The Straight and Fair

By Thomas Griffith

When Henry R. Luce chose Hedley Donovan to be editor-in-chief of his magazines (TIME, LIFE, FORTUNE, SPORTS ILLUSTRATED), he described Donovan as a "mysterious and unknown character." Luce was only half joking. Yes, Donovan was largely unknown to the staffs of the bigger, weekly TIME and LIFE, although he had successfully edited FORTUNE, the smallest but not the least of the magazines Luce founded. Yet in characterizing Donovan as mysterious, Luce was on to something.

The mystery lay in Donovan's formidable presence, over 6 ft. of reserve and taciturnity. What Donovan's children called his Grim Look was often seen by his staff as a look of gathering impatience at someone's logic that he found faulty, or at writing that he considered careless, superficial, prejudiced or dull. "I have a few bothers with this," Donovan would begin in a low key, a sure sign of trouble ahead. He was not one for bantering when serious work was to be done; only when it was over did his colleagues glimpse his playful side, his hearty capacity for pleasure, and enjoy his self-deprecating wit (he would later subtitle his memoirs Forty Years in Journalism, Not Counting My Paper Route). A man of considerable intellectual gifts, Donovan all his life had been a straight arrow -- an eagle scout, a Phi Beta Kappa at the University of Minnesota, a Rhodes scholar at Oxford, a Navy Intelligence officer in World War II. He was as exacting of himself as of others.

The moment of transferring power from Luce to Donovan -- the year was 1964 -- was a precarious one for a publishing empire so much the creation of one strong-willed editor. Around the office, out of his hearing, Luce was referred to as "the proprietor" in ironic tribute to his dominance. Inside the company and out, Luce's journalistic genius was widely acknowledged, but critics often deplored his use of his magazines to further his own crusades.

Having decided to retire at 65 (he would live three more years), Luce assembled the editorial staffs of all his magazines at a grand dinner. As a press lord, Luce could convey the keys to his office to Donovan, but could he also transfer his astute popular touch? How would Donovan, editor of a business magazine that in those days came out monthly, handle the quicker rhythms and the flashier demands of TIME, LIFE and SPORTS ILLUSTRATED?

At the dinner Donovan made clear that he was ready to take charge and that things would be different. "We do indeed have some enemies to be proud of," he said, but also some "unnecessary enemies whom we acquired rather carelessly." That was as close as Donovan came to referring to election years when Luce's Republican prejudices had poisoned TIME's political coverage. Then came his pledge: "The vote of Time Inc. should never be considered to be in the pocket of any particular political leader or party." With that declaration Time Inc. came of age. Most remarkable of all, the change of policy had Luce's full approval: it had been Donovan's condition for taking the job.

For the next 15 years Donovan directed the transition from an enterprise centered on one man's quirky creative genius to a form of journalism that would be more responsible but risked becoming institutionally dull, gaining in respectability but losing something in flavor. Donovan had always admired the way Luce "shared authority without diluting it." Now it was Donovan's turn to preside over independent-minded editors and an unruly, talented collective of writers, each cherishing his own judgments. Donovan wanted to change TIME's "portentous and all-knowing tone," and gradually did. Setting fairness as the standard of the magazines he edited meant doing without the enlivening sting of malice. Donovan thought the writing should have "warmth without sloppiness; sharpness and snap without cruelty; worldliness without vulgarity."

As editor, Donovan enjoyed what he called his "box seat at history" and the company and conversation of knowledgeable Establishment figures. On his frequent travels to Moscow, Beijing, Washington and points in between, his careful preparation for interviews with heads of state often jarred leaders from their pat answers and uncandid evasions; he never settled for polite social visits. Tenacious in his beliefs, Donovan was a hawk about Vietnam long after most of the staff, including the editors, had turned against the war. Yet when LIFE proposed to devote its pages to pictures of one week's dead among servicemen in Vietnam, Donovan approved its publication. Later, despite his political conservatism, Donovan with his eagle-scout rectitude was appalled by Nixon's behavior during Watergate. He authorized the first and only editorial in TIME's history, urging President Nixon to resign.

Perhaps Donovan's saddest experience as editor was the shutting down of LIFE, which he regarded as part of the legacy Luce had entrusted to him. Few noticed the wording: LIFE had only "suspended" publication. Donovan had to wait six years to revive LIFE more modestly as a monthly. On Donovan's watch two successful magazines were born: MONEY and PEOPLE. The idea for PEOPLE came from Donovan's friend and colleague Andrew Heiskell, the chairman of the board of Time. Together the two, Donovan and Heiskell, did more than anyone else in the company to transfer to the next generation the qualities and standards that made Time Inc. -- like the CBS of William Paley's era in broadcasting -- a proud place to work.

In April, Donovan contracted a staphylococcal infection that spread to his . bloodstream. Underlying lung problems added to his difficulties. Last week, at the age of 76, he died.