By David Poland poland@moviecitynews.com
The Bagger Is Dead… Long Live The Bagger
I don’t know Melena Ryzik. I have nothing against Melena Ryzik.
But “The Carpetbagger” was David Carr… not Ms. Ryzik, nor “The Baguette,” aka Paula Schwartz, not Cieply or Barnes…
The smart people at the NYT should give Ms. Ryzik a break and let her start with her own catchy moniker. (It’s worth noting that she chose Awards Daily to tell her story and not any of the gossip sites.)
It was MCN that gave The Carpetbagger the nickname, “The Bagger.” This came some time after my first encounter with David Carr, at the Golden Globes party for The Lord of The Rings: Return Of The King. After enjoying the dulcet tones of Carr for the first time, in a loud space, I brought him to Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillipa Boyens… and before I left, he was dancing with Phil, spinning her with all the aplomb of a reporter who would be a legend.
Carr is a class act in a rough world. He is a true believer in journalism, women, music, and finding the exotic. He also mows a mean lawn.
I’ve never known him to be shy about who he liked… or who he did not. He is humble without ever sounding like he’s trying too hard to be so. And he loves being at the New York Times.
David has wanted out of Baggerdom for a couple of years. His regular beat is media and there is no busier, tougher, more intensely evolving beat short of war reportage right now. And now, it seems, he will embrace that beat without taking time away to cover the awards silliness. Media Decoder will be his blog on choice.
I will miss The Bagger. He never lost his cynicism about all of this stuff… even when he was wandering though a theoretical conversation about what was coming next. He didn’t always get it right. He got suckered now and again. But he was always sincere and always dredged up the enthusiasm.
Best of luck, Ms. Ryzik. I’m sure you’ll be great and I look forward to meeting you soon enough. Maybe you will have some suggestions for a proper nickname.
I’ll miss Carr’s brand of basement beat poetry. I don’t know if he seemed above all the Hollywood fluff, or just beside it.
In another room, glancing at the goings on, winking to the readers.