celebrity gossip, academic style

Note: The following is a rough draft of a section of the ending section of my dissertation, which covers the history of celebrity gossip from 1948 - the present. I apologize to any gestures to previous arguments — I’ve tried to remove them for the purpose of the blog post, but some might have snuck in. As always, I would *love* feedback — especially concerning your memories of this time, whether related the explicit competition between the two magazines or the celebrity “frenzy” that occurred in its wake.

In 2002, Time Inc. CEO Anne Moore was on the defensive. Despite People Magazine‘s robust ad sales and steady circulation numbers, the publication was under attack: with a new, high-profile editor and a $35 million investment from Disney, Us Weekly, the magazine long known as “Jann Wenner’s Vietnam,” was launching an assault.

Jann Wenner, founder of Rolling Stone and editor of Us Weekly

Wenner had funneled $10.3 million into purchasing placement for his magazine in the check-out line, right besides People. He and his gifted editor, Bonnie Fuller, were poking fun at People in the press, ridiculing its dated look and focus on human interest. For many, Wenner and Fuller’s rankling ran true: as one side-by-side review of the magazines exclaimed, “The cover of People is boxy, dated and stale, while the cover of Us is fresh and fancy-free…..IT’S NOT THE 1970S ANYMORE, PEOPLE!”^[i] For over twenty five years, People had fended off all challengers, including the long-beleaguered Us, which had undergone a tedious series of makeovers in hopes of finding a format and editorial voice that resonated with readers. In 2002, the magazine’s tone, content, and promotional seemed to have finally coalesced. Us Weeky had become a gossip presence that demanded reckoning.

"It's not the 1970s anymore, People!"

Time Inc. was adamant, however, that there was no “horse race” between the two magazines. “I don’t see them as a direct competitor,” Moore explained, “They’re not hurting People in any way. I think what [Us editor] Bonnie [Fuller] has done is quite interesting…but she’s running a much more witty, upscale-tabloid. People is a human interest magazine. People is fine. People is strong.”^[ii] Fuller took expected umbrage: “I think of Us as a newsmagazine. We don’t take a tabloid approach. They hide in tall grass and catch celebrities. We want to show them at their best.”^[iii] And Us has ethics: “we’re very careful that everything we print is true, and we have a lot of reporters, and we fact check and confirm [rumors] with publicists,” she explained.^[iv] “We always go to the publicist and discuss what we have — absolutely always.”^[v]

Despite public statements to the contrary, by 2002, the rivalry between People and Us had come to a head. This, as the title of a Washington Post article made clear, was a “celebrity deathmatch,” featuring two brilliant young editors, two obstinate and entrenched publishers, and two disparate approaches to the way that celebrity should be covered in the 21st century. ^[vi] The battle still rages today, with no sign of a clear victor. Yet Us did not so much take a segment of People’s readership as much as it created a new set of readers, composed of men and women who desired a dramatic approach to celebrity that was heavy on images, light on the words. In so doing, Us — its reliance on paparazzi photography, its mercurial rise, its competition with People — helped foster a perception of celebrity culture gone wild.

This chapter details the specifics of the battle between the two magazines, with particular attention to the innovations on the part of Us that forced People and the rest of the gossip industry to reconsider the way they approached and packaged celebrity discourse. I argue that Us weds the most effective components of the tabloid and the traditional fan magazine, resulting in a publication that appeals to readers’ desires to both venerate and denigrate celebrities and celebrity culture. The result: a magazine that mirrors the conception of stars and celebrities as the conflation of the extraordinary and the ordinary, deified and defiled, “just like Us” on one page and absolutely nothing like us the next.

The success of Us — and the so-called celebrity death match between it and other celebrity publications — also heightened the visibility of celebrity gossip. Us’ editorial style relied heavily on paparazzi photos; the resultant demand created a frenzy that came to a head in 2005, when several celebrities were nearly injured in their attempts to escape photographers seeking a candid, potentially scandalous shot. The rivalry also spawned a bevy of imitators, including Life & Style, In Touch, and an American version of OK Magazine, increasing the visibility of celebrity publications at the newsstand. Finally, the conglomerates with full or partial interest in People and Us (Time Warner and Disney, respectively) leveraged the magazines’ brand recognition and content across holdings, enervating newscasts, sports channels, and daytime talk shows with gossip tidbits and branded content. The result: a sense of celebrity ubiquity that would only be exacerbated by the continued spread of New Media.

The competition between Us and People was ostensibly about subscribers and ad rates. But as this chapter will show, the ramifications of the competition spread far beyond the accountant’s office, affecting the conglomerated media landscape, the relationship between consumers and celebrities, and the perceived place of celebrity in contemporary culture. I have divided the chapter into three sections: the first will detail Us’ “makeover” from the initial move to weekly publication to Fuller’s innovations in 2002-2003. The second section focuses on People’s retrenchment following Us’ upsurge, as well as the efforts on the part of Fuller’s successor, Janice Min, to further refine the Us editorial voice. The third and final section addresses the industrial and cultural ramifications of the Us/People rivalry, looking to the ways in which elements of the contemporary frenzy (and anxiety) that attends celebrity culture may be traced to the competition between the two magazines.

Us Goes Weekly

In 1999, Us Magazine was regarded as “Wenner’s folly.”^[vii] Since Wenner gained full control of the magazine in 1989, Us had continually bled money and resources. In the ‘90s, Wenner had shifted the focus and form of the magazine to entertainment news and long-form journalism, hoping to compete with Entertainment Weekly and Premiere. Yet Us’ circulation remained mired in the sub-million range throughout the decade, with consistently poor newsstand sales. Analysts estimated that Wenner was still losing $10 million a year on the magazine, which had yet to turn a profit in his decade as full owner. But Wenner was determined for Us to succeed, and funneled $50 million in recapitalization towards market research, hiring new staff, and yet another overhaul of the magazine in 1999.^[viii] The overarching goal: make it weekly, and make it cool. The newly christened Us Weekly would eschew insider industry coverage: “You want to read about Mike Ovitz, you’ve got to look somewhere else,” Wenner explained, alluding to Ovitz’s prominent coverage in EW, a magazine he elsewhere dismissed as “boring.”^[ix] Us Weekly would focus on “entertainment personalities,” but of a different generation than People. When the competition was covering Burt Reynolds, Cher, and Barbra Streisand, Us would feature upcoming stars Brad Pitt and Gwyneth Paltrow.

While Us would still provide reviews of movies and television shows in an effort to appeal to Hollywood advertisers, it would also expand its fashion coverage. In 1994, Time Inc. had successfully launched InStyle, a monthly publication that wed celebrity, fashion, and style.

Instyle, c. 1995.

InStyle’s cover always featured a celebrity, while the inside eschewed the traditional fashion shoot for catalog-style layout, where clothing, jewelry, shoes, etc. were labeled with their price and source in a manner that naturally appealed to advertisers. Wenner claimed that the mix of fashion and style had, in fact, been born at Us; with twelve pages devoted to fashion, the revamped Us Weekly would “claim the franchise back.”^[x]

The magazine would also change its attitude towards celebrities, both aesthetically and relationally. Inside the magazine, editors allowed large spaces for paparazzi photos, treating them “as if they were fine works of art.”^[xi] Us also aimed to cultivate a “celebrity-friendly” image for the magazine, promising to play nice in exchange for first-hand access to the stars. “We’re not here to deal with people’s dirty secrets or expose secrets they don’t choose to expose,” Wenner explained. “These are not politicians; these are not public officials…They’re entertainers, they’re artists, and they deserve our respect.”^[xii] In practice, Wenner’s philosophy meant that Us would publish the narrative proffered by celebrities and their publicists. Wenner might not have allowed press agents to write the stories for him, as they did for the classic fan magazines, but he was willing to paint a flattering portrait of a star in exchange for his/her involvement with the magazine.

When Us vowed to “play nice” with celebrities, it was taking a distinct tact from People. People was widely known for its soft-ball approach to celebrity culture: the magazine aimed to put a positive spin on public events, whether related to celebrities, political mishaps, or natural catastrophes. But as a Time Inc. publication, People also had a journalistic standards to uphold: as editor Martha Nelson explained, “When it comes to the worlds of celebrity and entertainment, I don’t think there’s a better news gathering organization. It’s about fairness, facts, and fact-checking. It’s about having the story right and operating with the kind of ethics that are the hallmark of the company.”^[xiii] What Us bad-mouthed as a “write around” — a story in which authors write “around” the fact that they do not access to its subject — People might deem an “objective story.”^[xiv]

As much as Nelson’s words evidence certain editorial spin, they also spoke to the fact that People refused to associate itself with a story that lacked confirmation or was of dubious accuracy, in part because any ethical misstep could potentially mar the Time Inc./Time Warner brand. To ensure this level of accuracy, People had more than editorial staffers devoted to fact checking and research; in contrast, Us had less than 50.^[xv] The difference between the two editorial policies should be clear: Us was willing to overlook journalistic integrity in favor garnering favor with celebrities. For Us, this was not a matter of shame — it gleefully forfeited any responsibility for reporting “fair and balanced’ celebrity news. Indeed, Us was not news at all; it was gossip, i.e. discourse about the stars, neither confirmed nor denied. What Us lacked in journalistic credibility, it gained in pure tantalization.

