The Ethics of Steak and Sex

By MEDIA FARM

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BOSTON MAGAZINE HAD its semiannual complete staff turnover last week. Among the six let go were editor James Burnett and creative director Patrick Mitchell. Apparently, advertising is down, because the audience that likes to read about jewel-encrusted dog dishes has diminished. So, just in time for its biggest issue, the annual advertiser jerkoff known colloquially as "Best of Boston," they also fired two marketing staffers.

They did bring in some fresh (and recycled) blood, though, in the form of Andrew Putz, formerly of Minnesota Monthly, to replace Burnett, and Paul Reulbach, formerly the publisher of BoMag from 2003 to 2007, to become its ... er, publisher (which, given the current state of magazine journalism, is probably a step up).

Everyone was twittering (in the traditional sense) about the shift, including the gossip queens at the Herald's Inside Track, who probably are still feeling vindictive after BoMag printed John Gonzalez' 2006 opus, which prophetically claimed, "To openly challenge the Track, after all, might inspire the Gals to don their brass knuckles and throw down." Sigh:

From the Let-Them-Eat-Steak Department: Just hours after the bloodbath over at Boston—where the editor and five other employees were axed—the magazine bigwigs sat down to a hearty dinner of prime-cut steaks at oh-so swish Grill 23!

Herb Lipson, chairman of Metrocorp, Boston maggie's parent company; his son, David, president of Metrocorp; Boston mag prez Randy Hano; and the once-and-future BoMag publisher Paul Reulbach all enjoyed a hearty repast after whacking five top staffers.

By the way, concerned readers, before you call the Boston Police tipline to complain about an axe murderer over at Horticultural Hall, no one was literally killed! That would be wrong. All that genocide talk is just some colorful language! Clever, huh?

Well, eating a steak dinner on the company dime after a round of firings would kind of be like drinking orphan blood when there are anemics out there, we guess. Of course, there's this, further down in that same item:

Hano admitted that there was a steak dinner at Grill 23 but insisted that the fine dining did not come at company expense.

"It was a difficult day for everyone at Boston magazine," Hano told the Track. "We did get together for dinner but no company money was spent on dinner."

File Under: Boston Beef.

I'll say.

If it wasn't expensed, what, exactly, is the story here? Are we really just reading what a bunch of rich dudes had for dinner? Too bad no one in Boston named their tits or got a drink with someone sexy that day.

SPEAKING OF, DIDJA read Jessica McBride's 5,000-plus-word feature in Milwaukee Magazine profiling Ed Flynn, the hotshot cop who did a stint as commissioner for our very own crime-riddled Springfield before becoming chief in Milwaukee? The article praised Flynn as the Wyatt Earp of our time, moving from town to town to lay down the law, and wrung its fingers wondering how long he'd stay in Milwaukee before going to, say, Dodge City.

It turns out that McBride had an affair with Flynn. It's OK, though, according to McBride—who teaches journalistic ethics at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee—because the article was published before their relationship turned sexual. Too bad so much of the piece, entitled "The Cop Who Can't Stop" (really!), reads like a blowjob:

He stood out at the finalist interviews of the Fire and Police Commission, wowing its members with his intellect, national connections and communication skills. "Ed Flynn has the ability to talk a dog off a meat wagon," says Mike Tobin, the Fire and Police Commission's executive director and a former Milwaukee cop.

Flynn is also a compelling physical presence: tall, iron-haired, fit (he once rode a bicycle 233 miles) and energetic. He has what one observer calls "command bearing."

But was he too good to be true?

To find out the answer to that, you'll have to read McBride's follow-up, "When the Cop Stopped, He Copped a Feel."

Reporters aren't robots. They're going to develop opinions, have an affinity for some of their subjects and dislike dickwads. Still, you keep your pants on for anyone you write about. You don't have to take an ethics class to know that.

Too bad the Inside Track girls don't live in Milwaukee. On the bright side, BoMag writers, we found a publication that's probably looking for some fresh talent.