A once and perhaps future friend of mine worked there, so I won’t really gloat over the death of the New York Sun, and if you want that, Alex Pareene has you covered. A true story: I actually interviewed for a job there when I was about to graduate college. Russ Smith of New York Press wrote me a recommendation. I bought a Brooks Brothers suit that I still own. On a hot day, pre-launch in 2002, I went to the paper’s Chambers Street office and made the rounds to its editors. I hated Ira Stoll instantly, with his smarm and stammer barely concealing his impressive ignorance. Seth Lipsky has a very weak handshake; that’s all I remember about him. Seth Mnookin worked there for a minute as a music editor — I guess it was a pit stop between Brill’s Content and Newsweek — and he wasn’t interested in me contributing.
Ellen Umansky, sister of ProPublica’s Eric, was the arts editor at the time. She commissioned a restaurant review from me. I took Sikki Nixx to Mooza on the Lower East Side, wrote about 600 positive-ish words on it, and the piece ran on May 8, 2002. To this day I have still not been paid the $150 I was supposed to be paid. The Sun committed other offenses against journalism in its brief existence. But stiffing a college student — that requires a certain something.