Wenner was confident in Us’ ability to attract star cooperation, even if only due to their frustration with the competition. As he explained in the weeks leading up to the relaunch, “Eighty to ninety percent of the stars will not talk to People. They don’t like it. They don’t feel comfortable in it. People has a bad reputation out there — it looks pedestrian, it’s not very elegant. They’ve hurt a lot of people out there; they’ve burned a number of people.”^[xvi] Wenner cited no specifics, but he was likely referring to the fact that celebrities and their publicists disliked the lack of control over the final People product, and that a young, upcoming star may not want to associate him/herself with a magazine that skewed towards the middle-class and middle-aged.

Whatever objections celebrities might have had, the fact remained that People’s circulation dwarfed that of Us, automatically making it a more desirable forum to promote themselves and their projects. As Simon Halls, then-publicist to Paltrow, Jennifer Aniston, and a host of other stars explained, People not only has a “huge readership,” but “a high level of credibility” with readers.^[xvii] It was also a known quantity. In contrast, Halls was wary of working with Us, which, through its ample use of paparazzi photography and focus on grading celebrities’ fashion choices, had become “much less controllable.”^[xviii] Wenner was aiming to change that reputation, but the fact remained that any gossip magazine that relied on paparazzi images would have difficulties sustaining relationships with stars.

While Wenner worked to change the look and reputation of the magazine, he was also attempting to turn Us into a highly visible publication with tremendous single-copy sales. Most magazines, including People, focused on building solid groups of subscribers. Slashed subscription rates may have “[brought] little or nothing to the bottom line,” yet subscribers composed a attractive community to potential advertisers.^[xix] With a solid if unspectacular subscription base of 515,167, Us took a different tact. Instead of promoting subscriptions, Wenner worked to push single copy sales, which would yield a far larger profit margin and shoulder a larger proportion of the magazine’s bottom line. When Us gained enough momentum via new readers, then Wenner could worry more about attracting a larger subscription base and new advertisers.

To bolster single-copy sales, Wenner pursued a two-prong strategy. First, he funneled $10.3 million into the rental of “choice real estate” in the check-out aisle of supermarkets and other mass market outlets, putting Us Weekly side-by-side with People in 150,000 outlets.^[xx] Second, Wenner and his editorial team spent over a year refining the “art of crafting covers that will entice young women,” mixing young celebrity with romance, fashion, and drama. ^[xxi] The long-term goal: close in on People’s 1.4 million in newsstand sales. In the short term, Us was aiming for a 40 percent sell through rate, which could pull the magazine into profitability within eighteen months.

The first issue of Us Weekly, on newsstands March 17, 2000, was a perfect manifestation of the new Us philosophy, featuring a smiling Julia Roberts. The inside of the magazine boasted an exclusive interview and portfolio of photos featuring Roberts, plus eleven pages devoted to fashion.^[xxii] The interview and photos was sanctioned; the tone was light and airy; the cover was aimed directly at young women. But People refused to play nice, and “ambushed” Us Weekly one week before its premiere with its own Roberts cover.^[xxiii]

The accompanying story was a vintage “write-around,” using old photos and quotes from Roberts’ former directors, current boyfriends, and other intimates to make up for People’s lack of access to the star. While Us obviously had the real prize, People had deflated the launch of the new magazine — and declared its intention to compete.

Us Goes Disney

No matter of market research could make up for the fact that under the relatively small Wenner Media, Us Weekly still lacked capitol, solid distribution, and promotion. Three months after the relaunch, poor sales forced Wenner to lower the ad rate base from 1 million to 800,000.^[xxiv] By December 2000, Us was in free fall: overall circulation was down 17% to 828,000, single copy sales plummeted 38%, and Wenner had reportedly burned through $30 million.^[xxv] Salvation arrived in February 2001, when Disney exchanged a $35 million investment for a 50% stake in the Us.^[xxvi] While the deal was deemed a “life raft sale,” the benefits were manifold. For Us, it meant an infusion of capital, assistance with distribution, and a web of promotional connections that Wenner Media had simply been unable to provide. Wenner trumpeted the “myriad circulation opportunities” allotted through the connection with Disney: they could place Us subscription cards in Disney videotapes and DVDs aimed at young women, for example, or in the 40,000 Disney-owned hotel rooms. ^[xxvii]

For Disney, Us was pure promotional potential. Granted, the magazine may have been steadily losing money and readers, but Disney wanted a print promotional outlet to pair with its investment in the E! Entertainment Channel. Us was exactly the sort of “nonaggressive, celebrity-friendly, synergy-ready” product that Disney desired — a means to “spicen-up [sic]” properties across the conglomerate.^[xxviii] Disney head Michael Eisner eagerly listed off a litany of potential synergies: ABC could develop an Us-branded awards shows; ABC morning programs (Good Morning America, The View) would air Us Weekly gossip segments; Us-branded news reports would air on the ABC radio network; the ESPN channel and magazine could partner to showcase celebrity athletes.^[xxix]

Media analysts were quick to point out that Us was the kind of property Disney needed in order to compete with the newly expanded AOL Time Warner. As outlined in Chapter Eight, AOL Time Warner had failed to fully capitalize on the potential of its multiple promotional arms throughout the ‘90s, and while Time Warner’s acquisition of AOL would soon prove a miscalculation, it nevertheless spurred Disney — which had recently shuttered its long-struggling online portal, Go.com — to seek further means of cross-promotion. In an interview with Mediaweek, Optimedia chairman Gene DeWitt pinpointed the problem: Disney lacked a “showcase for their stars comparable to what Warner Bros. and New Line [both under Time Warner] have with People, EW, and InStyle…the world has become so competitive in promotion that you need every venue you can get to tell people what you’re doing.”^[xxx] In other words, Disney needed an outlet that could provide explicit, timely promotion of its stars.

But it also needed that celebrity outlet to play nice. Of the conglomerates that had come to dominate the media landscape over the course of the ’80 and ‘90s, Disney was known not only for its tight diversification, unified vision, and tremendous synergy, but for its insistence on maintaining a positive, family-friendly image. Disney and scandal simply did not mix. When Eisner and Wenner announced the investment, both were emphatic in their claim that Us was no scandal rag: in Eisner’s words, “As a company, we’re not interested in angst and edginess and scandal. We are not interested in insulting people who work for us.” Or, as Wenner added, people “we do business with.”^[xxxi]

Us’ would not hew to this philosophy for long: starting in 2002, it began printing negative gossip bits and tipping its stories with scandal. Yet such an attitude was rarely, if ever, applied to Disney, its stars, or its productions. At the same time, both Wenner and Eisner were quick to maintain Us’ editorial independence. Eisner pointed out that a recent issue of Us featured the cast of Temptation Island, a reality program airing on Fox, and gave a poor grade to Recess: School’s Out, the latest animated feature from Disney. Us would continue to run features on non-Disney celebrities and products, and give deserving grades to Disney products, because, as Eisner explained, “if people think Disney has the edge, [Us] will lose [its] ability to attract other media.”^[xxxii]

Yet as the Disney synergy machine took control, the ties between the magazine and the conglomerate became increasingly explicit. Within months of the agreement, ABC News began feeding a 90-second “Us Report” to ABC affiliates, Us-branded segments popped up on The View and Good Morning America, and a massive cross-promotion on “The World’s Sexiest Athletes” joined online content, a ninety-minute ESPN special, and an Us feature on “hottest jocks.”^[xxxiii] The goal: bring Us’ female audience to Disney’s male-skewing properties. According to Us’ liaison to Disney, the collaboration exemplified “what we can bring the table that [Disney] couldn’t get from other in-house properties.”^[xxxiv] In other words, Us was providing the hoped-for “spice” across Disney’s conglomerate content.

