

A number of my friends from both inside and outside of the newspaper business urged me to read a book titled
"David and Liz -- Dancing Through Love."It's not what you might think. Just because the words
love and
dancing are in the title, there are plenty of things in the book that are neither graceful nor lovable.
It's a paperback written by
Dave and
Elizabeth Kruidenier with
Beverly Rivera Davis that gives a reader some insight into the newspaper business when people actually thought it had a future.
I mean, when
Dave Kruidenier was at the top of his game, circulation and advertising weren't at all-time lows at the
Des Moines Register like they are now, readers weren't invited continually to read the paper on their computers and eager young journalism students weren't being told that newspapers are dead.
Davis wrote the 347-page book after interviewing
Dave Kruidenier and his wife,
Liz.
The late
Dave Kruidenier [pictured at the left] was the big boss at the
Register during some of the time I worked there. Indeed, I was onboard when
Time magazine, in 1984, called it one of the best 10 newspapers in America.
I didn't see much of
Dave, and neither did most of the other reporters and middle editors who worked in the newsroom on the fourth floor of the paper at 8th & Locust. I probably would have had more conversations with Kruidenier had I made better use of the elevators. But, in those days, I usually walked up and down the stairs and forgot the elevators. Dave rode the elevators.
However, whenever I did have occasion to talk with Kruidenier, we got along very well.
After I gave the introductory speech for new members of the
Register & Tribune's 20-Year Club in 1979, Kruidenier greeted me warmly, told me how much he liked my comments and mentioned that he thought the double-breasted navy blue blazer, white shirt with French cuffs, blue-and-red striped tie and gray slacks I was wearing that Sunday afternoon gave the program a professional look.
More than anything, he liked the shoes I was wearing.
"Are those Johnston & Murphy?" he asked.
"You're close," I told him.
"Nice," he said.
I thanked Kruidenier, told him he was dressed well, too, and mentioned that I thought he was doing a great job of running the paper. I figured that was the least a stockholder joining the
20-Year Club could tell the big boss.
On the
"About the Authors" page at the end of the book, Kruidenier is called the "former CEO and president of
Cowles Media Company, a
Pulitzer Prize-winning newspaper publisher, and philanthropist."
Dave Kruidenier never really left the building, even after the Register was sold, but the paper has never been the same since he had to cease running the show.
The book says Dave's wife,
Elizabeth Woodwell Stuart Kruidenier "is an attorney, civil rights activist, and philanthropist."
Beverly Rivera Davis "is a native Iowan and longtime friend of the Kruideniers. Educated at the State University of New York, she is a former television reporter andand producer, talk show host and wire journalist. Currently, she is a freelance writer and U.S. political correspondent for PROFIL, an Austrian weekly newsmagazine."
The book, published by
iUniverse, has a price on the back cover of $24.95. I am indebted to my good friend,
Bob Downing, who loaned me his autographed copy so I could read it.
In the book's foreword,
Beverly Rivera Davis writes, "David and Liz Kruidenier with this book was their last and best gift to me. When David died before all these pages were completed, our city lost its most generous philanthropist and I lost a dear friend and best mentor....
"We first met in the mid-70s. Already in their fifties, David and Liz were at the height of their beauty and power; known as scions of society and seriously accomplished professionals...."*
I was particularly interested in chapter 23 of the book, which is titled
"Betrayal."The betrayal part is in reference to Mike Gartner, aka Michael Gartner, a power-hungry little asshole who many people regard as the most hated man in the state of Iowa. At one point or another, Gartner -- who has always had an advanced case of "little man's disease" and is a poster child for the ailment -- finds a way of getting under the skin of virtually everyone he meets.
On page 272 of the book, Dave Kruidenier writes, "I considered Michael a friend and more than that, I'd grown to love him as the son I never had. It was the worst time in my life."Kruidenier starts the
"Betrayal" chapter, "A meeting with two powerful men in Des Moines on November 2, 1984, would set the stage for every fear fantasy of mine to come true. I would be betrayed by the Cowles family, colleagues, and, worst of all, Michael Gartner. My life would never be the same after David Belin and Dick Levitt walked through my office door. I thought they were raising money for some community project. Instead of wanting money, they offered me $112 million.
