“Where are you going at this time of day, Nosy?” Nancy says. We call each other “Nosy,” for “Nosy Parker”-the British slang term for a snoop. A minute or so later, he says, “Well, yes-can you come up right now?” The vowels, in his Beatles-esque accent, make the words sound a little like “coom oop.”Īt the elevator bank of The New Yorker, I run into Nancy Franklin, later to become the TV critic for the magazine. “Let me check with my assistant,” Evans says. It is 1995, and Evans and I have met at parties given by his wife, who happens to be Tina Brown, who happens to be the editor of The New Yorker. “I’d like to have a word with you,” he says. Harold Evans, the publisher of Random House, calls me at The New Yorker, where I work. Photo: SuperStock, Inc./(C) 1999 SuperStock, Inc.
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