Bonnier Fuller’s Us Weekly

Under Disney’s wing, Us began to stabilize. But the magazine’s true turnaround began in February 2002, when Wenner announced that Bonnie Fuller would join Us Weekly as editor-in-chief. Fuller transformed Us from a magazine with a vague celebrity identity into a distinct brand, cultivating an approach to celebrity culture that clearly differentiated it from People. She wed the most assuring aspects of the fan magazine, many of which were already staples of Us, with the most compelling components of the tabloid, significantly upping the use of paparazzi photography. Under Fuller, Us found a midway point between fawning and mean, between sickly-sweet and sarcastic. It recognized celebrities as something unique — something worthy of readers’ attention — but at the same time, humanized them in a way that made it easy to invest in their personal lives and problems.

Bonnie Fuller

In this way, Fuller made the travails of celebrities matter. As Richard Dyer explains, “stars matter because they act out aspects of life that matter to us; and performers get to be stars when what they act out matters to enough people.”^[xxxv] To slightly modify Dyer’s statement, personalities get to be celebrities when what they act out — or what gossip magazines construe them as acting out — matters to enough people. Through her invocation of loves won and lost, Fuller, more than any other editor since the halcyon days of Photoplay and Modern Screen, made celebrities and their stories seem significant and worthy of extended investment. The more these celebrities and their ongoing narratives mattered, the more readers would feel compelled to follow them on a weekly basis. While the maxim was not novel — every editor knows that reader investment is the most reliable way to sell a story — Fuller was able to spin celebrity narratives in a way that seemed at once indulgent and irresistible. She was using all the old fan magazine tricks, but dressing them in sexy, slightly scandalous clothing.

Fuller achieved this feat through an overhaul of the magazine’s approach to celebrity, even when it entailed challenging Wenner and Disney’s editorial philosophy of “playing nice” with celebrities. But no one could accuse Fuller of blindsiding her bosses: she came to Us with a reputation as a wild card who, in her previous positions at YM, Marie Claire, Cosmopolitan, and Glamour had used sex and glamour to boost circulation through whatever means necessary.^[xxxvi] Fuller was not one to play by conglomerate rules: in June 2001, Conde Nast had ousted Fuller as editor-in-chief of Glamour after she published a “write-around” on Catherine Zeta-Jones, knowing full well that Glamour’s sister publication and superior, Vogue, had slated an exclusive interview for the same month.^[xxxvii] Fuller evidentially had few qualms alienating or offending conglomerate siblings, so long as it contributed to her product’s bottom line. As will become clear, Fuller’s philosophy yielded a sharp increase in Us’ overall circulation, but began to alienate Disney in the process.

Fuller was hailed for her “brilliant cover sensibilities,” which she immediately applied to Us Weekly.^[xxxviii] Instead of simply profiling or interviewing a young celebrity, Fuller employed “steamy, eye-popping cover lines” to make the celebrity’s story “as clear as possible and as dramatic as possible.”^[xxxix] The goal: exploit readers‘ desire to know the answers to their intimate questions about a celebrity and his/her love life. In June 2002, Fuller placed Jennifer Lopez and estranged husband Cris Angel on the cover, emphasizing their break-up through a dramatic tear down the middle of the photo. She and her staff deliberated over headlines offering to answer “What Went Wrong,” “Why It’s Over,” and “Why They Split” — variations on the very question they thought readers would be wondering when they learned the news of the separation.^[xl]

Other covers offered to answer similar queries: “The Inside Story: Reese — What’s She Really Like,” “Mariah: What Really Happened,” “Eminem - His Women & His World,” “Will They Ever Have Babies?” and “American Idol: Kelly’s Untold Story.”

“Just like Us”

Inside the magazine, Fuller’s editorial maxim was simple: “Nobody likes to read.” Or, more precisely, nobody “likes to read about celebrities, since celebrities don’t have much to say and we presume they’re lying to us anyway.”^[xli] The way to sell a celebrity magazine, then, was not through long-form stories, but pure aesthetic affect — a cornucopia of oversized headlines, graphs, doodles, and abundance of photos. Fuller thus took the existing format for the front section of the magazine, then filled with a mix of large, striking photos, and applied it to the length of the magazine. The new Us Weekly was, in essence, a heavily captioned celebrity photo album; you didn’t read the magazine so much as look at it.^[xlii]

But Fuller needed photos to fill those pages — and would depend on the paparazzi to provide them. As outlined in Chapter Five, paparazzi culture began to spread in Europe in the ‘50s and ‘60s, concurrent with the demise of the star and studio system and the rise of unsanctioned gossip. The National Enquirer and other tabloids had relied on paparazzi photography since the ‘70s; even “respectable” publications, including Us and People, had periodically used paparazzi shots to illustrate stories with reticent subjects. Celebrities had fought back against the incursion of paparazzi photographers and videographers — in 1996, George Clooney and the cast of ER launched a boycott against Entertainment Tonight for incursions on the part of its sister show, Hard Copy, forcing the show to foreswear paparazzi footage.^[xliii] Negative sentiment came to a head following the death of Princess Diana, whose car crashed while attempting to flee a group of photographers in Paris, France. In the aftermath, the press demonized both the paparazzi and the hunger for intimate photos that fueled it. But no matter of guilt could disrupt the supply and demand for unsanctioned photos.

Us had used paparazzi photography in the past, but under Fuller, it became the magazine’s staple. Until the late ‘90s, paparazzi had been a rarified vocation: unless contracted to a specific agency, a individual paparazzo had to bear the cost of an expensive camera, miles of film, development, and distribution. But with the rise of New Media and digital technologies at the turn of the millennium, it had become increasingly easy — and cheap — to track a celebrity’s quotidian activities. Anyone with a digital camera, navigational knowledge of Los Angeles, an internet connection and a bit of gumption could take and sell photos of celebrities. The result was a veritable sea of photos — at premieres and special events, of course, but also leaving the gym, bringing their kids to school, and power-lunching at The Ivy. Fuller put staff members to work, seeking images in which two celebrities wore the same outfit, committed “beauty violations,” or experienced some sort of wardrobe “malfunction.” She also used paparazzi and stock photos to craft collages that tread the ground between whimsy and vitriol: “Us Investigates: The Celebrity Tan Line,” for example, arranged the decoupaged heads of thirty celebrities in a spectrum from “Casper” to “Tanorexic.”^[xliv]

Fuller also developed a new recurring feature, ingeniously titled “Stars: Just Like Us.” Each week, Us printed four to eight paparazzi shots of celebrities performing the most mundane and pedestrian of actions: shopping at the grocery store, tying their shoes, leaving the house with the price tag still affixed to their jeans. One week paired the headline “Stars: Just like Us….” with a photo of Spice Girl Geri Halliwell carrying a toilet plunger, appropriately captioned “….they even unclog toilets!”^[xlv]

A more recent iteration, now titled "Stars: They're Just Like Us!" (The caption on the lower left has been altered; silly internet photoshoppers)

For another feature, entitled “Jennifer’s On and Off Days,” Us paired photos of Jennifer Aniston looking “On” (“Low-cut and lovely in a silk Valentino dress”) and “Off” (“Refreshingly laid-back about looking shlubby in public”). Captions encouraged readers to relate to Aniston’s variegated fashion personality: the subtitle declares “isn’t it nice to know that Jennifer Aniston…isn’t all-out glam 24/7?” while an insert of “Her Hair Highs and Lows” asserted “Jennifer’s do isn’t always the epitome of sleekness. (Who can’t relate?)”^[xlvi] Us’ strategy with such articles was duo-fold: by establishing that celebrities, for all of their wealth and glamour, also had bad hair days, had to schlep groceries, and wore sweatpants, Us was not only puncturing the myth of celebrity perfection, but encouraging reader identification in the process.

Unlike the tabloids, Fuller rarely publish photos of celebrities at their very worst: Us did not truck in photos of cellulite or sagging breasts; “Just like Us” was never used to point out that the reader was also afflicted by cellulite and receding hairlines. Yet Fuller did not shy from using captions to manipulate photos to support a headline: a seemingly scowling Ben Affleck, for example, could be captioned to suggest relational turmoil. Fuller also used digital doodles — “headlines stamped over photos, little buttons of color trumpeting juicy bits, scribbled notations” — to simultaneously differentiate photos from those printed in other publications and create a sense of bubbly levity.^[xlvii] The graphics underscored Us‘ similarity to a fan scrapbook, only the editor, rather than the reader, collected the photos, penned gossipy captions, paired of dream couples, ridiculed crazy outfits, and absent-mindedly doodled in the margins.

Fuller employed this mix of paparazzi photography, “Just like Us,” and digital doodles to humanize celebrities, highlighting the very ordinary components to their otherwise extraordinary existences. From the beginning of the star system, fan magazines and studio publicity had emphasized the ordinary components of stars — they raise children, they work hard, they do the laundry, they cook dinner, they grill steaks.^[xlviii] But these efforts to humanize stars were always carefully calculated: a Photoplay story highlighting Debbie Reynolds‘ domesticity never portrayed her looking haggard or disheveled as she kept house; her “ordinary” life was still inflected with glamour. In contrast, Us’ use of unsanctioned paparazzi photography showed that celebrities could not only be ordinary, but distinctly non-glamorous, even unkempt.

