“Readers should be able to assume that every word between quotation marks is what the speaker, or writer, said. The Times
does not “clean up” quotations….No one needs to be reminded that
falsifying any part of a news report cannot be tolerated and will
result automatically in disciplinary action up to and including
Company Guidelines on Integrity, 1999
DEBORAH SOLOMON: Feel free to mix pieces of this interview around, which is what I do. You don’t have to keep it in this order.
CJR: Is there a general protocol on that?
SOLOMON: There’s no Q-and-A protocol. You can write the manual.
When I began my reporting three weeks ago, this story was slated to be
a benign profile of an incisive, witty, cantankerous,
high-profile-but-not-quite-famous, powerful, puzzling, playful,
combative contributing writer to the New York Times Magazine. Through Deborah Solomon’s weekly column, a Q-and-A interview that has become a popular staple of the Times’
Sunday magazine since its launch in 2003, the former art critic and
author of two biographies has developed a voice easily as distinctive
as the ones she features.
Most of my interviews with people in Solomon’s column over the years
reflected positive overall experiences. (Several of those contacted
either declined to comment or didn’t respond to requests for an
interview.) But after conversations with two prominent Solomon Q-and-A
subjects—Ira Glass, the popular host of Public Radio International’s “This American Life,” and
Amy Dickinson, the nationally-syndicated advice columnist who replaced
Ann Landers in 2003—the story became more complicated. Both Glass and
Dickinson, without any prompting and in significant detail, told me
that in the published versions of their interviews, Solomon had made up
questions, after the fact, to match answers that, at least in one
instance, she had taken out of their original context.
“[Solomon] rewrites her questions and then applies any question to any
answer that a person says,” Glass told me in a tape-recorded telephone
Both experienced journalists, Glass and Dickinson accused Solomon of
violating basic ethical standards by making up dialogue never said
during their conversations with her—conversations Solomon taped.
Dickinson (in a tape-recorded telephone interview) described an
exchange that she says “didn’t happen” during her interview, that she
said Solomon put together using her quotes. Glass went even further; of
one exchange, he said that “she never actually asked that question,”
and added that Solomon “was changing context in a way that changed what
I meant.” In Glass’s case, he told a fact-checker for the magazine
about the distortion of the interview, in an attempt to have it
corrected. “I made my case as forcefully as I knew how,” Glass said in
an email to me last week, “but I guess he just disagreed with me.”
And so, the conversations I had with Glass and Dickinson transformed a
human interest story into an examination of the questionable ethical
choices one very prominent reporter made on behalf of the nation’s top
newspaper—an institution itself ravaged by an ethics scandal only four
years ago, when then-reporter Jayson Blair was caught falsifying
information in his stories, leading to his resignation and the eventual
resignation of the paper’s executive editor, Howell Raines.
Nine days ago, I began repeated efforts to contact Solomon for an
interview. I sent my first email after my interview with Glass, but
before my conversation with Dickinson corroborated his version of her
approach, and so I didn’t mention this aspect of the story. I told
Solomon I admired her writing and was working on a profile; without an
additional source to back up Glass’s account of his experience, I
wasn’t even sure I would include it in this piece. Solomon wrote back
to say she was on deadline but would be free to speak as of last
Friday: “Like most writers, I would rather pose questions than answer
them. But if you want to proceed with this, can it wait until Friday,
when I finally get off deadline?”
I followed up with several more emails and phone messages to her home
and cell phone numbers, and she failed to respond to those requests. I
also tried to reach her at The Times, but was told that she did not have a desk (or a phone) there. Solomon doesn’t have a full-time staff position with The Times;
she holds the title “contributing writer,” which in most cases refers
to a freelance, contractual relationship with the magazine.
