambodians (Pol Pot managed to do a pretty good job of that himself with nothing but a little Parisian higher education on his side) didn't come up, though, with some prodding, he did manage to get off a few zingers in that sonorous British accent of his that so impresses American talk show producers.

So I went to bed that night reasonably enlightened, but without having seen the battle royale that I had hoped for, though I did fall into conversation during the reception beforehand with a former executive at Texaco, who reminded me of the famous "jellybean tapes" scandal, and the disgraceful journalism practiced by the Times during that period. I had forgotten that the infamous "tapes"?which purported to show oil executives talking about members of different races as jellybeans, something that is actually practiced regularly at corporate diversity training sessions?were actually transcripts provided by the lawyers of the aggrieved parties shaking down the deep-pocketed oil giant. Not that the Times saw fit to mention this at the time.

The following night, however, I was in a good mood as I headed downtown to the KGB Bar on E. 4th St., where I was emceeing a reading of writers from Ironminds.com. Ironminds is the "literary journalism" site I joined several months ago, back when it was owned by now-defunct Novix Media, a company that was run by now-defunct George magazine co-founder Michael Berman, who assured me and the rest of the world that they had $48 million in capital at his disposal. (They didn't.)

But the site has survived, and even thrived, and amidst the Soviet kitsch of the bar?it never fails to amaze me that the paraphernalia of a regime that was responsible for the deaths of, conservatively, 20 million people, can be thought of as "cute," while Nazi symbols and memorabilia, are, quite rightly, thought of as images of evil?two of our writers read, with several dozen people, including, coincidentally, much of the remaining staff of the Times' Web site that was not cashiered by Arthur Sulzberger Jr., enjoying drinks under the jutting jaw of Lenin. The readings were kicked off by Mike Bruno, the site's music columnist, who read two moving pieces about the deaths of some of his musical heroes, Stevie Ray Vaughan and Kurt Cobain. Bruno was followed by Will Leitch, who, just for the occasion, came up with a list of the thirty women he's kissed in his life, and devoted a paragraph to each.

As the chronology wore on, I was interested to watch a few young ladies nervously shifting in their seats? but, for decorum's sake, names were changed where appropriate. This was the second reading Ironminds has held, but they are going to become a tradition; the next one, also at KGB, is scheduled for February 15. Afterwards, I headed to dinner with site founder Andy Wang and Erin Podolsky, an occasional Ironminds contributor for dinner, and, in one of those wonderful moments that makes me love New York City, found a sushi bar, Choga on Bleecker St., that stays open way past midnight and even offers cold sake, a nice change from the warm turpentine too many other Japanese places serve.

The next day, Wednesday, was Chinese New Year, ushering in the Year of the Snake; Wang and I discussed heading down to Chinatown to take in the festivities, but since Rudy Giuliani cast a Cromwellian pall on the festivities by banning fireworks in 1997, we figured it wasn't worth the schlep. However, in keeping with the previous couple of days, the day brought new information about the behavior of the Clinton administration, even as Bush began selling his education program?one which even many Democrats liked, largely because he didn't push too hard on voucher plans, which could liberate at least a portion of America's poor kids from the public schools. I was having a debate the other day with a friend of mine who is very smart, but very liberal, with a real soft spot for "it takes a village"-style thinking. Her biggest beef with vouchers was, of course, that it wasn't fair to create a system which wouldn't benefit all children equally (as if the current educational regime does); thus proving the old maxim about socialism holding everyone at the same level of mediocrity. But then again, she has plenty of money, and will never have to put her kids on a waiting list for one of two scholarship spots at a tony private school to try and get them an education.

But the latest news of the behavior of many members of the departing Clinton administration?which encouraged a near-Constitutional crisis by insisting Gore won and pushing the Vice President into an unwinnable recount fight, spent its last few weeks issuing a spate of executive orders for Bush to undo, and packing up $190,000 in "gifts" received by the First Couple?was, in some ways worse, because it wasn't done for political or financial gain, but rather spite and disrespect. Not only did departing staffers pry off the "W" keys on their computers, but they also cut phone lines, recording obscene voice mails, shuffled pornographic pictures into printers' paper supplies, and glued filing cabinets shut. As I said ever since Election Day, these people just won't go quietly or classily. I don't think that it's a bad bet to say that, when it comes time for Bush and Company to move out (be it in four years or eight), there will be a little more decorum shown. Of course, if Bush is replaced by New York's junior senator, I imagine that the state of her staff's offices will be the least of the republic's worries. Perhaps the only bright spot is the news that broke late that evening that Al Gore will be teaching journalism at Columbia?guaranteeing an uncomfortable moment or two when the former veep shows up at the same restaurant or party as Bill Clinton, who on inauguration day, treated Gore like yesterday's intern.