Low-Brow, High-Class

Us targeted women, but it was not intended as a stereotypical women’s magazine. As Fuller explained, “At Us, we don’t care about your problems.”^[xlix] There would be no recipes, no sympathetic profiles of cancer survivors, no question-and-answer columns; Us was neither Good Housekeeping nor Cosmpolitan. Rather, the magazine would cater to “people in their 20s and 30s who like celebrities and who like style.” More bluntly, Us was not “a magazine that’s looking to solve a lot of insecurities a woman might have.”^[l] In this manner, Us deviated from traditional fan magazines, which, at their height, had catered to women of all ages with an ample dose of “how-tos,” instructions on generating self-confidence, editorials on teen marriage, and star-penned instructions on how to nab a man. But as the fan magazines transitioned away from Hollywood stars and towards celebrity in the ‘60s and ‘70s, editors exchanged long narratives for the short, sensational, and dramatically headlined feature, and earnest advice columns took a backseat to gossip and scandal. Fuller’s Us most resembled the “late-stage” fan magazine, spurning the more blatant elements of the women’s magazine in favor of disclosures, fashion faux pas, and romantic difficulties on the part of the celebrity.

These “late stage” fan magazines had taken a cue from the success of Confidential in the 1950s, profiting off readers’ desire to know the worst about the figures the rest of the world liked the best. With the decline of the fan magazines in the ‘70s and ‘80s, the tabloids had taken up the cause, further stratifying the gossip industry: on one side, the tabloids, printed on newsprint, where gossip was nested beside fantastical claims of Elvis’ enduring life. On the other, People, where gossip had been sanitized into “personality journalism” pablum. Under Fuller, Us offered a middle ground: a glossy, high quality magazine that also delivered the dirt. In this way, Us “shoplifted the tabloid readers at the checkout line,” with a product “upmarket enough to make a career women feel comfortable opening up a copy before a manicure at Bergdorf Goodman’s.”^[li] The new Us was no fan magazine, nor was it a tabloid aimed at the working-class— it was low brow goods for otherwise high class readers, and it sales were through the roof.

The brilliance of Fuller’s formula became fully apparent in late July of 2002, when Us scooped other gossip outlets with Angelina Jolie’s exclusive confession of “Why I Left Billy Bob.” The issue, which sold over 800,000 copies, was a sign of things to come: over the second half of 2002, newsstand sales rose a staggering 55%, averaging 505,002 copies an issue, while People’s declined 3.2%.^[lii] By the end of the year, Wenner was able to raise Us Weekly’s ad rate base to 1,050,000; the magazine’s finances were at long last in the black.^[liii] Over ten short months, Fuller had established Us Weekly as formidable gossip force.

People Retrenches

People may have been old, but it refused to take Us’ incursion lying down. As described above, People had been quick to take action to counter Us’ relaunch in 2000, yet Us’ floundering circulation numbers soon made it clear that the magazine posed little threat. Disney’s investment in Us undoubtedly perked Time Warner’s ears, but proved more annoyance than legitimate menace. The rumors of Fuller’s move to Us, however, spurred Time Inc. into action. A week before the Wenner made Fuller’s appointment public, Time Inc. announced that People’s longtime editor Carol Wallace would be replaced by Martha Nelson, founding editor of InStyle.^[liv] Under Nelson, InStyle had popularized the notion that celebrities — not models — sold fashion, both on the cover and inside the magazine. InStyle co-mingled image-heavy spreads of celebrities “at home and at play” with features relating current trends in celebrity fashion, e.g. the bob, the mini-dress, the asymmetrical hemline. Time Inc. had no immediate plans for a redesign of People. But as Wallace equivocated: “You don’t hire an editor as stylist and smart as Martha and not give her a chance to address the look of the magazine…It could use a face lift.”^[lv] The press soon framed Fuller and Nelson as “rival geniuses” battling to prove their respective magazines as the future of the industry.^[lvi]

People c. 2001

When Nelson moved to People in 2002, she recognized that she had been brought in to rejuvenate and strengthen the magazine in the face of Us’ gradual incursion. The issue was how to revitalize People “without damaging the core concept,” e.g. a “journalistically rigorous magazine about how people cope.”^[lvii] Nelson thus set about “sharpening” the magazine’s look: she decluttered the cover, axing the “Weekly” from the magazine’s title.^[lviii] Borrowing a page from InStyle and Us, she expanded the number of full-page photo spreads in the front of the magazine.^[lix] But Nelson shied from any dramatic changes to the magazines, fearing they would alienate more readers than they would attract. The mix of celebrity coverage (53%) and “human interest” or personality stories (47%) would remain steady from 2001-2006.

People c. 2003

Time even funneled $5 million into a promotional campaign — People’s first in five years — tasked with reemphasizing the magazine’s focus on personality coverage. With a new tagline — “People: At the Heart of Every Story” — Time aimed to distinguish People from its competition, underscoring the magazine’s attention to “everyday people as well as the rich and the famous.”^[lx] Ads portrayed a broad sampling of “personalities,” from teenage golfer Michelle Wie to politician Richard A. Gephardt and his lesbian daughter. ^[lxi] The implicit message: People cared about people — people who had accomplished things, who had conquered adversity, who were newsworthy — and who happened to be celebrities. The competitions’ investment in “pure celebrity” was meant to appear trivial in comparison. But People was missing the point: Us wasn’t trying to play catch-up, or infringe on People’s territory. It was trying to make that very territory — and the older, less fashionable, less educated, less wealthy demographic to which it appealed — seem obsolete.

Yet Us was not, in fact, affecting People’s circulation. As Variety pointed out, Us stole “lots of buzz” from People, but not “actual readers.”^[lxii] Over the second half of 2002, sixteen consecutive issues of People averaged 1.5 million in newsstand sales — an astounding 60% sell-through rate — while overall circulation averaged 3.6 million. Adjusted for a dip following the 9/11 attacks, People’s circulation had remained steady throughout 2001-2002, despite Us’ dramatic upsurge during the same period.^[lxiii] The readership for celebrity magazines was either doubling up — purchasing Us in addition to People — or expanding. The trend would continue over the decade to come: the “battle of the newsstand” was not over a finite number of readers; rather, it functioned to incite overall demand for celebrity publications. While the rest of the publishing industry suffered, celebrity publications was thriving.

During this same period, Us and Disney were gradually reconfiguring their relationship. After the initial wave of synergies described above, many of Disney’s blueprints for the Us brand began to disintegrate. The planned syndicated radio show, Us-branded awards ceremony, and joint web content had all “either been scrapped or put on ice” due to cost concerns or the stagnant web market.^[lxiv] While Fuller had made a handful of appearances on The View, Us’ relationship with ABC’s Good Morning America was strained: executives resented having to collaborate with Us, and rejected many of the segment ideas proffered by Us staffers. Frustrated over the decrease in Us-branded segments, Wenner exacerbated tensions by going around GMA executive producer Shelly Ross and appealing directly to Disney officials; GMA even replaced the Us on-air interviewer with one of its own staff members.^[lxv] Whether because of Wenner’s personalities or the specifics of the market, the envisioned matrix of synergies had not come to pass.

But Us continued to explicitly and implicitly promote Disney products in the magazine: a best-selling issue from August 12, 2002 showcased J.Lo & Ben’s “Hot New Love” and “what’s really going on with their sudden, sexy, and serious” romance on the cover — subjects with nothing to do with Disney or its products. Inside, however, was a Disney promotional bonanza: Julia Roberts, on the press circuit to promote Full Frontal (produced by Miramax, then owned by Disney), was featured in five segments, including a two-page spread on her appearance at the Full Frontal premiere, a recitation of “Julia’s Full Frontal Secrets,” and “Julia’s Little List” on the details of her wedding invitations. The issue also included two pages on Signs (produced by Touchstone Films) and another two pages on the premiere of Spy Kids 2 (produced by Disney subsidiary Dimension Films), plus prominent reviews of Full Frontal, Signs, and the new ABC Family reality series The Last Resort.

