In reading about the escapades and experiences of both Richard Johnson and Cindy DiGiacomo at Page Six, I can’t help but marvel at their tales of journalistic grit and resilience. It seems as though they navigated the treacherous waters of Hollywood gossip with aplomb, managing to maintain a semblance of professionalism amidst the chaos that inevitably follows in the wake of celebrities.
The gossip section of the New York Post has endured where others have not. Established in November 1976, following Rupert Murdoch’s acquisition of the newspaper, it was James Brady who was given the responsibility to implement Murdoch’s idea for a page filled with brief news items contributed by various sources and edited with a distinctive, often humorous tone. Known as Page Six due to its initial location on this page, the column has survived for almost five decades. Today, it stands as the only remaining gossip column from that era, and it has become as well-known as the New York Post itself. In the past week, Page Six has been referenced in a Jeopardy! question and played a role in an episode of Only Murders in the Building.
Susan Mulcahy and Frank DiGiacomo both contributed to Page Six at distinct periods in its history: Susan worked there from 1978-1985 during the early Murdoch years, while Frank was employed from 1989-1993 when it was under the ownership of real estate developer Peter Kalikow. We’ve combined our experiences, plus those of over 240 former and current staffers, story subjects, and media experts, in our recently published oral history of the Post titled Paper of Wreckage. However, as journalists, we prefer posing questions rather than answering them. Therefore, we opted to conduct an interview with ourselves.
Has anyone ever died as the result of a Page Six item?
Bobby Zarem, a well-known publicist who handled celebrities like Jack Nicholson, Cher, and Woody Allen, and bore a resemblance to Larry from The Three Stooges, was known for frequently threatening suicide if his pitched items didn’t appear in Page Six. However, it wasn’t suicide that took Zarem’s life, but rather he passed away in 2021 for reasons unrelated to the column.
Frank DiGiacomo: I don’t remember doing this, but I did write something related to the late Soupy Sales once. The next day, my phone rang and it was a very upset Soupy Sales on the line, letting me know he was still alive. “At least we’ll have another item out of it,” Richard Johnson said to me.
What about the Post’s Cindy Adams? Isn’t she a gossip columnist?
Response: Currently, Cindy functions as an opinion columnist who leans heavily on her personality, much like a humorous and insightful Maureen Dowd from the Borscht Belt.
DiGiacomo stated that he wouldn’t compose a book about Cindy, but he could. She embodies her catchphrase, “Only in New York,” as she is an exceptional representation of this city and there will never be another columnist like her. In 2010 when she became ill, Colin Allan refused to replace her with anyone else, simply ceasing the publication of the column. Cindy is also a formidable figure. Crossing her or her loved ones’ boundaries could lead to retaliation from her that resembles medieval times. When DiGiacomo began working at Page Six, he was quite naive. One day, Cindy’s husband, Joey Adams, hosted an event, and DiGiacomo was told to write an article but decided to exclude a Post columnist as it would be inappropriate. A few days later, Raoul Lionel Felder, a well-known divorce attorney at the time, contacted him, saying Cindy was trying to get him fired. This caught DiGiacomo off guard, as he couldn’t believe she would try to end his career. However, it was a real possibility since Cindy is an institution of the Post, and DiGiacomo was a freelancer who could have been easily dismissed. Raoul Felder helped negotiate a truce, possibly in exchange for a favor from DiGiacomo.
Were you ever confronted by a celebrity who didn’t like you or the Post?
Mulcahy explained that it was more painful when one admired celebrities who were on bad terms with certain media outlets. He shared an instance where he had the chance to meet Paul Newman at a gathering, yet due to his infamous feud with the newspaper ‘Post’, Newman refused to talk to him. Similarly, Mulcahy recounted another incident when he attempted to contact Katharine Hepburn’s office regarding a photo permission issue, only to be met with an unfriendly response.
A memory that stands out for me is the time I reported on entertainment attorney Allen Grubman’s wedding at the New York Public Library in 1991. The reception was a whirlwind of fame and influence, with attendees like David Geffen, Madonna, Mariah Carey, Clive Davis, Christy Turlington, and Naomi Campbell. As I navigated through the crowd, I spotted Sony Music chairman/CEO Tommy Mottola, whom I knew somewhat. He was conversing with Robert De Niro, and he tried to introduce us. When De Niro learned my name, he asked where I worked. I replied “Page Six.” De Niro responded, “Page Six? You’re a jerk.
