Until now, Dow Jones’s corporate problems have never impinged on the Wall Street Journal’s editorial content. Even though Peter Kann may not have run the business perfectly, he receives near-universal credit for preserving the quality of the paper. This is a big reason that the Bancroft family, the majority holders of Dow Jones stock, claim to have stood behind him through his troubled tenure. As their family lawyer, Roy Hammer, says, “I suppose it’s hard to conceptualize this accomplishment, but the Journal has avoided the pitfalls so many other publications have not avoided the last decade. It’s not luck. It’s based on high standards and adherence to those standards.” But now, with ad sales driving content, the fear (rational or not) is that the editorial side might follow the business side and allow its high standards to slip.

Reporters have some evidence to justify their concern. While resources have been funneled into coverage of what the Journal calls the “business of life”—that is, lifestyle journalism—core areas haven’t received the same lavish treatment. Management, for instance, has obsessively campaigned to keep “Money and Investing” stories under eighteen column inches. To reporters on complicated financial beats, this seems stingy, especially since “Personal Journal” stories often run at 24 inches. And while Lipman built “Pursuits” into a robust little empire, hiring dozens of reporters and staff, the rest of the paper has seen no similar bump in hiring, even though their workload will increase when there’s one more newspaper to fill up every week.

Reporters are also raising a spiritual objection about the turn toward consumerist coverage. It is fitting, therefore, that the plainest critique of this turn came from Barney Calame, the son of a fundamentalist preacher and an ecclesiastical figure in his own right. As the Journal’s deputy managing editor, he served as the paper’s unofficial moral arbiter, the embodiment of the old Wall Street Journal run by earnest Midwesterners. Last winter, after nearly 40 years at the paper, Calame headed into retirement. Colleagues memorialized the loss by hanging a slogan on a conference-room wall, WHAT WOULD BARNEY DO? Calame stayed true to his reputation up until one of the final parties celebrating his career, when he issued a subtle reprimand of Lipmanism. “Please be mindful of ordinary people in our society,” he intoned. “I fear we know a lot more about nannies and second homes than we do about day-care cooperatives and secondhand cars.”

Three months later, the Times called to offer Calame the chance to succeed Dan Okrent as the paper’s public editor, a post prestigious enough to draw any newspaperman out of retirement. When Peter Kann called, Calame expected a round of kudos. Instead, he received the opposite. “Peter accused him of disloyalty,” one of Calame’s close friends told me. “He really tore into him in a very personal and nasty way. He basically declared him persona non grata at the paper.” The great defender of old traditions had been excommunicated.

Weekend Edition” ’s debut coincides with a precarious moment for the company. Just more than two years from now, Peter Kann will join Steiger in retirement. As it ponders a new CEO, the Dow Jones board must ask: Can it afford to maintain the tradition of handing over the company to journalists? How it answers this question will decide between the two leading internal contenders, House and Zannino.

One board member participating in this discussion is Vernon Jordan, the venerable consigliere. Presidents and corporations turn to Jordan to perform delicate chores because the man knows how to keep a secret. But in his role at Dow Jones, he has complained with uncharacteristic bluntness. Jordan has told friends and acquaintances that he can’t believe the sluggishness and sloppiness of Dow Jones’s succession plans. “He’s grown quite disillusioned with Peter Kann,” says one Jordan friend. Where most companies like to anoint an heir apparent far in advance, Dow Jones is poised for a battle royal. “Vernon would rather avoid the whole mess.”

Kann bears most of the blame for the muddle. When he presents to the board, he doesn’t lay out a clear plan. Instead, he offers options and leaves it to his audience to discern his preferences. Several sources close to the board say that his preference is obvious. “He very much wants Karen to replace him,” says one.

Did Karen House deserve to rise up the corporate ranks, and if so, does she merit one more boost? She’ll never get a fair answer to that question. Her every promotion—from reporter to deputy foreign editor to foreign editor to head of international operations to publisher—has occurred on Peter Kann’s watch. Reporters joke about “The House That Kann Built” and “Karen Elliott Spouse.” And that’s the rub; the unmistakable whiff of nepotism hangs over her career at Dow Jones.