海角大神

There鈥檚 a certain pleasing irony to the fact that Cond茅 Nast is today remembered as a brand rather than as a man; it鈥檚 a thing that would probably have given the man himself the pleasing sense of a job well done.聽

But Nast was a person before he was a publishing empire, and as Susan Ronald points out in 鈥淐ond茅 Nast: The Man and His Empire," her beguiling new book, he鈥檚 only had one previous full-dress biography, Caroline Seebohm鈥檚 chatty 1982 book 鈥淭he Man Who was Vogue: The Life and Times of Cond茅 Nast.鈥� It鈥檚 long since time for a new life, particularly given both Nast鈥檚 fascinating life and the long posthumous reach of his empire, which includes The New Yorker, Cond茅 Nast Traveler, Tatler, Allure, Architectural Digest, WIRED, Bridges, Bon App茅tit, Golf Digest, World of Interiors, Men鈥檚 Vogue, Teen Vogue, and of course, Vanity Fair.

In chapters of sparkling prose and sympathetic insight, Ronald traces Nast鈥檚 life from his birth in New York in 1873 (and his life-long reaction against the wastrel ways of his profligate father) to his early start in the magazine world, recruited by his college friend Robert Collier to renovate the advertising and circulation of Collier鈥檚 Weekly.聽

Nast, Ronald tells us, 鈥渨as noted for his measured, gentlemanly manner, his numeracy, and his careful management style,鈥� and that combination, allied with an understated skill at reading the zeitgeist, quickly skyrocketed Collier鈥檚 circulation and ad revenue. From there, Nast moved on to buy the struggling small New York magazine Vogue, and transformed Vanity Fair into a glittering mirror reflecting the high echelons of New York society.聽

鈥淪oon enough,鈥� Ronald writes, 鈥渉e would be credited with creating caf茅 society; throwing the most awesome parties; finding young, untested talent from the international arena who would change the way we think; and becoming one of the foremost Americans influencing the export of the country鈥檚 can-do attitude, know-how, products, fashion, and style to the world.鈥澛�

Nast and his irrepressible Vanity Fair editor Frank Crowninshield (an unsung star of the book) found that untested talent everywhere; Robert Benchley, No毛l Coward, Aldous Huxley, P.G. Wodehouse, Edna St. Vincent Millay, e.e. cummings, and Dorothy Parker (鈥渟he always seemed to hit the centre of the mark,鈥� Crowninshield wrote of her) 鈥� these and many other writers blossomed under the winning combination of Nast鈥檚 aloof guidance and Crowninshield鈥檚 endearing charm. 鈥淔rank Crowninshield continued as Vogue鈥檚 rara avis, sprinkling his bonhomie and sage reflections like stardust against the prevailing gloom [of the Second World War],鈥� Ronald writes, whereas Nast spent every possible minute at the office, 鈥渃alculating profit-and-loss statements, seeing where he could gain that edge in the market, and dashing off short memos to his staff.鈥�

Ronald鈥檚 colorful prose style perfectly matches the heyday of the early 20th-century magazine boom. Readers are brought inside Nast鈥檚 two marriages, inside his sprawling New York penthouse apartment, and inside the ravages of the Great Depression and the onset of World War II in Europe 鈥� a time during which Nast was simultaneously preoccupied with 鈥渢he simple reality that the company鈥檚 stock price hovered at around the two-dollar mark鈥� and 鈥渜uietly鈥� saving friends and colleagues in Europe from the rising fascist threat.

It鈥檚 this assured ability to capture the dissonant and at times contradictory aspects of Nast鈥檚 nature that sets Ronald鈥檚 book apart and makes it such fascinating reading. Nast was one of the earliest 20th-century entrepreneurs to see clearly that the thousands of workers flooding the nation鈥檚 cities in the wake of World War I were aspirational in ways that could be intensely monetized. If pitched correctly, magazines seemingly catering to the tastes and interests of the rich could become wildly popular with readers who only dreamed of being rich. In these pages, the staid, reserved mastermind behind Vogue and Vanity Fair comes across as an unlikely Pied Piper figure, giving the smart set a monthly blueprint for their ambitions.

It was a mood and a time, and it couldn鈥檛 last forever, of course. Nast died in September of 1942, and Ronald spends a tantalizingly short amount of space on the company鈥檚 subsequent changes (noting, with an exquisite touch of euphemism, 鈥渢he Newhouse management style鈥� that has dominated the family of magazines in recent decades).

This, too, is ultimately a wise choice; it keeps the focus squarely where it belongs, on the buttoned-down, soft-spoken, number-crunching visionary who taught Jazz Age America how to think about itself.聽