The issue also devoted space to non-Disney products, including four pages in the beginning of the magazine tracking “The Week of Austin Powers,” a film franchise owned by Time Warner.^[lxvi] But Us also directed negative buzz towards non-Disney products: Harrison Ford was apparently showing off his “inner grump” while promoting Paramount’s K-19: The Widowmaker; Cameron Diaz and Drew Barrymore had ditched training for Columbia Studio’s Charlie’s Angels 2 in order to go shopping, annoying crew and co-stars. The synergies between Disney and Us might not have been working exactly as planned, and Fuller’s tone might have been slightly more crass than Disney had hoped. But that did not mean that Us was not fulfilling its fundamental purpose of providing free promotion for a bevy of Disney products.

“The Brilliance of the Formula”

In February 2003, Fuller’s contract was about to expire. Despite widespread rumors that Fuller had turned the magazine’s workplace into an “editorial gulag,” Wenner signed her to a new three-year deal, with an “unprecedented” base salary of over $1 million a year.^[lxvii] While the notoriously hands-on Wenner had steered clear of Fuller during her first year at Us, insiders reported that he had begun to meddle in the publishing process in Spring of 2003.^[lxviii] The resultant friction at least partially contributed to Fuller’s decision to tender her resignation on June 26, 2003. Fuller may well have been fed up with Wenner, but she was also lured by the promise of an even more lucrative deal to add “glitz and mainstream acceptance” to American Media’s stable of tabloid publications, including Star and The National Enquirer. ^[lxix]

The resignation sent waves through the publishing industry, but Wenner seemed unfazed. Days after Fuller’s resignation, he appointed Janice Min as editor. In addition to stints at People and InStyle, Min had served as Fuller’s “No. 2,” and wasted no time in putting fears concerning the loss of her former boss to rest. The first two issues under her control — one detailing the new love between Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore, the other suggesting Billy Bob Thorton’s renewed efforts to win back Jolie — proved “she has the Midas touch for cover selection,” selling 541,000 and 600,000 newsstand copies, respectively.^[lxx]

Us Weekly's Janice Min

A mere two months into Min’s tenure, newsstand sales were up 25% from the same period the year before. While Min adopted many of the hallmarks of Fuller’s editorial philosophy, her attitude towards celebrities was markedly warmer. Whereas Fuller had been known for her “take-no-publicists” attitude towards celebrity spin, Min “seems to have more empathy for beleaguered celebs,” devoting space to such celeb-friendly pieces as “My Favorite Room,” in which a celebrity offered a visual tour through his/her personal space.^[lxxi] Or, as Wenner explained, “Bonnie really disliked the people we covered….With Janice, that just doesn’t exist.”^[lxxii] The warmer tone seemed to be resonating: by the end of 2003, total circulation had risen18.9% to 1.3 million.^[lxxiii]

Over the next two years, Min further fine-tuned Fuller’s formula, incorporating several innovations of her own. Most visibly, Min devoted significant coverage to reality stars, with specific attention to The Bachelor and The Bachelorette. A string of covers detailed the forthcoming wedding of “Ryan and Trista,” the belabored relationship between “Andrew and Jen,” and the philandering of Bachelor Bob, including a cover devoted to asking “Whose Heart Will He Break?”^[lxxiv] Reality programming provided an endless stream of personalities, all of whom were eager to exploit their new-found fame via the gossip industry. A reality star could eventually use their new-found power to leverage demands, the vast majority were desperate for exposure.

The reality star perfectly embodied the Us approach to celebrity: these stars really were just like us; they had no skill other than “playing themselves” on television. The Bachelor/Bachelorette franchise was a perfect fit for Us: unlike Survivor, whose personalities were compelling but not necessarily beautiful or young, the Bachelor was replete with attractive men and women who mirrored the very demographic to which Us was attempting to appeal. Instead of competing in games or for survival, these contestants were playing the game of romance, complete with betrayals, double-crosses, and proposals on-bended-knee, all inflected with a heavy suggestion of sex. Most importantly, The Bachelor and Bachelorette were produced by Time Warner’s Telepictures, but aired on Disney-owned ABC; Us coverage not only boosted magazine sales, but framed the program as must-see television. ^[lxxv]

Whether covering movie stars or pop idols, Bachelorettes or Britney, Min recognized that her target demographic “thinks of celebrities as peers — like neighbors, or people you went to high school with.”^[lxxvi] And as much as readers wanted to gossip about their peers, they did not necessarily want to see them degraded. “We don’t do mean stories,” Min explained. “We don’t make fun of people’s weight of people’s zits.”^[lxxvii] As Mediaweek elaborated, if celebrities “are subjects of news at People, objects of awe at In Touch and objects of envy and scorn at Star, at Us they are friends. You love them, but you talk about them behind their backs — and you know they can take a little good-naturing ribbing.”^[lxxviii]

As an example of this type of treatment, Min pointed to recently printed tidbit concerning Gwyneth Paltrow, who had admitted wearing a girdle after giving birth in order to avoid looking plump in photos.^[lxxix] Us did not accuse Paltrow of deceiving readers, nor did it make fun of Paltrow for needing something as un-glamorous as a girdle. Rather, it used the comment as a means of highlighting the various machinations employed by “normal people” in their transformation into celebrities. Us elevated and reveled in celebrity culture even as it pleasured in deconstructing the elements that composed it, and an attitude it encouraged its readers to share. People may have still outsold Us, but with this unique mix of veneration and demythologization, Us had become a veritable “cultural reference point,” generating the sort of buzz that could compensate for shortcomings in circulation numbers.^[lxxx]

Us’ buzz — and attractiveness to a young, wealthy, “cool” demographic — also helped Min solve Us’ advertising problems. In 2002, Fuller had increased Us’ ad pages by 33%, but most upscale advertisers were still hesitant to associate their names with the magazine. As one analyst explained, “the same formula of semi-salacious coverage that drives newsstands tends to drive advertisers away,” and with advertising budgets tightened following the deflation of the dot.com bubble, “many beauty and fashion advertisers steer clear of anything they see as tacky.”^[lxxxi] In 2002, Us’ biggest advertisers were Disney and an amalgamation of “classifieds,” e.g. ads for breast enhancement, weight loss, and mail-order skin treatments generally associated with tabloids.^[lxxxii] Of course, the quickest route to attract high class advertisers was to attract high class readers. Under Min, Us editorial staff’s mantra — “young, better educated, richer” — helped build a magazine that not only attracted attention and buzz, but the ideal advertising demographic.^[lxxxiii] By 2004, the median income of the Us female reader hovered at $83,000, outpacing both Vanity Fair and InStyle.^[lxxxiv] High-end advertisers, including Mercedes Benz, Coach, and Christian Dior, followed, helping to raise ad pages 27.6%, with an estimated $50 million in profits for 2005.^[lxxxv] Even if Us wasn’t siphoning readers from People, it was stealing advertisers: for the same period in 2004, People’s ad pages were down 2.2%.^[lxxxvi]

Industry praise for Us poured in: it won Advertising Age’s award for Magazine of the Year in 2004, Min was named Adweek’s Editor of the Year the following year, and analysts hailed Eisner’s decision to invest in the magazine as “prescient.”^[lxxxvii] Over the first two months of 2005, three issues of Us had already sold over a million copies on the newsstand. Us still trailed People in ad revenue and overall circulation, but Min’s magazine had “broken further away from the pack,” setting the standard that other publications, whether People, the new Star under Bonnie Fuller, or celebrity upstarts In Touch and Life & Style would be forced to emulate. As the next section will show, the resultant competition raised the stakes of celebrity coverage, with People, Us, and the rest of the competition fomenting an apparent celebrity frenzy.

Celebrity Frenzy and The Paparazzi Boom

By 2005, the market for unsanctioned celebrity photos had reached a fever pitch. Instead of stabilizing the market, the sheer number of photographers made it even more competitive, as paparazzos vied with one another for the first or best image. In order to snap a celebrity doing something, anything different than the sea of other photographs on the market, paparazzos would verbally and physically goad celebrities, hoping one would lash out, offer a soundbite, make a face for the camera, or otherwise lose his/her composure.^[lxxxviii] This aggressive, audacious breed of paparazzi were dubbed “stalkerazzi,” invoking the obsessive drive to invade a celebrity’s privacy.^[lxxxix]

Stories of the stalkerazzi and their tactics abounded: in April 2005, Reese Witherspoon called 911 after a group of paparazzi swarmed her in the parking lot of her gym, followed her home, and attempted to force her off the road. The next month, a phalanx of paparazzi chased Lindsay Lohan; one rammed her car and was detained by police. In August, Scarlett Johansson accidentally crashed into a family’s car as she attempted to evade a pack of paparazzos in voracious pursuit. That same month, a group of paparazzi staking out Britney Spears’ baby shower were subject to a hail of BB gun bullets from an unknown location in the surrounding hills.