Last Friday—after the interview with Dickinson on Thursday suggested a pattern of ethical lapses by Solomon—the Press’s
editor-in-chief, David Blum, sent Solomon an email alerting her that
our story would raise “serious questions” about her approach, and
requesting an interview; she never responded. As of Tuesday morning, at
least 10 emails and phone messages from The Press to Solomon had gone unanswered.
On Monday, I spoke to Catherine Mathis, vice president of corporate
communications for The New York Times Company, who serves as the
newspaper’s chief spokesperson. I explained to her that we had been
trying unsuccessfully to reach Solomon for several days in connection
with our story. I also told her the essential elements of what we’d
learned from Dickinson and Glass, and their identities, and asked to
interview a Times
editor with whom we could go through the specific allegations made
against Solomon. Instead, late Monday afternoon, Mathis emailed me the
“The editors of the column assure themselves that the Q-and-A, which
obviously must be boiled down from a much longer rough transcript,
reflects accurately the gist of the whole conversation and contains
actual quotes, both questions and answers. Fact-checkers also go over
the entire transcript of each interview when they check the manuscript.
Quotes are not replayed to the interviewee, but factual assertions in
them are. We believe the columns involving Ms. Dickinson and Mr. Glass
met these standards.”
I replied to Mathis’s email by alerting her to the fact that the
accounts of Glass and Dickinson directly contradicted her statement,
and offered again to go over the specifics of our story with her or a Times
editor. Early Tuesday morning, Mathis wrote me a one-sentence email
followup response: “Please feel free to email your findings.” I
responded by pointing out that The Press—like The Times—prohibits
reporters from sending material to sources from its forthcoming
stories. I reiterated my request to review the specifics of my
reporting with Mathis, Solomon or a Times editor. As of Tuesday afternoon, Mathis had not responded to that request.
“Q: What’s it like to be called the next Ann Landers?
It’s true that my column is replacing the Ann Landers column, but it’s
a whole new venture. It’s the same format, but it’s funnier and
snappier and might be more fun to read. Without a doubt, it will be
How immodest of you! Isn’t it bad manners to brag? Some of us found Ann Landers hilarious.
When Deborah Solomon approached Amy Dickinson for an interview in the
summer of 2003, the advice columnist, who had just replaced Ann
Landers, recalled that she was “tickled to participate.” Dickinson
describes herself as “a very big fan of [Solomon]” at the time, and
says she could relate to Solomon since her own column was written in
the Q-and-A format.
Solomon asked her to set aside 90 minutes to chat over the phone; that
struck Dickinson as long, but didn’t faze her. She had been “doing a
ton of press” for her new column, she recalled, and had herself written
for the Washington Post, Time, Esquire and other national publications, and worked as a producer for NBC News.
But even with dozens of media experiences behind her, Dickinson now
describes the Solomon interview as “by far the most unusual I’ve ever
Dickinson recalls that Solomon wouldn’t give Dickinson her number, and
told her instead to wait for a call at an appointed time. Once on the
phone with her, Dickinson remembers hearing “one or more dogs” barking
in the background. When they barked, Solomon would yell at them.
Solomon acted very rushed despite the wide-open time slot, Dickinson
says, and the “environment” remained “chaotic” throughout their talk.
Dickinson remembers wondering what motivated Solomon’s odd behavior.
Was Solomon doing this on purpose or was this just how she was?
Dickinson also noticed that Solomon had skipped the preliminary small
talk that reporters often begin with to make a source comfortable, and
immediately fired off questions that Dickinson says “you would call,
you know, kind of stupid.”
One line of questioning that particularly riled Dickinson related to
the subject of etiquette. She says she told Solomon repeatedly that she
does not dispense advice on proper etiquette in her column, unlike her
predecessor, Ann Landers. Dickinson says she reminded Solomon about
this repeatedly, “and then she would say something like, ‘Well, if
you’re at a dinner party, and…’
“And I said, ‘I DON’T—’… It was highly-charged…I felt like she kind of set me up.”
