In all the years since its purchase by the adventurous Adolph Ochs right down to the present day under the superfluous Pinch Sulzberger, the New York Times has never been noted for levity. Quite the contrary, its rise to preeminence as the Newspaper of Record, the Gray Lady of West 43rd Street, was fueled by gravity. Austere, somber, exhibiting, in the Master's phrase, "a dearth of mirth," nary a jape or jest sullied her grim visage. Even the sports columns are overwhelmingly solemn. (I exempt from the annals of gloom Al Hirschfeld's brilliant theater caricatures abounding in wit and charming...
