- We were much younger then.
It was exactly seven years ago today that L Mag publisher Scott Stedman, sales captain Steve Hoyt, and little ol’ me jumped into a cube van at about 5:30am and drove off into to Manhattan to distribute the very first issue of The L Magazine, wrestling with thousands and thousands of slick new issues (it was a lot like dealing with a wheelbarrow full of young trout, if you know what I mean). Yup, that’s how innocent we were, reveling in the hands-on, “man of the people” satisfaction of a hard day’s work, getting in touch with “the street”—now we have interns to tie our shoes.
So, seven years… I honestly haven’t had that much to drink yet, so I’ll save the nostalgic reminiscences for later in the day, but I will say that no one, NO ONE, thought we’d still be around seven years later. Which is kind of a drag because it means I have to put my professional ice dancing aspirations on hold for one more year… Dare to dream, people.
In totally unrelated news, today, our birthday, is also a very bad day for iconic old New York. I’ve already mentioned that tonight’s your last night to get a drink at Freddy’s Bar before it gets torn down to make way for a Brooklyn Nets apparel store; well, on top of that, as of 8am this morning, St. Vincent’s is no longer really a hospital, so if you find yourself in sudden need of the ER after a night of heavy drinking at the White Horse, you’re screwed.
Oh, and the designer of those awesome, iconic Greek-themed coffee cups, Leslie Buck, has died.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY EVERYONE!