I could claim that I read Tom Wolfe's work for its erudition but the honest truth is I most enjoy its humor. Wolfe makes me laugh so hard that coffee flies out of my nose. That happened today at Starbucks and I needed several napkins to clean up the mess.
This anecdote needs context. Tom Wolfe started his career in the early 1960s as a general assignment reporter at a dying newspaper, the New York Herald Tribune. The newspaper had a moribund Sunday supplement that it wanted to turn around. They hired a new Editor, Clay Felker, and told two staff writers (Wolfe and Jimmy Breslin) to produce articles for the weekly supplement. (This was in addition to their normal duties). The supplement was re-named "New York."
A boulevardier, Felker had sensitive antennae for interesting New York social life. He pointed Wolfe and Breslin toward the beau monde, fascinating sub-cultures and odd events. Wolfe and Breslin investigated these and wrote some of the most trenchant articles in magazine history (e.g., "Radical Chic"). The supplement became immensely popular: readers loved exciting tales of hidden social life in the Big Apple. The host-newspaper, however, died. Soon after, Clay Felker bought rights to the name of the supplement ("New York") and revived it as a standalone magazine. The magazine prospered for five decades and continues to exist today.
Okay, here comes the funny part...
Years later, at a party celebrating the history of New York magazine, Tom gave a speech praising Clay Felker. He relayed how Felker was a natural New Yorker from earliest childhood. To prove his point, Wolfe said Felker's sister told him that "Baby Clay's first complete sentence was 'Whaddaya mean, I 'don't have a reservation'?"