Why does Page Six write about professions not usually associated with celebrity?
Mulcahy’s Original Text: From its inception, Page Six was fascinated by power – who wielded it and those attempting to amass it. Often, these individuals operated behind the scenes. In the late 1970s, the publication catapulted Fred Silverman, a seemingly unremarkable yet powerful television executive, into stardom. As it delved into political consultants, some became as renowned as the politicians they advised. Bob Squier, a Democrat, and Roger Ailes, a Republican, were regular guests on the Today show in the 1980s due in part to their profiles being boosted by Page Six appearances. Non-traditional celebrities such as dentists, podiatrists, lawyers, among others, were part of the celebrity sphere, so they were fair game. Mentioning a celebrity dermatologist occasionally could even turn them into reliable sources.
The major news outlets spoke negatively about us, even as they took our content and ideas with minimal recognition. Editors from Condé Nast magazines received daily “gossip packs,” which were collections of that day’s gossip columns. I’m certain television had similar packages. Notable individuals who appeared in Page Six attracted the attention of editors and broadcasters with a wide reach. Page Six, along with New York’s tabloids, significantly boosted Donald Trump’s national profile. We also drew significant attention to the sport of midget bowling.
Who were sources for Page Six?
Mulcahy explains that Page Six editors have two types of sources: personal and column sources. When an editor departs, their personal contacts – typically individuals they knew prior to writing the column or who developed friendships with them – tend to follow suit. However, it’s essential for editors to understand that most sources are primarily interested in the column itself rather than the person responsible for it. Consequently, when an editor steps down, they usually switch allegiance to their replacement promptly. This is why Rupert Murdoch’s initial concept was so ingenious; the column, not its editor, is the true star.
One of the sources I admired greatly was Sy Presten, a public relations figure who managed the Stork Club and Copacabana during their heyday. Walter Winchell attempted to purchase his typewriter due to the appealing layout of the weekly items Sy sent him. However, Sy declined, and it seemed he continued using it throughout. When I first encountered Sy, he had an eclectic roster of clients that ranged from attorney Marvin Mitchelson, who coined the term palimony; Bob Guccione and his Penthouse magazine empire; the risqué musical Oh! Calcutta!; Midge Moore’s Midtown Tennis Club, and the proprietor of the Chock Full o’ Nuts coffee shop chain (by the ’90s, only one remained in New York). Sy frequently merged these clients into a single piece, calling them “chunks,” such as, “Bob Guccione and Marvin Mitchelson played a few matches at Midge Moore’s Midtown Tennis Club to celebrate the latest issue of Penthouse.” I must confess that I often pondered whether these combinations were real events, but here’s the kicker. Sy provided us with exceptional, exclusive stories – stories unrelated to his clients and garnering significant national attention – in exchange for his chunks. He became one of my most reliable sources and eventually a dear friend. Sy passed away in 2022 at the age of 98. One of his final wishes was to establish an archive with his papers. I currently have them stored, and it’s on my list of priorities to make this happen.
How does the Page Six of today compare with your time there?
Mulcahy: In essence, the internet and social media have made celebrities rivals for Page Six’s attention. As Page Six’s reach has grown beyond New York, it has had to adapt by focusing more on reality TV stars rather than the unique characters from New York that initially graced its columns.
DiGiacomo: And since the early 2000s, websites have been popping up that specialize in many subjects that were once Page Six’s domain: politics, Hollywood, media, restaurants, real estate and so on. It’s harder than ever to get a real scoop.
What is one thing that’s the same about Page Six then and now?
It’s usually possible to identify who provided an item. For instance, if Page Six reports about an event at the Metropolitan Museum, and Melinda Gates, Nicole Kidman, Bono, and attorney Shelly Bernstein are among the attendees, it’s likely that the individual who gave them the item is…
DiGiacomo One aspect I appreciate now is that the Page is back to being humorous again. For a while, it seemed more fact-based and less entertaining. I believe it’s Ian Mohr who has reintroduced the humor. These days, I often find myself chuckling out loud at the content. In my time, creating amusing pieces and employing clever puns – such as “courtus interruptus” to refer to a trial that was halted in a case with sexual implications – held equal importance as obtaining exclusive stories. Now, they’re managing to get Elon Musk to respond to their calls or emails, and they’ve produced excellent work on Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sánchez. I’m confident that Page Six was the first to break that story, if not the initial source – at the very least, I read about it there first. That kind of influence is potent today.
