Extra! Extra! I worked at the National Enquirer

October 4, 2011

BY STEVE WINSTON

Yes, you read it right. I admit it. For two weeks, many years ago, I worked at The National Enquirer. There … I said it!

My story started in a raging 1978 blizzard that tied up the whole Northeast. And as I looked out my 11th-floor window at downtown Hartford that night, I decided I was moving to Florida.

A month or two later, I was glancing through an issue of “Editor & Publisher.” I came to the classified section. And then I saw it.

It was a half-page ad for an editor. For The National Enquirer. In a place called Lantana. Lantana, Florida! And they were offering a salary of $52,000 – eye-popping for a young guy in 1978.

I dashed off a resume. A week later, they called to invite me down to Florida for an interview.

I’ll never forget sitting on the runway at Hartford International Airport at 6 a.m., looking out at the pitch-black, watching the sleet and snow smash against my window. Three hours later, I landed in West Palm Beach, and walked out into a day with 76 degrees, swaying palm trees, and the bluest sky I’d ever seen.

In those days, the executives at The Enquirer were mostly British (if you’ve ever seen the big newspapers in Britain, you know why). And so I found myself being interviewed by an editor from Britain named “Ian” (which seemed to be the name of just about every other editor there, as well).

The interview was not particularly scintillating, I thought. Until mid-afternoon.

Then, all hell broke loose. Police barged in from two sides of the building. Women started screaming. Men started running.

Someone whispered to me that some of the Brits did not have green cards. And that one of the green-cardless Brits had apparently offered Elvis’ cousin $10,000 if he would open the casket for a few photos.

I was having trouble keeping a straight face. Much to my amazement, however, I was invited me back for a two-week mutual look-see. They’d put me up in a beachfront hotel. They’d pay all my transportation and food costs. And, oh, yes, they’d also pay me, at the pay-rate for the editor job … a thousand a week.

So I found myself back in Florida a month later.

It was an interesting experience, to say the least. Say what you will about the Enquirer, it did end up “scooping” mainstream media on some major stories. But I quickly decided, despite the $52,000 salary, that I preferred traditional journalism (and let’s leave it at that!).

So, toward the end of the two weeks, I walked in off the street to the Palm Beach Post. And they hired me as a reporter. For $12,000.

Soon after, I was on my way back down to Florida for keeps. And in a way, everything that’s happened in my life since then has been because of The National Enquirer.

Because of them, the only snow I see now is at the top of the mountains I climb.