Many years ago, I worked for a chain of newspapers ran by a guy named Ted Fang. It was the kind of place you went to when you were trying to get somewhere else but didn't have "clips." Among us J-school types, Fang -- the scion of a wealthy and politically connected John Fang family -- was a notorious cheap-o.
The newsroom equipment was crappy. The papers were pretty much advertising flyers, distributed free in San Francisco and San Mateo County. "Readers" got them whether they wanted them or not. We called them bird cage liners. The hard work of writers and editors were stretched as far as possible ... one person might be responsible for reporting, editing and laying out the entire editorial part of a paper, as well as doing the police blotter and putting together community announcements.
I got my clips. But I never once saw Fang show an interest in anything that was actually printed ... In fact I rarely saw him at all. The rumor was he was handed the family's publishing business to give him something to do, and that his true loves were comic books and clubbing. That's what I heard anyway.
Which makes the following a little funny to me, even if it isn't very funny at all.
Ted Fang's still in the business, and, among other things, "runs" AsianWeek, another free, crappy rag that parlays the Bay Area's huge Asian population into ad revenue. Thousands, possibly millions of Americans would never have heard of it -- IF Fang didn't hire a 23-year-old science fiction writer/columnist who began penning such gems like "Proof That Whites Inherently Hate Us" and "Why I Hate Blacks."
In the latter piece, published on Feb. 23, the author, Kenneth Eng, actually implores readers to discriminate against black people. No, it wasn't published a century ago ... not that it would make any more sense. It was published last week.
Cue shit hitting fan.
I could turn this into a rant about bad newspapers and the consequences of operating with little or no editorial oversight. Considering the general state of the newspaper industry, however, that would seem to be a waste of time. Sad, too, that AsianWeek probably employs people who might be embarrassed about what was happening, but needed the work. Who knows.
A small part of me, however, is grateful that Mr. Fang is finally getting exposed for being the bad publisher he is. In my experience, few deserve it more.
4 comments:
Adam and I were just talking about this the other night. We seriously couldn't believe an editor would let that by.
When I realized it was a Fang paper, I wasn't so surprised.
Here's one Ken Eng column that sure wouldn't make it past ol' Ted's lazy eyes:
"Why we should hate cute young Thai boys at hot tub parties."
If you know what I mean...Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. NOT, of course, that there's anything wrong with that, since it IS San Francisco.
And who hasn't been to a cute young Thai boy hot tub party in SF? Cute young Thai boys are practically falling out of trees.
But on a sidenote. The Fang Family's newspaper, The San Francisco Independent, wasn't so bad a place to work - at least in the 1990s. There were some talented reporters and editors there.
But, when you look to the publisher's office and see him engrossed in a stack of "X-Men" comic books, it kinda makes you feel like you're rowing a boat with a pasta colander.
Then there was the time at work when I knocked about a buck's worth of change onto the floor, but was on a tight deadline and couldn't spend the few seconds to pick it up and place in my pocket or out of the way.
Well, a couple minutes later here comes 'ol Ted bobble-heading along. He spots the change, which is about 8 inches from my feet.
He stops. Stoops. Picks it up, pockets it, and continues on his merry, bobble-headed way to his office.
No doubt to see what was going on with Wolverine and Cyclops.
And let's not even get into what they did to the SF Examiner.
Old man Fang you could respect. Helluva guy. Hard worker. Old man probably kicked the bucket to get away from that wife.
But those kids?
If 'ol Ted was born in Arkansas instead of SF, he'd be pickin' a banjo with one eye permanently slotted to the left and the other floating around like a balloon in the wind. Gaps between his teeth big enough to shove a Red's Java House double-dog through.
Might be embarassed? Oh dear god, there is no "might"...
Even though the Fang/Jerry Fuchs empire days are long behind me (Now I live in Paris and rely on the Internet to keep in touch), I still get a thrill to Google Ted Fang from time to time and see the havoc he's still wreaking. Justice may not be swift, but...
One of my fondest memories is his baby blue Porche convertible (special-order James Bond style) parked in between all of our poverty-stricken reporters' cars barely held together by spit-and-bubble gum in the parking lot in San Mateo.
Of course, the car never made an appearance before noon...
Wonder what he's driving now?
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