tomjunod

Often. I'm called to speak "The Falling Man" fairly regularly, and each time I do there's a moment when I contemplate the reality of his situation -- the choice he had to make, and what he might have been thinking on the way down -- and it never fails to give me the chills. It never, ever, gets old.

I saw Richard Drew's photo of The Falling Man on page 7 of the New York Times on the morning of 9/12/01, and knew immediately that I was going to write the story. And I mean, immediately -- because it seemed a portrait not just of a man about to die, but also of a world about to be born. And so it was.

I think we ought to write about women more, and write about them as we write about men. I mean, Esquire's a men's magazine, and so there are always going to be "appreciations" of female beauty. But we write about men, without thinking, Oh, this is a story about a man. We ought to do the same about women. Above all, I'd like to see us develop more female voices, and use more women as writers.

I've met Trump -- I wrote a story about him, oh, a long time ago. I don't think he's trying to make anybody feel dumb, or even that he's trying to turn the whole campaign into a circus. That's just the way he is. The interesting thing is that it makes people think he's authentic, think he's telling the truth, when he's flat out the most insincere person I've ever met. That he's ridiculously needy, and responds to everything situationally and by instinct, doesn't make him a truth teller.

Well, he's been a treasure trove for journalists, hasn't he? But there's lesson here, because his campaign has been driven by the fact that he doesn't sound like anybody else. He doesn't sound like a politician, so he can get away with stuff people think that politicians shouldn't say. But a lot of journalists want to sound like journalists. A lot of journalists want to sound like everybody else. Trump speaks to the advantage of having your own voice.