But in retrospect, Dickinson says she doesn’t think Solomon was trying
to hunt for certain answers. Rather, she theorizes that Solomon “was
trying to push it and push it and push it and push it…because if you
keep asking somebody the same question over and over, they will give
you a different answer, eventually.”
But Dickinson says she was “surprised” when she read the published
version of the interview. “I had this distinct feeling that the answers
she ran did not go with the questions that she ran in her column,” she
says. While Dickinson acknowledges that Solomon quoted her answers
accurately, she adds that she “felt [Solomon] supplied different
questions to the answers that I gave.”
This is the exchange that Dickinson says “didn’t happen” in the
interview, referring specifically to the “immodest” line that followed
“Q: What’s it like to be called the next Ann Landers?
Dickinson: It’s true that my column is replacing the Ann Landers
column, but it’s a whole new venture. It’s the same format, but it’s
funnier and snappier and might be more fun to read. Without a doubt, it
will be more entertaining.
Q: How immodest of you! Isn’t it bad manners to brag? Some of us found Ann Landers hilarious.
“She didn’t say that in person,” Dickinson says.
Dickinson says she has no problem with “cleaning up” questions by
“shortening” or “editing” questions or answers, but adds: “The most
basic standard that should be adhered to, is that the question match
Preoccupied with other matters at the time, Dickinson says she never contacted Solomon or the Times
to complain after the interview was published. Instead she viewed the
article as a learning experience. Despite it all, Dickinson says,
she’s “still a fan” of Deborah Solomon, but acknowledges that she now
reads the column “completely differently” than she did before her
Q: What do you think of the network?
I don’t meet many people who are talking about shows on Showtime.
The New York Times, 3/4/2007
In February 2007, Deborah Solomon met with Ira Glass in his Midtown
office, tape recorder in hand, to discuss the latest chapter of his
public radio career, which began in 1978. The television version of
“This American Life,” the popular PRI program he created almost 12
years ago, was about to premiere on Showtime, and Solomon planned to
feature him in her column. Glass was familiar with Solomon’s reputation
“as a ‘gotcha’ sort of reporter,” he says, and adds that he was even
warned about sitting down to talk with her. But when he finally did, he
found nothing exceptional about her or the interview itself, although
he would later conclude that Solomon’s “crossing the line” by “changing
the meaning” of his answers was something he hadn’t anticipated.
Glass says he found Solomon “perfectly likable,” and adds: “She seemed
like any other reporter. She was chatty, she tried to talk to me like a
person… I mean, she seemed like a good natural reporter.” He says he
sensed that like any other skilled reporter, Solomon was “digging
around” for something, anything, that would make her story compelling,
not just a puff piece for the new show, and he had no problem with that.
Glass remembers the questions as eclectic: Who did he read? What did he
write? What about his father’s cousin, Phillip Glass, the composer? She
asked how he might categorize “This American Life”—a show that seemed
to exist on its own plane, not exactly documentary, not exactly
narrative journalism, perhaps a distant relative of the reality show
(with much better genes), but not quite like any one of those.
At one point, Glass says he spoke to Solomon “at length” about
Showtime’s marketing campaign for “This American Life.” The discussion
was prompted by the fact that this would be the radio personality’s
first foray into television, and its success would depend on reaching a
wider audience than ever before. Glass acknowledges that during that
discussion he told her: “I don’t meet many people who are talking about
shows on Showtime.” But he remembers that comment as only a small part
of a much longer discussion about marketing.
The day after the interview, Solomon emailed Glass to ask a follow-up question. In the email, which Glass provided to The New York Press,
she included parts of her interview transcript to indicate to Glass the
context of her new question. (Solomon’s email to Glass itself
represented yet another apparent violation of New York Times
policy, which prohibits sharing material with the subject of a story in
advance of publication—the policy referred to in Catherine Mathis’s
comment for this article.)
This is how Solomon started the email to Glass:
700 words. 700 shackles. Wish we had more room. One more question.
