Skip to content, or skip to search.

Skip to content, or skip to search.

Meet Roger Black


At the same time you would never, ever consider Roger a hack. Quite the opposite. Hacks deliver lesser, cheaper versions. Roger delivers Roger -- which is an extremely expensive product. What he does (he cleans up what is dirty, makes the old better-than-new, "makes everything crystalline," says the design writer Steven Heller), whether you like it or not, is as branded as, say, a Philip Johnson building. And like Johnson, Roger, smartly, puts the emphasis on his imprimatur rather than, strictly speaking, his creation -- after all, design can be erased, whereas the designer can't.

Indeed, one of Roger's favorite topics is his own career (in hindsight, I realize, this is just about all he talks about):

He grew up in West Texas; went to the University of Chicago in the sixties; got involved in underground publications -- becoming a designer, he says, by default rather than training (again, the effortlessness). He did a brief stint at a Texas ad agency (oddly, but importantly, he is contemptuous of commercial corporate design), went out to Los Angeles and another underground newspaper, and then to Rolling Stone, where he became one of the principal creators of the Rolling Stone look -- taking the underground mainstream. He emerged from the Rolling Stone culture as a top art director and joined first New York, then the New York Times, and then Newsweek. In the mid-eighties, leaving Newsweek, he embraced the Macintosh. The advent of the Mac is a pivotal moment in design -- roughly equivalent to the arrival of the spreadsheet in finance or sound in movies or the sitcom in comedy. PhotoShop and Quark became the job. Every designer had to relearn the trade. Roger, the first to relearn, became the most expert, and the most passionate (and, at least to other designers, the most condescending).

Then, with his Rolling Stone colleague Terry McDonell -- at Rolling Stone, Black and McDonell launched Outside -- Roger created Smart, the first all-desktop-published magazine, backed by Owen Lipstein, the publishing entrepreneur, who was shortly to enter roiled financial waters. In Lipstein's telling, this roiling is the result of Smart's huge financial drain. But no matter.

There is a famous moment in the annals of design when, the Lipstein empire facing bankruptcy in late 1990, the landlord holding Lipstein's assets (including computers) hostage, Roger stages an office Christmas party. Toward midnight, Roger mounts a desk and explains that he would like everyone to leave the building carrying a festively decorated shopping bag in which will be a found not a gift but a component part of one of his many Macintosh workstations. Outside, cars are waiting to transport Roger Black, Inc., to new offices at the Hearst Corporation, where McDonell has become Esquire's editor-in-chief.

At this moment, Roger arrives where he was obviously meant to be. Claeys Bahrenburg, the head of Hearst Magazines, is, along with McDonell, a crony from Rolling Stone. What's more, Will Hearst, the most prominently placed member of the younger Hearst generation, is also a Rolling Stone alum and a Black chum. Roger's atelier moves into space at Esquire's offices; Roger draws a monthly consulting retainer as the design director at Esquire and as the grand design consultant to the Hearst company. The idea is that Roger will become a kind of Alexander Liberman at Hearst, except that Roger will be free to work, from his Hearst offices, on his many other non-Hearst projects and assignments.

While on the Hearst premises and a Hearst retainer, Roger and his aide-de-camp, Michael Goff, create and raise the financing for Out magazine (Roger himself, in his mid-forties and previously married, comes out during this period); at the same time, he is operating an office in Milan; designing newspapers in cities around the world; co-partnering at the Font Bureau, a digital-type house (a Roger design almost always involves a new typeface that is licensed from the Font Bureau); and launching Interactive Bureau, his Web-design agency. (The Web, desperately seeking to look real, mainstream, official, is ideally suited to the Roger treatment.) Under McDonell and Black's stewardship, Esquire hits the skids. But no matter. After McDonell is removed from Esquire and Bahrenburg booted from Hearst, Roger joins Will Hearst at TCI-backed @Home. In due time, @Home goes public in a whopping IPO. This month, numerous magazines and Websites later, Interactive Bureau, as well as various other parts of the far-flung Black empire, merges with, a public company controlled by advertising-agency aggregator Snyder Communications.

Amid these pyrotechnics of modern business -- alliances, partnerships, consulting deals, equity arrangements, start-ups, ever-expanding employee rosters -- there is Roger, detached, cool, virtual, rich, ever more elusive, ever more in demand (almost all his clients end up calling him, mostly with affection, Roger the Dodger). Roger, in other words, attains what in the Internet business is called scalability. There are just no limits to how pervasive he can be.

But the question still isn't answered: How does he do it? Or, as important, how does he make it look so easy?

"Roger wrote me a letter the day we closed," says the new tabloid czar David Pecker, formerly head of Hachette Filipacchi. "He said we had a real opportunity to make history together. Our properties, he said, are a part of American pop culture. The National Enquirer is an American icon. He came out to a sales meeting and explained his vision to people who have spent their whole careers on tabloids, people who don't know who Roger Black is. He won them over in the first meeting. He inspired them."

It makes sense, sort of. While it's a stretch to call the National Enquirer an American icon -- it's only iconography in the camp sense -- hiring Roger is aspirational. A Roger design helps you deal with your insecurities (The New Republic and Foreign Affairs have insecurities perhaps not so different from the National Enquirer's). Roger moves you toward where you want to be. At the front of the newsstand. At a power lunch. At the heart of pop culture. And, of course, wherever it is that IPOs take place. This is convergence. A Roger design makes you look like money -- which is not a design statement you'll ever need to explain to anybody. Then, too, when you hire Roger, at least on those occasions when you get to see him, you'll enjoy him -- "just the nicest guy," says Pecker, "and so brilliant."

With Roger, almost everyone feels it's the beginning of a beautiful friendship.



Current Issue
Subscribe to New York

Give a Gift