"Belin had been a member of the Warren Commission and was probably the brightest legal mind in the state. Levitt was a banker in Minneapolis who had lived in Des Moines for years. We weren't close friends, but we knew one another well, often attending many of the same social functions in town and supporting similar causes. When Belin entered my office, he seemed unusually somber and nervous, and I took some small pleasure in that because he was normally so brash and self-possessed to the point of arrogance."Adjusting his bow tie and clearing his throat, Belin proceeded to drop the bomb, 'Dick and I have an offer to buy the
Register & Tribune.'"I was speechless for a few seconds...did I hear him correctly?"I replayed his words in my head, and then shot back, 'The Company isn't for sale.' Like the good lawyer he was, Belin ignored my comment and continued, 'Yes, we know that's been your position, but I think you may change your mind when you hear who's making the offer and the buyout price of $100 per share, approximately three times the current value of the paper, for a total purchase price of $112 million.'
"I don't care who wants to buy it. The company isn't for sale,' I repeated, and then Belin delivered the coup de grace that left me stunned in disbelief."It's a fine offer being made by a partnership including Michael Gartner, Gary Gerlach,
Dow Jones & Company, Dick and me. If you'd like to continue working at the company, you're more than welcome. Just tell us what position you'd like, and it's done.'
"Belin continued talking, but did I hear right?
"Did he say Michael?"His name kept ringing in my ears. Michael?"Michael was a part of this?
"My voice rose, and I said more emphatically, 'This Company is not for sale.'"Undeterred, Belin continued, 'By making this deal, you can secure the integrity of the paper because Michael will stay on, and Dow Jones has agreed to keep the
Register operating as it has for the past 80 years, as an independent newspaper. Our offer stands until November 20.
"I stood up and said coldly, 'I've heard what you have to say, and I'll take the proposal to the Voting Trust. This meeting is over.'*
"As they left, Belin handed me an envelope with their offer, and I accepted it. Belin held out his hand for me to shake, but I refused. This was an unsolicited, unfriendly offer, and they knew it. With all that I'd done to grow the company in the past 15 years--at a tremendous cost to myself and the family--I wasn't going to shake David Belin or Dick Levitt's hand, not then or ever.
"My knees felt like rubber as I slowly walked back to my desk and sat down. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. My hands shook while reading the letter confirming all that they'd just told me. I dropped the letter. The nightmare was real, and what had just happened wasn't a fragment of my imagination. I was in shock, and I couldn't stop repeating his name over and over--Michael, Michael, Michael.
"How could he have been a party to this scheme to destroy the paper we both loved so much? How could he have betrayed me and the trust I placed in him? There were people I had to call--the other members of the Voting Trust--and there were immediate decisions I had to make about Michael's and Gary's status at the company, but I did neither. I first had to think and try to make sense of all that had led up to this precise moment...."After I became chairman of
Cowles Media in Minneapolis, I resurrected my earlier plan to merge the two companies. Even with my cousin gone from the Minneapolis paper, there was a sensitive dilemma for me to overcome to make the merger a reality--Michael Gartner.
"The Minneapolis team didn't like Michael's brashness, and Michael worried about his future. He wasn't fond of the Minneapolis editorial and management team, either. He didn't have much respect for them and thought a merger would lower the journalism quality at the Register and Des Moines would become the poor stepsister to Minneapolis. He also didn't want to report to Minneapolis and lose the independence he valued and needed to do his job."Sometimes, Michael was his own worst enemy. It wasn't hard to see his talent, but his flaws were more difficult to detect. He was insecure, overly ambitious, and also displayed some immaturity. His tremendous energy wasn't always under good control, but he was productive and brilliant. That's a tough combination...."
*
Kruidenier said the offer to buy the
Register -- "especially how it was made -- threw me completely off track because I considered [Gartner] a friend, and more than that, I'd grown to love him as the son I never had. After the merger, the increased price of his stock would have made him a wealthy man in addition to his more powerful position. I was still battled that he could have misjudged by reaction to their offer, and worse, how the offer was made.
"I snapped out of my stupor and placed a call to Luther Hill and Morley Ballantine. I asked them to meet at my house on Sunday to discuss what had just transpired, and they agreed. On Sunday, we voted to take their offer to the full board of directors.
"Before I left the building on Friday, I called Michael and [Gerlach] and asked them to come to my office on Saturday and explain their actions. The next day, they arrived with sheepish faces. Michael said the proposal was their effort to protect the company and not for personal gain. With the financial resources of Dow Jones--with its flagship, The Wall Street Journal--and Dick Levitt, the Register could continue to operate independently but the debt would be diminished and the paper would retaiin its high journalistic standard."When I asked Michael why he sent David Belin and Dick Levitt rather than coming directly to me with their proposal, he said, 'I thought they would make the offer more professional.'