Tensions between celebrities and the unsolicited, unsanctioned arm of the publicity apparatus had never been higher: as paparazzos resorted to hiding in garbage cans, renting helicopters, and catcalling parents as they walked their kids to school, the celebrities were striking back: Heath Ledger was throwing eggs, but Witherspoon and other stars were pressing charges.^[xc] The string of actions by the newly aggressive paparazzi resulted in a criminal inquiry on the part of the Los Angeles police department, culminating in a “Stalkerazzi Law,” that promised to levy stiff fines against those who invaded celebrities’ private spaces.^[xci]

Three high profile “narratives” compounded the sense of celebrity hysteria. First, Britney Spears, a long-time subject of intense paparazzi surveillance, was pregnant with her first child with Kevin Federline; picture of her pregnant body (and food and clothing choices) were at a premium. Second, Tom Cruise had engaged in a very public courting of Katie Holmes, manufacturing myriad photo opportunities.

Endless PDA.

While many viewed the relationship as an example of pure manufactured publicity, paparazzi were nevertheless hungry to document potential revelations, especially any image that would prove the relationship a sham. Finally, Brad Pitt filed for divorce from his Jennifer Aniston in December 2004, and speculation ran wild that Pitt and Angelina Jolie had begun a romance while filming their forthcoming action film Mr. and Mrs. Smith. The pair’s secrecy, coupled with a refusal to discuss their love lives in interviews, rendered any pictorial evidence of a romance tremendously lucrative. The scrutiny applied to each narrative — and the desire to be the first to break news of the latest “chapter” — only contributed to the demand.

This was more than just a perceived boom in paparazzi culture. The number of paparazzo had grown from a “handful” in 1995 to eighty in 2004 and 150 in 2005.^[xcii] Dozens of paparazzi agencies set up shop in Los Angeles, vying for access and images of around 50 “A-List” or in-demand celebrities.^[xciii] Frank Griffin, partner in one established paparazzi agency, compared the environment in 2005 to that of a gold rush: “It starts off with quite a few honest, hard-working prospectors who strike it rich now and again. And then you get the hangers-on, the camp followers, the hookers, all the rest of the garbage that comes along because they think the streets are lined with gold.”^[xciv]

The new wave of “untrained and corner-cutting” paparazzi generally had little to no professional training, hailed from overseas, and worked slavish hours; when it came hunting celebrities, “street smarts” and connections far outweighed skill with a camera.^[xcv] Liberal use of bribes yielded agencies access to license plate numbers, full passenger manifests for coast-to-coast flights, and tip-offs when a celebrity booked with a particular limousine company. Groups of photographers formed tight-knit cabals that could launch complicated “offensives” against a celebrity on wheels, on foot, and in the air.^[xcvi] And non-photographers, such as the lucky individual on the scene when Spears married Jason Alexander in a Las Vegas chapel, simply added to the already fierce competition.^[xcvii] Suddenly, anyone with a cell phone camera was a potential paparazzo.

For critics, the widespread availability and resultant “obsession” with photographs documenting the quotidian elements of celebrity life bordered on pathological. As De Bord had bemoaned the society of spectacle and Boorstin had decried the pseudo-event, academics, analysts, and other pop culture pundits claimed that celebrity culture had taken the media hostage, and Brangelina and Britney now occupied more editorial space than foreign affairs. The rise of gossip blogs in 2005 only accelerated the spread of this celebrity plague, encouraging readers to return multiple times a day for the most minute of updates in a celebrity’s life. With cries familiar to anyone who has read the previous chapters, the voices made sweeping claims concerning the erosion of journalistic ethics and the demise of good taste.

I would like to argue, however, that the perceived glut of celebrity images and information — the rise of so-called “celebrified culture” — can be specifically traced to Us Weekly. More specifically, Us’ innovations, its competition with People, and its ties to Disney. Bearing in mind that no single product is ever uniquely responsible for a cultural phenomenon, I nevertheless contend that Us incited the drive for images of quotidian celebrity activity; the frenzied paparazzi culture of the mid-2000s was simply that demand extended to its logical conclusion. To substantiate this claim, however, we must step back from the particulars of the 2000s and briefly revisit the larger shifts in the way that images of stars and celebrities have been procured, valued, and mediated.

As previous chapters have shown, the studios, the magazines, and other “official” star discourse had long labored to construct stars as objects of veneration. Under this paradigm, the more fans admired, worshipped, or respected a star, the more likely they would be to frequent movies in which the star appeared, buy products the star endorsed, or read magazines featuring the star. But in order to sustain such an image, the classic star system had to limit the number of “voices,” or sources, allowed to “speak” it.^[xcviii] Put differently, all discourse about the star had to be harmonized; to sustain that harmony, the studios leveraged control over the star, the fan magazines, and the popular press. With the decline of the studio and star systems, Confidential and other scandal magazines added discourse that was discordant with the otherwise harmonious star image. The dispersal of Hollywood — both in terms of mode of production and the place of the star within it — made it increasingly difficult to control who “spoke” the meaning of a star, and to what end.

In the ‘70s and ‘80s, the rise of CAA, the super agent, and super publicist reinstated crucial element of the star system. As Paul McDonald explains, stars acquired teams of individuals — an agent, a publicist, a manager, a stylist, a personal trainer, a chef, a vocal coach — to perform the image management services once provided by the studio.^[xcix] Tom Cruise exemplified the new generation of stars: with an iron-fisted publicist and the most powerful agent in Hollywood, he was able to exact control over the tone and type of discourse in circulation, and, in effect, his entire star image. People, Entertainment Tonight, EW, previous iterations of Us, and the rest of the gossip industry were eager to add their voices to the chorus reinforcing the images proffered by Cruise and other similarly-controlling stars.

But such stars were able to maintain such high levels of control for two reasons: first, the level of surveillance was relatively low. A careful star could generally avoid being caught doing anything that contradicted his/her image. If he/she was caught, damage control was possible: in exchange for money or future appearances, a story could be killed. It might not have been as tight a system as that exercised by “The Fixers” of studio system lore, but it worked. Second, the proliferation of gossip outlets created a competitive market in which stars could pick and choose who carried their stories. If an outlet refused to toe the publicist line, the star would simply take his/her story somewhere else.

In the early 2000s, the spread of New Media fundamentally altered the terms of the relationship between the star and the gossip industry, as digital technology made it possible to surveil stars on a round-the-clock basis. It was increasingly difficult for stars to avoid getting caught on camera when they appeared disheveled in public, went home drunk from a bar, or scolded their children at the park. And as the number of paparazzos increased exponentially, so too did the number of voices attempting to speak the meaning of the star. As the next chapter will show, these number of voices would only continued to grow with the spread of gossip blogs, making it impossible for all but the most savvy of stars to control their images.

The tabloids had long sustained a market for paparazzi images. Yet “Stars: They’re Just Like Us” and similarly-themed Us features “created a lucrative new market for Hollywood paparazzi,” trading on the notion that even the most seemingly unified of celebrity images had its cracks.^[c] An Atlantic Monthly feature made the tie between Us and paparazzi culture even more explicit, explaining that “The evolution of Hollywood paparazzi from a marginal nuisance to one of the most powerful and lucrative forces driving the American news-gathering industry is a phenomenon that dates back to March 2002,” when Fuller first took the reins of Us Weekly.^[ci]

If Fuller’s editorial philosophy and “Just like Us” sparked the market, the ensuing competition with People fanned the flame. When Us began to encroach on People’s circulation and advertising territory, the two began to engage in massive bidding wars over exclusive rights to various photos. With Time Inc. behind it, People was able throw massive amounts of money at all types of photos, even ones it did plan to use. People spent $75,000 for a photo of Jennifer Lopez reading Us Weekly, simply to prevent Us from publishing the photo.^[cii] People was driving up prices, hoping to shut other magazines with smaller operating budgets from scooping them on any story, no matter how small.

For Min, People’s purchase of the J.Lo photo was a “watershed” moment, and marked the true escalation of the bidding wars.^[ciii] People would always have more buying power, but Us relied on its wiles, as evidenced by the magazine’s scoop on the Brad Pitt-Angelina Jolie romance in early May of 2005. When a British agency announced that a photographer had obtained images of Pitt and Jolie on a Kenyan beach, a “dogfight” between Us and People ensued. People believed it had secured the rights as $320,000, but Us countered with an offer of $500,000 — but only if the agency would sign a contract immediately, without going back to People. According to Variety, People tried to retaliate with a $1 million offer, but the deal was done.