Solomon then went on to describe the context of the quote she now planned to use this way:
(you say about Showtime)
I don’t meet many people who are talking about shows on Showtime.
(me [Solomon]: Then why are you doing a show with them?)
Here are the advantages of Showtime. They came to us, and at first we
said no. And they persevered. We had a good experience with them with
My question: Isn’t that a cocky things [sic] to say? Why don’t you feel more appreciative of people who appreciate you?
In Glass’s email reply, he wrote an extensive response to her new
question in an effort to put all he’d said to her about Showtime into a
broader context—a context he says he also made clear in the original
interview, though it wasn’t reflected in her email.
But I do feel appreciative! I’m not communicating my feelings very well
if you’re not getting that. And the more I talk to other people who’ve
worked in TV, the more I realize what total sweethearts the Showtime
people have been, and how rare it is to have such sensible, smart
collaborators at the network level. We’ve been insanely lucky.
Soon after that, Glass says he got a call from a fact-checker at the New York Times Magazine—“a
lovely guy named Aaron,” he recalls. “And in fact, when the
fact-checker talked to me about it, I even said, you know, ‘that isn’t
exactly true, now that I think about it. You know, people are actually
talking about ‘Dexter,’ people are talking about this or that. But the
fact-checker chose to disregard that as well.”
“And then they just put it in the paper.”
In the published interview, Solomon edited Glass’s response by
eliminating his specific comments on “Dexter,” the Showtime series.
And, more important, she substituted her new, fabricated question—“What
do you think of the network?”—in the space where, in her email, she’d
only written the words “(you say about Showtime).”
Later in the published interview, Solomon follows the “I don’t meet
very many people who are talking…” quote with a question that pushed
Glass to explain the reason he’s working with them, if he thinks
Showtime has so little audience reach.
His printed response:
“Here are the advantages of Showtime: They came to us, and at first we
said no, and they persevered. We had a good experience with them with
“But isn’t that a cocky thing to say?” Solomon shoots back, in her
follow-up email. And instead of including the full context of his
answer, she edits his remarks down to this bare-bones reply:
“But I do feel appreciative! I’m not communicating my feelings very well if you’re not getting that.”
But it’s clear from Glass’s email exchange with Solomon that his actual
answer was given to Solomon in a much fuller context: “…and the more I
talk to other people who’ve worked in TV,” Glass in fact told Solomon,
“the more I realize what total sweethearts the Showtime people have
been, and how rare it is to have such sensible, smart collaborators at
the network level. We’ve been insanely lucky.” Indeed—contrary to
Solomon’s published version of their conversation—Glass had no trouble
at all finding the words to praise Showtime.
Predictably, the marketing people at Showtime were not pleased when
they saw the column. And though Glass blamed Solomon and the
fact-checker for the snafu, he felt compelled to call the president of
the network to apologize.
Still, Glass chose not to confront The Times directly with
his belief that Solomon had fabricated a question and taken his words
out of context. “I don’t see what the point would be of getting in
touch and complaining,” he says. And as a reporter, he felt conflicted
about the experience. “I felt like, if somebody says something to a
reporter, it’s fair game…having said that, I think it was lousy.”
Glass went on to criticize Solomon’s approach as beneath the standards of The Times,
a newspaper he clearly admires. “It’s one thing for an entertainment
magazine to do it and another for a newspaper to do it, especially The Times,” he says. “And it’s something that they wouldn’t allow in the news pages.”
In a follow-up email to me, Glass wrote: “As you and I talked about on
the phone, though magazines radically rewrite and fabricate
interviewers’ questions all the time….I don’t think a newspaper should
do it. I know in some picky way, the New York Times Magazine
thinks of itself as a ‘magazine,’ but for me and for most readers, we
assume the editorial standards are the same as in the newspaper of
record, and when the paper says a reporter asked a question, the
reporter did in fact ask the question.”