"I told them, 'I regretted the offer, and I particularly regretted the manner in which it was made.'"I went on to tell them that they were trying to buy the paper from under me. Michael apologized for their approach but told me that he and Gary shared the same goals and principles they had learned from me. It was almost more than I could bear. I told them that the company wasn't for sale, and I placed them on paid leave of absence. As long as I was running the paper, they would never step foot in the building again....
"In December,
Valerie Monson wrote a story characterizing the staff at the
Register as 'a palace revolt.' Their editor and the company's legal counsel's bid to buy the paper--and their subsequent departure--stunned the staff and company managers....
"The paper was on the sale block now, and the offers were coming in at a furious pace. Our stock had been trading at $33 to $36 per share and jumped to $92 to $95 a share after news of the first offer. Then, it moved to over $100 a share as the weeks ticked by. Gannett offered the highest bid with an offer of $165 million for the Register and two weeklies, one in Independence, Iowa, and another in Indianola, Iowa, and it was over.
"On July 1, 1985, the
Register was sold to
Gannett. The day they took over the paper, Gannett's CEO,
Al Neuharth, promised 'to help make the
Register an even better newspaper.' Time would prove Mr. Neuharth's promise empty, indeed.
"Why had it happened? What had I missed? I'd sold or rather lost the family jewels, and it's the last thing I wanted to do. It was too soon to reflect on the whys and why nots. I was proud that I'd made an extraordinarily good deal for the stockholders--and my family members--but heartbroken over losing the paper and the bright star that had made the Register one of the ten best newspapers in America, according to Time magazine in 1984...."*
A few other things....In a way,
Dave Kruidenier had nobody to blame but himself for being betrayed by
Mike Gartner.
There were dozens of qualified people around the country when Kruidenier and others at the Register were looking for someone to steady the ship, but they made the mistake of hiring Gartner.It came during a time when there was plenty of unrest in the Register's newsroom. The
National Newspaper Guild tried to organize the middle editors, reporters and photographers [something that's
not in Kruidenier's book], and there were two spirited votes -- neither of which won.
Too bad Kruidenier backed the wrong horse.
*
Of former Register columnist
Don Kaul, Kruidenier wrote, "He was an awful news reporter, but a great columnist whose favorite topic of ridicule was the sacrosanct--and wildly popular--Iowa girls state basketball tournament. In spite of his crusty bravado and natural inclination to poke fun at everyone and everything, he needed lots of elbow room and tender care."
[RON MALY'S COMMENTS: One day, Leighton Housh, my boss at the time in the sports department, called me at home and asked if I'd come to the office and write a commentary supporting the girls tournament because Kaul had upset so many readers with what he wrote].*
Of
Diane Graham, whose jobs at the Register included being a very ordinary managing editor, Kruidenier wrote: "I was once awakened at 2 o'clock in the morning by the telephone ringing. It was Diane, asking me a slew of questions about the sale of the Register and wanting a quote. I was pissed off at the time but begrudgingly proud of her. Good journalists aren't intimidated by power or position--even if you're writing their checks!"
[RON MALY'S COMMENT]: I can't imagine Diane Graham calling anyone at 2 o'clock in the morning, especially the boss. Furthermore, I can't even imagine Diane Graham being awake at 2 o'clock in the morning. She was rarely awake at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. I wonder if the caller was someone impersonating Graham].*
Kruidenier wrote, "My nephew,
Charlie 'Buzz' Edwards, [became the Register's first publisher after Gannett bought the paper]. After some years, Charlie quit, too. It was an incredibly tense job where the profit motive and mediocre journalism was the order of the day."
*
Although "David and Liz -- Dancing Through Love" has been out a while, I don't think there's been a word about it in the Des Moines Register. That might seem strange but, hell, maybe it isn't. Lots of dumb things happen at that place now. The op-ed and business pages print story after story about books, and here's one written by a guy who for many years was the biggest name at the paper, and a prominent Des Moines lawyer, and it's stiffed by the Register. I guess "Biz Buzz" has been on a two-year smoke-break.
*
I don't think
City View has written anything about the book, either. Of course, the weekly throwaway is owned by Gartner, who takes potshots regularly at the Register and people who work at the Register in his paper. But, in a typical gutless, chickenshit style, he doesn't sign his name to those attacks. Kind of like him sending a sneaky little note to one of his two or three friends at the Register -- another activity in which he has expertise.