One-of-a-kind, news-breaking images like those of Pitt and Jolie could net upwards of a million dollars, as evidenced by People’s purchase of the first pictures of Shiloh Jolie-Pitt for a reported $4.1 million in 2006.^[civ] But such photos had always commanded relatively high prices: as a group of veteran paparazzos explained, before 2002, “news value” images, e.g. shots of “a hot celeb’s new affair, failed plastic surgery, or sudden weight gain” drove the market.^[cv] But the success of “Just like Us” and its knockoffs had changed the calculus of celebrity photography: an otherwise unremarkable photo of a star playing with his/her child could net much more than the same star looking glamorous at a premiere.^[cvi] The market for such photos exploded: by 2005, Us was receiving 45,000 to 50,000 images every week, 75% of which were paparazzi shots.^[cvii] In this way, Us’ pictorial and rhetorical insistence that stars could be both glamorous and “just like us,” set the paparazzi market in motion.

Conclusion

In truth, the “celebrity death match” invoked in the title of this chapter was not actually between Us Weekly and People, the glossies and the tabloids, or ET and Access Hollywood. Rather, the battle was waged internally, as each outlet struggled to merge two conceptions of celebrities, two different aesthetic means of illuminating the “true” celebrity self. While discourse has long presented stars as ordinary and extraordinary, the gossip industry of the 21st century was struggling with two very different modes of mediating the celebrity for popular consumption. The major players intermingled both conceptions, alternating sanctioned red carpet appearances with unsanctioned paparazzi photography, highly-monitored interviews with gossip and speculation.

Again, these developments were not without historical precedent: a similar mania for unsanctioned photos had occurred in the late ‘50s and through the ‘60s, when illicit photos of Elizabeth Taylor and Eddie Fisher (later Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton) sparked an industry-wide demand; when Jackie Kennedy went into relative seclusion following the assassination of her husband, photos of her were at a similar premium.^[cviii]

Nor was it the first time that magazines had attempted to intermingle different modes of celebrity coverage — the “late stage” fan magazines also mixed veneration and accusation, with end products that bordered on schizophrenic in their varying attitudes towards the stars.

What changed, then, and what led to the perception of celebrity ubiquity, was the sheer number of outlets that would pay for these photos, put them on the air, or publish them. The pathology of celebrity culture, once limited to a small handful of magazines, had seemingly now infected the entire mediascape. As previous chapters have demonstrated, the success of People and Entertainment Tonight were responsible for the proliferation of outlets, both in the 1980s and 1990s. And while the success of both outlets demonstrated the necessity of conglomerate backing in launching such a product, neither took full advantage of conglomerate promotional ties. Apart from a few veiled promotions, these outlets were contained, whether to the pages of the magazine or the limits of television slot. In contrast, Disney successfully exploited its major gossip holdings — both E! and Us — in a manner that put the other conglomerates to shame.

Whether through a desire to emulate Disney or, in the case of Time Warner, prove the potential of promised synergies, gossip and entertainment news gradually infiltrated all corners of a conglomerate’s holdings: by the early 2000s, it was in cable programming, news programming, and morning shows; it was on CNN, ESPN, ABC Family; it was available at every news stand, on every computer, in held a new place of prominence in newspapers and magazines, from Time to Architectural Digest.^[cix]

Thus rooted, as the market for paparazzi photographs inflated, so too did the perception that celebrity culture had taken over the whole of the media. Overall interest in celebrities and stars may have, in fact, remained steady; what changed was the amount of information available to those who were interested, and the fact that it co-mingled with the “serious news,” sports programming, women’s talk shows, and foreign policy.

The frenzy was arguably at its apex in 2005, but it reached its natural, tragic conclusion in 2007, when Britney Spears underwent a very public breakdown in full view of the paparazzi, and, by extension, the world. She shaved her head — reportedly due to paranoia that the paparazzi were using her hair extensions to track her movements— and later that night, as she attempted to gain access to the house where her two young sons were begin kept from her, she wielded a large umbrella against the paparazzos who persisted in their pursuit.

The photo highlighted the extent of Spears’ break: a still-young girl, once the very embodiment of American innocence, driven to a state of grotesque delusion. The overwhelming sentiment: we — the magazines, the paparazzi, the readers — had created a monster. Spears has since undergone treatment and proceeded into recovery, and the market for “stalkerazzi” style photographs has diminished, in part because celebrities have simply learned to play the game. Some hire “paparazzi abatement” teams; others forge agreements with paparazzos that allow them to take a choice set of photos at the beginning of the night in exchange for being left alone for the remainder of the evening.^[cx]

Yet the realities of the market remain: as one agency head explained, “any picture of any celebrity has a value.”^[cxi] It was that understanding that led to the rapid increase in paparazzi, especially those willing to engage in “stalkerazzi” tactics; it was that understanding that increased the sheer number of photos available, in print, online, on the air, for reader consumption. And it was that understanding that precipitated a sea change in the way that the imagery of celebrity was valued, mediated, and consumed, leading to a widely-held perception that all media had been “celebrified.” Many additional forces contributed to this perception, including the rise of reality television and digital technologies. But as this chapter as thoroughly demonstrated, it was a sea change originated and accelerated by Us Weekly.

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^[i]Pamela Davis, “People has seen the enemy and it is Us,” St. Petersburg Times, Mar 24 2000, 1D.

^[ii] “60sec. With,” MediaWeek, Oct 28 2002, 40.

^[iii] Dianne Clehane, “Bonnie Fuller — Just Like US,” Daily Variety, May 6 2003, 30; Lisa Lockwood, “Fuller’s Philosophy on the Fame Game,” WWD, Jun 7 2002, 18.

^[iv] Lockwood 18.

^[v] Clehane 30.

^[vi] Peter Carlson, “People vs. Us: Celebrity Deathmatch,” Washington Post, Aug 28 2001, C01.

^[vii] “The A List,” Advertising Age, Oct 25 2004, S2.

^[viii] Jonathan Bing, Abigail Pogrebin “US mag bows its weekly edition,” Daily Variety, Mar 17 2000, 5.

^[ix] ibid; “US and Them: Diary of a Launch,” Brill’s Content, May 2000, 107.

^[x] ibid.

^[xi] Pogrebin 106.

^[xii] Pogrebin 107.

^[xiii] Diane Clehane, Women making Headlines,” Daily Variety, Nov 12 2003, 46.

^[xiv] “March Madness,” MediaWeek, Dec 13 1999, 75.

^[xv] David Carr, “Gossip Goes Glossy And Loses Its Stigma,” New York Times, Aug 4 2003, E1.

^[xvi] Pogrebin 107.

^[xvii] ibid.

^[xviii] ibid.

^[xix] Keith Dunnavant, “Tumbling Dice,” MediaWeek, May 1 2000, 60.

^[xx] ibid; Pogrebin 107.

^[xxi] Dunnavant 60.

^[xxii] Lisa Granastein, “Stealing the Spotlight,” MediaWeek, Mar 13 2000, 5.

^[xxiii] ibid.

^[xxiv] Ceila McGee, “Ad Numbers Get Cut at Us Weekly,” Daily News (New York), Jul 1 2000, no page number.

^[xxv] Jeff Leeds, “Disney Returns to Publishing With Stake in US,” Los Angeles Times, Feb 28 2001, C1; Jon Fine, “Magazine of the Year: Us Weekly,” Advertising Age, Oct 25 2004, S1.

^[xxvi]Us would theretofore be published by a new, jointly owned company separate from Wenner’s other magazine holdings. See Jon Fine, “Us rate base grows,” Advertising Age, Oct 22 2001, 8.

^[xxvii] Lisa Granastein, “A New Cast Member,” MediaWeek, Mar 5 2001, 24.

^[xxviii] Alex Kuczynski, “Disney to Take 50% Stake in US Weekly Magazine,” New York Times, Feb 28 2001, C1.

^[xxix] Granastein, “A New Cast Member,” 24.

^[xxx] ibid.

^[xxxi] ibid.

^[xxxii] Paul D. Colford, “Us Weekly is Taking Celeb Coverage to Disney’s Land,” Daily New (New York), Feb 28 2001, no page number.

^[xxxiii] Lily Oei, “Wenner, ABC NewsOne team up for ‘US Report,’” Daily Variety, Nov 7 2001, 10.

^[xxxiv] Lisa Granastein, “Growing Up,” MediaWeek, Sep 3 2001, 37.

^[xxxv] Richard Dyer, Heavenly Bodies (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1986), 19.

^[xxxvi] Peg Tyre, “A New Guilty Pleasure,” Newsweek, Aug 12 2002, 42.

^[xxxvii] David Carr and Lorne Manly, “Editor Coming to Us Weekly May Turn Up the Sex and Glitter,” New York Times, Feb 27 2002, C1.

^[xxxviii] Lisa Granastein, “Cover Girl,” MediaWeek, Mar 4 2002, 35.

