The Mirror’s economic situation had begun to change sometime when I was overseas, so it was hard for me to say precisely what had caused it. Readers had less time for a quality paper; advertisers had less patience with our shotgun marketing; newsprint costs were up—who knew what the reasons were? But I had felt the change as soon as I came home—the new cautiousness, the fear of offending readers, the advertising-driven sections that were being added to the paper every year. The liberality and generosity of spirit that I associated with the newspaper world was slipping away.

Perhaps we truly were creatures of economics. Reporters, despite their show of cynicism, have always been optimists at heart. They believe that the world is getting better, that human history is moving upward, that the pie is always expanding, that the truth will set people free. Everything in our own business had confirmed that view, until recently. Now, suddenly, our world was contracting; the pie was shrinking; the newsroom staff was being reduced. We weren’t prepared for a world like that.

“I told you it was coming,” muttered George Dirk. He was wearing his Newspaper Guild pin prominently, like an amulet to ward off the evil spirits. “This is just the beginning. They won’t get enough volunteers for the buyouts, so they’ll have to do layoffs.”

“Never happen,” I said. “Sellinger would rather fire his mother than go after the newsroom. And Weiss won’t let him.”

“Weiss is an employee, my friend, just as you are an employee. That means he serves at the pleasure of the publisher, who serves at the pleasure of the stockholders, who don’t really exist except for the little gnomes who manage all the pension funds, who don’t give a flying fuck what happens to you, me or Ed Weiss. I know you golden boys tend to forget that. But it’s the truth.”

Noel Rosengarten came sailing by. He had a new fifty-dollar haircut and a new thousand-dollar suit.

“I’m out of here!” he said to me. He didn’t like talking to Dirk. “The future is television news. I’ve got a new agent, same guy that used to represent Katie Couric. He’s almost ready to close a deal.”

“Where are you going?” I asked. “I heard ABC might make you an offer.”

“I don’t think so. They want some black woman. My agent is talking to other people.”

“Like who?” cut in Dirk. He was smiling from ear to ear over the fact that Rosengarten had been turned down by ABC. Noel ignored him.

“My agent is talking to a bunch of people. Something will happen. The NBC affiliate in Minneapolis wants me bad.”

“You’re going to do local news?” I asked. All I could think of were guys named Bob with blow-dried hair.

“Why not? You have to start somewhere. Learn the business. They’re talking anchor in Minneapolis.”