*
Kruidenier writes in the book, "Our house was party central....I often wrote my favorite black Nehru jacket with black bell-bottom pants, and Liz preferred some flower-child gauzy dress. She looked smashing....Don Lubbers, the president of Central College in Pella, and his attractive wife, Eunice, were regulars at our parties. Fortified by too many cocktails, Don jumped into our atrium pool, announced he was 'Don the Baptist,' and offered to baptize any willing guest. Liz didn't jump in, but several of our female guests did, removing their blouses for the ceremony. I took a pass on the baptism...."*
Dave Kruidenier wrote, "[In 1994], my vision was getting progressively worse, and I finally made an appointment to see my ophthalmologist,
Dr. Christopher Blodi. Along with blurred vision, I had been seeing tiny dark spots floating in my field of vision for about four years before I told the doctor about it. It was an ominous sign, and it didn't take Dr. Blodi but a few minutes before he gave me the worst news of my life.
"'David, I'm sorry to have to tell you this but you've got wet macular degeneration. New blood vessels grow and leak into the pupil. There isn't a cure. We can treat it for a while--keep it from spreding with laser surgery--but eventually, the condition causes blindness.'"I felt as if I'd just received a death sentence and started to cry. I couldn't help the tears from falling. He kept talking but I couldn't hear what he was saying. Liz took my hand and held it tightly. I walked out of his office and asked Liz to drive home. I was unable to talk. All I could do was obsess about all that I'd miss....
"In a little over a year, Dr. Blodi told me what I already knew. I was legally blind. I still had some peripheral vision but not enough to drive or read or see the fact in front of me."A recent study by the Iowa Commission for the Blind echoed my sentiments exactly. 'People would rather be dead than blind.'"*
More than a few people who worked with
Mike Gartner in the newsroom at the
Des Moines Register regarded him as a strange little cartoon character of a guy who was always trying to convince himself and others that he was in charge.
You already know by Kruidenier's book that most things Gartner did were for his own benefit.
This isn't something that was going to have a bearing on the journalism world, but it's a typical Gartner decision.
I thought our sports department was getting a huge break when
Bob Commings was coaching Iowa's football team from 1974-1978.
Jim Zabel, who then was the sports director at WHO-TV and WHO-Radio in Des Moines, invited one or two of us to participate in the filming of the
"Bob Commings/University of Iowa TV Football Show" that was taped on Sunday mornings at the TV station downtown and shown across the state later that day.
We were able to talk with Commings off the air and ask him questions on the air about things pertaining to the previous day's Hawkeye game and about issues surrounding the university's football program.
Then one day, Gartner posted a memo on the bulletin board in the newsroom that said the paper's sportswriters could no longer be a part of the TV show.
Some people in the newsroom joked that Gartner was jealous that no one asked him to be on the show, so he told his sportswriters they couldn't be on it either.It was a ridiculous thing for him to do. A bush league and grandstand move all the way.
Most newspaper editors would give anything to have their writers participate in a Big Ten coach's TV show.
What Gartner did -- dropping the project after several weeks -- was an embarrassment to himself, his newspaper, the paper's sportswriters, Bob Commings, Jim Zabel and the University of Iowa's football program.*
Yet at another time, Gartner had a small TV studio built in the Register newsroom.
No one knew why.
For a while, he had people reading the news -- and maybe he even wore a David Brinkley mask so he could have his own show. But it was the kind of station that people needed a tin can and a fishing line to get on their TV screens. The project was dumped quickly. I could see why.
It was a joke.Once I had an idea for a sports segment. Damn good idea, too.
"Sounds great," said the guy who had been put in charge of the operation. "Can you sell some advertising for it, too?"*
Actually, I've tried very hard to wipe any thought of Gartner out of my mind.
A couple of years ago, an eager-beaver reporter from the Iowa City Press-Citizen contacted me twice, asking me if I'd e-mail him things I recalled about Gartner.
"I'm having memory problems -- both short-term and long-term," I told the reporter. "I've forgotten who Gartner is."*
That worked for a while.
Then Gartner kept pissing off more and more people.
It was difficult to forget the pint-sized sleazebag.
He's been buried under more no-confidence votes than Jimmy Hoffa.
And now, here he is getting hammered in Dave and Liz Kruidenier's book.