The Crisis That Whimpered

For most publishers reporting to work the morning of August 18, spoiled yogurt in the office refrigerator and appointments needing to be rescheduled were the only reminders left of the worst blackout in U.S. history. As in businesses throughout the affected area—especially in New York—the flickering of the lights set off terrorism fears, which quickly dissolved into the headaches of getting home sans trains. But coming at a time of year when the publishing industry is all but dormant, the blackout mostly amounted to a play day for those unfortunate enough not to already be on vacation.

As calamities go, the New York Times's Olson profile will live on in publishing lore long after the blackout fades from memory. "It was like a long weekend," said Tracy Carns, associate publisher of Overlook Press. "When we got in today everything was up and running."

Not every publisher escaped unscathed. Avalon Publishing Group, which moved offices the week of August 11, was to have had its phones hooked up that Friday. "It looks like our phones could be delayed as much as a week," said Avalon publisher Neil Ortenberg. "No one at our phone company is answering our calls. I've tried everything, from begging to threats." A smattering of author events slated for Thursday and Friday had to be postponed or canceled. Quality Paperback Book Club was planning to honor Yann Martel at a luncheon Friday and now must find an alternate date that fits into the busy author's schedule.

There were a few acts of heroism: one Soft Skull Press intern lugged 20 hardcover books 50 blocks back to the office after a reading by Andrew Lewis Conn of his book P was canceled Thursday evening. IT employees, who rarely get much glory at publishing houses, also ended up saving the day, as editors logged on August 18 to find their computers functioning as usual.

Most of the inconveniences caused by the blackout were personal, not business. Stranded staffers spent that Thursday night at the office or made forced treks in the wrong shoes to crash on friends' couches. And like people in other industries, many made the best of their enforced time off. At Seven Stories Press, located in the shadow of ground zero, once employees were assured they weren't under terrorist attack, they gathered on the loading dock and spent the afternoon drinking cocktails.