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<text id=90TT0588>
<title>
Mar. 05, 1990: Liz Smith:The Reigning Duchess Of Dish
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1990
Mar. 05, 1990 Gossip
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
PRESS, Page 50
LIZ SMITH
</hdr>
<body>
<p>The Reigning Duchess of Dish
</p>
<p> According to Oscar Wilde, who had plenty of reason to think
so, all history is gossip. By that definition, Liz Smith is one
of America's premier historians. From Palm Beach, Fla., to
Santa Barbara, Calif., via her syndicated column and New York
City television show, she catalogs the follies and the triumphs
of the famous, able in the wink of a cliche to make careers and
unwrap reputations. Some folks can't wait to lap up her latest
morsels; others think she ought to have her typewriter
confiscated. "She has the power to get people to pay
attention," says 60 Minutes' Mike Wallace, who is both friend
and frequent subject. "If Liz talks good or ill, people's
interest is piqued."
</p>
<p> "Riveted" might be a better term. Smith, 67, unleashed a
media tornado, still howling across the headlines, when she
broke the Trump divorce story two weeks ago. Her revelation was
trumpeted in the column she has written for the New York Daily
News for 14 years, which appears in more than 60 other U.S.
papers. She quickly took sides, advising Ivana to "stop sobbing
over Donald Juan." Such partisanship might be harshly judged
in a report about German unification. But Smith--and the rest
of the scoop troop--is to objective reporting what Hulk Hogan
is to Olympic wrestling. Almost anything goes.
</p>
<p> Part tough New Yorker, part sunny Texan, Mary Elizabeth
Smith is the daughter of a Fort Worth cotton broker. She is
up-front about the face-lifting ("Only one, really") and the
hair ("Ever notice how women on TV get blonder as they get
older?"). A University of Texas graduate who married and
divorced twice, she admits to being a "glitter kid" from way
back. "Walter Winchell was my idol," she says. "I wanted to go
to the Stork Club." Arriving in New York City in 1949, she
learned her trade at Modern Screen, Newsweek and SPORTS
ILLUSTRATED and by working in radio and TV. When she was offered
a column in the Daily News in 1976, Smith says, "I didn't want
to do it. I thought a gossip column was passe." But she
couldn't resist the money--or the forum.
</p>
<p> The column, which consists of sweet-'n'-sour snacks served
up drive-through quick, hit a public nerve that still tingles.
The Trump divorce, she says, is typical of why people love
gossip. "It is a faux scandal. You don't have to grapple with
it morally. It's the kind of story that takes the public's mind
off its own problems."
</p>
<p> Digging for the dirt is a round-the-clock job. "I'm
desperately overstimulated, overentertained and overpaid," says
Smith. With two assistants in her Manhattan apartment, Smith
spends the day on the phone, sifting through stacks of mail,
and keeping the party dates straight. Soon the columnist may
become Liz Smith the series. Already a regular on TV station
WNBC in New York, she has made pilots for a celebrity-interview
show that may air on the Fox network next fall.
</p>
<p> Cozying up with sources is par for the gossip course, and
Smith has her own techniques. "My effort is to turn everybody
I know into a legman for me," she says. Reporters at
newspapers, magazines and the three networks, she claims, often
leak snippets to her. Agents of all kinds drop nuggets, as do
friends, parties and openings. Public relations people are
"mostly so inept that you should just forget it totally."
Though, in truth, Liz has been known to run their press
releases verbatim, as well as to promote shamelessly her
favorite restaurants, charities and plays.
</p>
<p> Such habits draw fire. The humor magazine Spy tabulates the
number of times Liz's favorites are named in her column: the
Today show's Deborah Norville shares top honors with Barbara
Walters, both having garnered a mention every six days on
average. (Frank Sinatra and Sylvester Stallone crop up every
eight days; Madonna gets a boost every twelve.) Boston Herald
gossip columnist Norma Nathan thinks Smith is a celebrity
groupie who protects her pals: "She's so In, she's Out. She's
become part of the story."
</p>
<p> Smith shrugs off such swipes. "I know reporters are all
supposed to spring out of bushes and catch everybody in
flagrante," she drawls. "I'm just not interested in taking
people apart and leaving them in little pieces." Furthermore,
she notes, "I am not a street reporter. I don't think there is
so much fun in getting out there and writing about Joe and Mary
in Queens. I love them. They're my readers, but I am an
entertainment reporter." Says feminist and editor Gloria
Steinem, a longtime Smith pal: "Liz understands the ethical
difference between being a friend and a reporter. I find her
more ethical than many other journalists."
</p>
<p> While she tracks the Trumps, Liz continues to trail other
celebs. A recent column crowed that "terrific, sexy" actor Alec
Baldwin (The Hunt for Red October) was "busy, busy" and that
Ava Gardner's grave had been stripped of flowers by fans.
Observed the columnist without a smidgen of irony: "The price
celebrities pay for their success is a lack of privacy." Bite
your tongue!
</p>
<p>By J.D. Reed. Reported by Naushad S. Mehta/New York.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>