The editor steps down

This forum would be open to everyone but imposed upon no one. As a personal side benefit, after a lifetime of ink-stained print journalism I would teach myself the Internet while availing myself of Philadelphia’s cultural riches.

But of course few things in life proceed according to plan (just ask Albert Barnes). Almost from Day One I was swamped with submissions from eager contributors, with the result that I spent so much time and energy editing other people’s articles that I was too pooped to engage in scintillating discourse with more than a fraction of them, much less spend my evenings immersing myself in theater and music and art.

What’s more, the mantra that guided my self-education project— “Tell me something I don’t already know!”— intimidated many writers. “But Dan,” I was told more than once, “you already know everything!”

In a plane crash

I insisted it wasn’t so— I’ve never been shot, tortured, raped or forced to watch “American Idol,” nor do I have the foggiest idea what it’s like to be fresh out of school and searching for a job in the midst of the Bush recession. But an article I edited earlier this month did give me pause.

In a BSR essay about the miraculous Hudson River landing of a disabled US Airways flight five years ago, Roz Warren concluded, “We’ve all wondered what it would be like to be in a crashing airplane. We’ve seen the movie version (too) many times. But Flight 1549 provided a rare opportunity to learn what it’s actually like.” (Click here.)

As a matter of fact, I haven’t wondered, because I actually did survive a plane crash (at O’Hare Airport in Chicago in January 1962). So Roz got me thinking: Is it possible that I really do know everything?

Long story short: After eight years as editor of BSR, I’ve concluded that it's time for both BSR and me to recharge our batteries.

My successor

Throughout my long career as an editor, I’ve always been more of a "pioneer" than a "settler"— good at starting or revamping publications but not so good when it comes to Phase Two, which is where I think BSR is now. So as of the new year, I’m turning my duties as editor over to our highly capable managing editor, Judy Weightman. Thereafter I will assume the title of senior editor, so I can focus more on writing and reviewing for BSR, as opposed to editing and administering.

Unlike me at this juncture, Judy— AKA the world’s most assertive Quaker— possesses the energy and ambition to move BSR in new and exciting directions. She’s also blessed with the necessary editorial and intellectual chops, a strong sense of integrity and a genuine affection for BSR and its mission. Judy has written for BSR since 2009; she took charge of our social media in 2011; and since December 2012 she's been our managing editor.

Many of Judy’s ideas and tastes differ from mine (she likes jazz!). But to my mind, that's a benefit. BSR needs to expand from my personal idiosyncratic vision. Under Judy’s leadership, I feel confident, BSR’s great adventure will continue in ways no one can predict. And I would say this even if Judy weren’t holding my family hostage in an abandoned warehouse until I turn the editorial reins over to her.

Striking it rich

Actually, you may very well hear more from me in my new position than you did in my old one. And if that’s the case, you can thank BSR and the Internet alike for indirectly providing me the financial wherewithal to give up my administrative duties.

You see, just last week, totally out of the blue, I received an e-mail message from Sanusi Lamido, executive governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria. It seems that one of his bank’s foreign clients, one Andreas Schranner of Germany, perished with all of his relatives in a plane crash in July 2000, leaving $64 million on deposit. For 13 years the bank has searched for Mr. Schranner’s next of kin, to no avail. In the absence of any blood beneficiaries, Mr. Lamido decided to send the funds to me, presumably because of his high regard for BSR’s reputation.

I’ve never let money influence my career decisions. But $64 million should keep me in liquor, cigars and chorus girls until I’m ready for the rest home. Had BSR and the Internet not provided Mr. Lamido with such instantaneous access to me and my work, I'd still be dining on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

To writers who complain about BSR’s minuscule fees, there’s a lesson here. If you work hard and plant plenty of seeds, they can bear fruit in ways you never imagined. Or as Havelock Ellis put it: “The by-product is sometimes more valuable than the product.”

So let the BSR adventure continue. And above all let us not take ourselves too seriously.

I will leave the last word to T.S. Eliot, who grasped the essential idea of BSR even before BSR existed:

“We shall not cease from exploration/ And the end of all our exploring/ Will be to arrive where we started/ And know the place for the first time.”

I'm still searching for that place myself. And I thank you for keeping me company on the journey.