Were the editors of Page Six crazy characters themselves?
In a typical day, my column requires me to fill anywhere between eight and twelve articles, often more these days, which leaves little room for unusual behavior. However, among all the staff, Richard Johnson, who served as Page Six’s dedicated workhorse for about three years, comes the closest to breaking the mold. A suave socialite, Richard was frequently contacted by glamorous women with exotic names such as Bettina and Graziella. Despite his punctuality at work and diligent performance of duties, he occasionally took extended lunch breaks, leading us to suspect that these were secret rendezvous. However, during an interview for Paper of Wreckage, we discovered that these lengthy lunches were actually naps taken on the benches behind the Post‘s old building at 210 South Street, following a night out partying rather than clandestine affairs with Bettina or Graziella.
Richard had a knack for playfully handling persistent publicists who would bombard us with questionable news stories. One of his most entertaining responses was when he said, “Yes, I received your press release. It’s at the bottom of my pile,” before hanging up. He also understood that conflicts could boost readership. His banter with Mickey Rourke was quite amusing. Rourke disliked the articles about him, and at one point, he even challenged Richard to a boxing match. Richard agreed, but Rourke eventually withdrew from the match. Their disagreement lingered for a while, and I can’t recall whether Richard wrote in his Page Six or Daily News column after leaving the Post: “The only thing Mickey Rourke is fit to box is pizza.
One unusual cat among us at The Page was Alan Whitney, who held a position as our copy editor – a role often considered the equivalent of exile due to his past issues with management over allegations of sexual harassment. His misconduct included leaving lingerie on the desks and chairs of female journalists on their birthdays and repeatedly attempting to swat them. Prior to my arrival, he was known for sticking devil horns on his head on occasion.
Were you ever sued on Page Six?
Gamer Here: There were threats of lawsuits, but none were actually filed during my time there. We seldom made errors, and when we did, we promptly fixed them. Page Six articles were reported just like any other news story. It’s true that some parts of the Post may have taken liberties with accuracy, but not on Page Six. It’s ironic given its “gossip” label, but the editors at the Post understood that if Page Six started to publish inaccuracies, it would lose its charm.
DiGiacomo I’ve been involved in a lawsuit over a news report I contributed to, but it wasn’t related to Page Six. I can’t recall the specifics of the story, as it centered around Marla Maples’ publicist. For some time, I was on high alert, thinking every unfamiliar person might be a process server – until the publicist himself contacted me and withdrew my name from the suit. As for Page Six, my situation mirrored Susan’s. We received numerous threats – there were more than enough intimidating letters to cover my entire apartment, all from attorney Marty Singer warning us about legal repercussions if we published stories about the celebrity he had recently represented. However, our priority was always accuracy. Whenever any aspect of a story seemed questionable or potentially actionable, we consulted our lawyers.
How did Page Six affect you personally?
Mulcahy found himself in fortunate situations, like attending Swifty Lazar’s Oscar party and spending a weekend ballooning at Malcolm Forbes’ chateau in France. However, he was so identified as the editor of Page Six that finding work in other areas became difficult. I recall applying for a position in the Los Angeles bureau of the Wall Street Journal. I uncovered several Hollywood boardroom secrets, and Norm Pearlstine, who ran the Journal in the ’80s, believed I could be beneficial to their office. But the bureau chief was appalled at the thought of speaking with me. He treated me as if I were beneath him. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the job.
User: My job-hunting journey mirrored yours. Alongside the disrespect, I often heard comments like, “I’m not sure about your writing skills” due to the brevity of a typical Page Six article, usually no more than 100 words. Working there made me anxious for a while as I fielded numerous calls from people who seemed to be informing on their acquaintances, sometimes friends too, and from sources who were always on the lookout for a celebrity’s missteps. This led to feelings of being watched constantly. It took quite some time in therapy to overcome those feelings. However, I gained priceless insight into who held power and who were pretenders in New York and Hollywood. If I hadn’t worked at Page Six, I believe my career trajectory would have been distinctly different.
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2024-10-04 22:55