July 13, 1984—The improbable—no, preposterous—career of press baron Robert Maxwell took another unexpected turn, as he took control of the Mirror Group Newspapers (MGN)—and positioned himself for another down-and-dirty rumble with fellow yellow journalist Rupert Murdoch.
I’m not surprised by the allegations of phone hacking of private citizens by Murdoch’s minions in the U.K. After all, the publisher of the New York Post has never adequately explained how his paper was able to get a photo of serial killer David Berkowitz asleep in prison (an image that got plastered on the front pager with the headline, “SAM SLEEPS”).
I am surprised, however, by all that I hear about Maxwell. The amount and variety of his shenanigans continue to astound, 18 years after his mysterious death aboard his yacht.
Some years ago, on a field trip for librarians, someone on the tour recounted how Maxwell had offered her a job as an executive assistant. Initially, she was torn about taking it, because the money was so good. Eventually, she decided not to make the job switch because she did not want to lose precious time with her family by constantly being at Maxwell’s beck and call.
After Maxwell’s death, time wouldn’t have been the only commodity lost by the librarian. The scandal of Maxwell’s death was how much he had endangered the pensions of his employees.
Over the years—and especially with the premiere of the BBC adaptation of Anthony Trollope’s The Way We Live Now—Maxwell was often compared with Augustus Melmotte, the con artist extraordinaire at the heart of the Victorian masterpiece of high finance and meager ethics, especially on these counts:
* Both vaulted to the top of their professions using nefarious financial schemes.
I’m not surprised by the allegations of phone hacking of private citizens by Murdoch’s minions in the U.K. After all, the publisher of the New York Post has never adequately explained how his paper was able to get a photo of serial killer David Berkowitz asleep in prison (an image that got plastered on the front pager with the headline, “SAM SLEEPS”).
I am surprised, however, by all that I hear about Maxwell. The amount and variety of his shenanigans continue to astound, 18 years after his mysterious death aboard his yacht.
Some years ago, on a field trip for librarians, someone on the tour recounted how Maxwell had offered her a job as an executive assistant. Initially, she was torn about taking it, because the money was so good. Eventually, she decided not to make the job switch because she did not want to lose precious time with her family by constantly being at Maxwell’s beck and call.
After Maxwell’s death, time wouldn’t have been the only commodity lost by the librarian. The scandal of Maxwell’s death was how much he had endangered the pensions of his employees.
Over the years—and especially with the premiere of the BBC adaptation of Anthony Trollope’s The Way We Live Now—Maxwell was often compared with Augustus Melmotte, the con artist extraordinaire at the heart of the Victorian masterpiece of high finance and meager ethics, especially on these counts:
* Both vaulted to the top of their professions using nefarious financial schemes.
* Both were émigrés from the Continent (Maxwell, from Czechoslovokia, inevitably became known as the “Bouncing Czech”) who sought and gained political office in their adopted country (in the ‘60s, Maxwell served in the House of Commons as a Labour Party member).
* Both men died as their financial house of cards was about to collapse.
But Maxwell’s resemblance to Melmotte on a particular point brought out especially invidious comparisons, as well as the worst aspects of their accusers. Both men, it was noticed, were Jewish.
In Trollope’s time, anti-Semitism was a product of the right; in Maxwell’s, it had switched over to the left, many of whom over the last two decades have dismissed guesses that Maxwell accidentally drowned or (more likely) committed suicide. No, these new anti-Semites believe, Maxwell was killed on order of the Israeli secret service, Mossad. Or by the Russian Mafia. Or who knows who? Pick your favorite conspiracy theory. One’s as good as another.
The purchase of MGN was particularly heartening for Maxwell—it meant he not only had fulfilled his dream of owning a national paper but that he could finally take on Murdoch, who had defeated his 1969 attempt to purchase The News of the World.
Maxwell’s ambitions far outstripped his ability to keep his empire going, however. By the end of the ‘80s, he was in a merry-go-round of acquiring and disposing of one item after another: media groups, paper producers, printers, banks, insurance and leasing companies. Within a year of his death, his company filed for bankruptcy.
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