^[xxxix] ibid; David Carr, “Us Weekly’s Sly Ways Win Readers, if Not Yet Ads,” New York Times, Jun 17 2002, C1.

^[xl] ibid.

^[xli] Judith Newman, “Cover girl,” MediaWeek, Mar 14 2005, SR8.

^[xlii] Even the handful of pages still devoted to film and television reviews were structured around photos, large headlines, and graphics.

^[xliii] Sharon Waxmon, “Hard Coy Hardball,” Washington Post, Nov 6, 1996, F14.

^[xliv] “Us Investigates: The Celebrity Tan Line,” Us Weekly, Aug 12 2002, 42-43.

^[xlv] “Stars - They’re Just Like Us,” Us Weekly, Aug 12 2002, 20.

^[xlvi] “Jennifer’s On and Off Days,” Us Weekly, Aug 12 2002, 14-15.

^[xlvii] Carr, “Us Weekly’s Sly Ways Win Readers, if Not Yet Ads,” C1.

^[xlviii] Richard Dyer, Stars (London: BFI, 1998), 43.

^[xlix] Lockwood 18.

^[l] ibid; Carr and Manly C1.

^[li] Michael Learmonth, “Print Biz: New Star Pluckers,” Variety, Aug 30, 2004, 1.

^[lii] Clehane 30; Lisa Granastein, “Don’t Give Up on Us,” MediaWeek, Feb 3 2003, 3.

^[liii] Paul D. Colford, “Bonnie’s on a Roll as Us Magazine Rocks,” Daily News (New York), Oct 28, 2002, no page number; Carr, “Us Weekly’s Sly Ways Win Readers, if Not Yet Ads,” C1.

^[liv] David Carr, “A New Tone, And Leader, at Time Inc.,” New York Times, Feb 21, 2002, C1.

^[lv] ibid.

^[lvi] Carr and Manly C1.

^[lvii] Jill Goldsmith, “People who need People,” Variety, Jul 10 2006, 1, 41; Carr, “A New Tone, And Leader, at Time Inc.,” C1.

^[lviii] Goldsmith 1.

^[lix] Ann Oldeburg, “Weekly Magazines Face Off,” USA Today, Jul 11 2002, 1D.

^[lx] Stuart Elliott, “Advertising,” New York Times, Sep 9 2003, C8.

^[lxi] ibid.

^[lxii] Clehane 46.

^[lxiii] Granastein, “Don’t Give Up on Us,” 3.

^[lxiv] Matthew Rose and Bruce Orwall, “The relationship is bigger than Us,” The Globe and Mail, Nov 20 2002, R5.

^[lxv] ibid.

^[lxvi] “The Week of Austin Powers,” Us Weekly, Aug 22 2002, 6-7; 10-11. Austin Powers: Goldfinger was produced by New Line, then a subsidiary of Time Warner.

^[lxvii] Craig Offman, “In a People-friendly niche, Us Still looking for support,” Variety, Feb 18 2002, 9; Nicole LaPorte, “Tabloid lures Us editor,” Daily Variety, Jun 27 2003, 4.

^[lxviii] ibid.

^[lxix] ibid.

^[lxx] Nicole LaPorte, “Fuller deputy Min in at US Weekly,” Daily Variety, Jul 3 2003, 15.

^[lxxi] Nicole LaPorte, “More celeb-friendly Us notches up sales gains,” Variety, Sep 1 2003, 7.

^[lxxii] Newman SR8.

^[lxxiii] (Celebrity Weekly Shocker: Editor Is No Diva!, The New York Times, February 25, 2004 Wednesday, Section B2; LYNDA RICHARDSON)

^[lxxiv] Us Weekly issue dated November 24, 2003.

^[lxxv] Interestingly, People did not devote a single cover to The Bachelor or Bachelorette between 2003-2005. I have been unable to verify whether producers negotiated an exclusive deal with Us or People simply deemed them unworthy of coverage. People did devote coverage to reality phenomenon The Apprentice in 200*.

^[lxxvi] Newman SR8.

^[lxxvii] Lisa Granastein, “60sec. With,” MediaWeek, Nov 15 2004, 24.

^[lxxviii] Newman SR8.

^[lxxix] Fine S1.

^[lxxx] ibid.

^[lxxxi] Carr, “Us Weekly’s Sly Ways Win Readers, if Not Yet Ads,” C1; Clehane 30.

^[lxxxii] Colford, no page number.

^[lxxxiii] Newman SR8.

^[lxxxiv] ibid; Learmonth 1.

^[lxxxv] Fine S1.

^[lxxxvi] Newman SR8.

^[lxxxvii] Fine S1; Newman SR8.

^[lxxxviii] Richard Winton and Tonya Alanez, “Paparazzi Falsh New Audacity,” Los Angeles Times, Oct 16 2005, A1.

^[lxxxix] Glenn Garvin, “‘Stalkerazzi’ ploys worsen,” Miami Herald, Jul 17 2005, A3.

^[xc] George Rush and Joanna Molloy, “Scarlett’s Crash Course on Paparazzi,” Daily News (New York) Aug 24 2005, 22; Winton and Alanez A1.

^[xci] The statute forbids two types of invasion of private space: one literal, one virtual. It makes it an offence to take pictures or sound recordings of anyone “engaging in a personal or familial activity and the physical invasion occurs in a manner that is offensive to a reasonable person,” and it also forbids doing so to a person “engaging in a personal or familial activity under circumstances in which the plaintiff had a reasonable expectation of privacy, through the use of a visual or auditory enhancing device, regardless of whether there is a physical trespass.” See Russell Smith, “California puts lens rangers on notice,” The Globe and Mail, Jan 5 2006, R1.

^[xcii] Gina Piccalo, “Caught in their sights,” Los Angeles Times, Jun 4 2005, E1.

^[xciii] ibid.

^[xciv] David M. Halbfinger and Allison Hopeweiner, “Eye vs. Eye: Inside the Photo Wars,” New York Times, Jul 17 2005, B1.

^[xcv] Winton and Alanez A1.

^[xcvi] It was no coincidence that one well-known agency was headed by a former member of a Los Angeles street gang, who filed his ranks with street savvy (and reportedly reformed) former gang members. See Winton and Alanez A1.

^[xcvii] Piccalo E1.

^[xcviii] See Richard DeCordova, Picture Personalities:The Emergence of the Star System in America (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1990), 117-147.

^[xcix] Paul McDonald, “The Star System: The Production of Hollywood Stardom in the Post-Studio Era,” in The Contemporary Hollywood Film Industry, Paul McDonald and Janet Wasko, eds. (Malden, MA;Oxford: Blackwell, 2008), 167-181.

^[c] David Samuels, “Shooting Britney,” The Atlantic, April 2008, http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2008/04/shooting-britney/6735/

^[ci] ibid.

^[cii] Goldsmith 1, 41.

^[ciii] ibid.

^[civ] ibid.

^[cv] Jason Felch, “Sheriff to Probe Pellet Attack,” Los Angeles Times, Aug 8 2005, B3.

^[cvi] Richard Winton, “Chase by Paparazzi Yields No Charges,” Los Angeles Times, Aug 10 2005, B1.

^[cvii] Piccalo E1; While celebrities naturally disliked the realities of this new economy, many learned to play along. To announce a romance, a couple no longer had to appear together at a public event. Instead, they could simply walk down the street holding hands, and, knowing they would be “caught” by the paparazzi, generate the same amount of publicity as an exclusive interview, yet with a fraction of the time and effort. Others exploited the certainty that they would be photographed to their own promotional ends: after her public break-up with Billy Bob Thornton, Angelina Jolie appeared in a public park playing with her son; Jolie and Pitt’s publicists were widely believed to have tipped off a photographer of their beach whereabouts so that the first photos that broke of couple would be in a harmonious, family-oriented unit. The most savvy understood the principles of supply and demand that guided the paparazzi market: Gywneth Paltrow, for example, took a “very public stroll” with her first-born child, effectively exposing herself and the child to as many photographers as possible. An increase in photos meant a decrease in demand, which freed Paltrow and her family from constant pursuit. See Mireya Navarro, “I Love You With All My Hype,” New York Times, May 22 2005, Section 9, Page 1.

^[cviii] See Smash His Camera (Gast 2010).

^[cix] By 2005, ET, Access Hollywood, Extra, and ET spin-off The Insider competed for prime access viewers, E!, The Style Channel, MTV, VH1, Bravo, programmed their schedule with ever more reality star and celebrity-focused programming, while InTouch, Life & Style, and OK! joined People and Us Weekly at the newsstand.

^[cx] Felch B3.

^[cxi] ibid.