Eat the Press gets a valuable Radar exclusive: The cover of the new mag (coming February 13th) and an excerpt from Maer Roshan's editor's letter. Maer reflects on the perceived folly of re-entering a market that is generally assumed to be dying - a market in which he has failed twice previously - and offers a passionate defense of what seems to be an incredibly quixotic venture, considering the earlier editions of Radar, both of which, you might remember, folded. Maer's thoughts follow:
"Who needs another magazine?"
That's the question I was often asked as I wandered around University Place in my tattered robe, fat tears streaming down my face as I tried to rustle up funding from anyone who had more money than sense. I started Radar four years ago because I believed that Spy had been gone long enough that I could probably get away with putting out a pale retread. Also, what with Talk having tanked, I had plenty of time on my hands. After five issues and a few bumps and scrapes, I still do. Whatever they're saying this week about the demise of print, I think great magazines of the kind Radar aspires to be are essential as ever. I mean, have you looked at the numbers on the Spy book? Not too shabby!
Certainly it would be more economical to hire pajama-clad post-collegiates to snarkily blog on content produced by others. And, sure, that's what we do on our website, radaronline.com, which launched last September, now draws more than a million visitors a month and breaks news every day, some of which isn't even the result of a Google search or a celebrity web sighting. But if your mission is to break new ground, dispatching actual reporters and photographers to cover actual stories still has an essential power. When we put together hard-hitting pieces like "Is Your Baby Gay," we're following in a grand tradition of reportage that includes John Hersey's "Hiroshima" and David Amsden's "Not Tonight, Honey. I'm Logging On." Let's see you top that, snarky grads.
While there's something undeniably thrilling about responding to news as it happens, there's also much to be said for taking your time. Those toxic bachelors we write about? We had to call all of them, and many of their friends. Sometimes we got their voice mail and had to call back. In one instance, we had a guy who was incredibly hard to reach, and we had to go through a complicated series of e-mails and faxes before we were - well, you get the point. With magazines you don't get second chances (haha, get it?), which compels a more thoughtful and nuanced approach. I'm proud that we're able to let the world know that Colin Farrell is kind of a dick. Please join us on this journey. Seriously, PLEASE. I got nowhere else to go! I got nowhere else to go.