2026年8月9日 / 美国东部时间上午10:23 / 哥伦比亚广播公司新闻
作者：凯莱法·桑尼
1969年出版的《王国与权力》是盖伊·特莱斯的代表作，书中讲述了《纽约时报》内部的权力博弈与家族恩怨，特莱斯本人正是从该报的送稿员一步步成长为记者。这部非虚构作品读来犹如一部观察入微的小说，也是他的第一本畅销书——为撰写此书，特莱斯耗时六年。“我一直是个写作节奏极慢的人，”他曾说。
大多数记者都是永不安分的窥探者，他们总能看到世界的疮疤、人与地点的瑕疵。生活中平和的场景、地球大部分未被疯狂浸染的角落，远不如骚乱与突袭、分崩离析的国家、沉没的船只、被流放到里约的银行家、被焚烧的佛教尼姑那样吸引他们——阴郁是他们的主题，奇观是他们的热爱，常态则是他们的克星。
——节选自《王国与权力》
“我希望读者能和我一样，在脑海中勾勒出清晰的画面，”特莱斯说道。
盖伊·特莱斯是作家与记者界的传奇人物。他的职业生涯享誉全球，也曾不时引发争议，跨度长达约70年。近日，纽约公共图书馆收购了他的职业与私人档案。
盖伊·特莱斯。哥伦比亚广播公司新闻
他在《纽约时报》发表的第一篇文章正是关于《纽约时报》本身——具体来说，是那座用五英尺高的字母滚动播放头条新闻的发光招牌。这块环绕时报大楼旋转的招牌是20世纪初时代广场的标志性景观，几乎没人想过是谁在更换上面的灯泡。“过去，那栋大楼四楼有个家伙，会操作一台机器，把组成头条的灯泡装在大楼外围，”特莱斯回忆道。
电工詹姆斯·J·托皮因此在报纸上留名，特莱斯却没有。但他找到了自己的人生方向。“我想成为那些身处黑暗之中的人们的点灯人，”特莱斯说，“那是我最初的志向。我想写普通人的故事，让他们广为人知，直到死后有人为他们撰写讣告——因为他们确实曾被世人记住。”
纽约大学阿瑟·L·卡特新闻学院的教授罗伯特·博因顿称特莱斯是“我见过最好奇的人。有一次他赶路途中，看到有人在外面施工，便上前开始采访对方。”
到1965年，杂志广告营收丰厚，聚集了一众优秀的故事讲述者。在主编哈罗德·海耶斯的带领下，《时尚先生》成为诺曼·梅勒、汤姆·沃尔夫、特莱斯等作家的创作灯塔。
“我拿到了一份为期一年的合同，”特莱斯回忆道，“海耶斯说：‘你可以写三篇关于你感兴趣的人的报道。’而我必须写弗兰克。”
《时尚先生》杂志
他随后在1966年发表的文章《弗兰克·辛纳屈患了感冒》，成为史上最知名的杂志报道之一。“你不得不对辛纳屈心生敬意，”特莱斯说，“我不会奉承任何人，我始终保持克制。但我确实敬重辛纳屈。”
但特莱斯当时陷入了困境：弗兰克·辛纳屈拒绝与他交谈。为摆脱僵局，特莱斯做出了一件至今仍在新闻院校被热议、被教授的事：他绕开当事人进行报道。特莱斯花了33天采访了100多位与辛纳屈有交集的人。最终的成品读起来更像一篇短篇小说，而非常规的名人专访，特莱斯也因此被称为“新新闻主义”的领军实践者之一。
患了感冒的辛纳屈，就像没了颜料的毕加索、没了燃油的法拉利——甚至更糟。普通的感冒夺走了辛纳屈那不可估量的珍宝：他的嗓音，直击他自信的核心，这不仅影响了他的精神状态，似乎还让数十名为他工作、与他共饮、爱慕他、依靠他维持生计与安稳生活的人出现了类似心因性的鼻塞症状。患感冒的辛纳屈，哪怕只是小小的不适，也会像美国总统突然病倒撼动全国经济一样，给娱乐行业乃至更广泛的领域带来连锁反应。
——节选自《弗兰克·辛纳屈患了感冒》
博因顿表示：“特莱斯真正采用了电影化的叙事手法，这在当时主流的《时代》周刊或《新闻周刊》那种刻板的企业式写作中是前所未有的。”
但特莱斯称，他从未想过《弗兰克·辛纳屈患了感冒》会引发如此广泛的共鸣。“我当时并不在意这篇关于辛纳屈的报道，”他说，“我写过很多优秀的作品。” 从《坏新闻先生》（讲述《纽约时报》讣告作者奥尔登·惠特曼），到乔·迪马吉奥、弗洛伊德·帕特森、乔·路易斯等 aging 体育明星的专访，皆是如此。
他关于拳击手乔·路易斯的专访，开篇便是路易斯没有直接和特莱斯交谈，而是先和妻子对话。这正是特莱斯口中“耐心守候的艺术”的范例：“我希望能赢得他们的信任，让我能陪伴他们，记录他们的日常。”
“嗨，亲爱的！”乔·路易斯看到妻子在洛杉矶机场等候，便开口招呼。
她笑了笑，朝他走来，正准备踮起脚尖吻他——却突然停住了。
“乔，”她说，“你的领带呢？”
“哎呀，亲爱的，”他耸耸肩说道，“我在纽约待了一整夜，没时间——”
“一整夜！”她打断道，“你在这儿的时候就只知道睡觉，睡觉，睡觉。”
“亲爱的，”乔·路易斯带着疲惫的笑容说道，“我老了。”
“是啊，”她附和道，“但你一回纽约就想变回年轻人。”
——节选自《乔·路易斯：中年王者》
博因顿说，他鼓励学生成为（他用的词是）“特莱斯式”的记者。“这意味着在采访时多走一里路，对你要挖掘的内容保持创新思维，多花时间，早到晚走，”他说。
还有着装。对特莱斯而言，外表至关重要：“我曾写过一本关于韦拉札诺海峡大桥建设者的书（《大桥》）。我戴着安全帽、穿着西装打着领带，爬上了脚手架。”
在研究关于裸体主义者与妓院的著作《邻人之妻》时，他有时会选择随意着装。“1972年，我住在加州，身边都是色情从业者和裸体主义者。”
他不仅在记录那个世界，在某种程度上也融入了其中。“当我和黑帮混在一起时，我和骗子、杀人犯、歹徒厮混。要和裸体主义者待在一起，你不能带着记者证。我不能待在新闻采访区写那篇报道。”
他与南希·特莱斯结婚已有67年，南希是出版界最受尊敬的编辑之一。“我写《邻人之妻》的时候，已经有了两个孩子，妻子也身处公众视野之中。她当时很尴尬，确实如此。她本该感到尴尬。我也有点不好意思。但我想完成这个故事。我和很多记者一样，非常在意故事本身，愿意为了得到故事而承担后果。”
事实证明，南希一直都是故事的一部分。“我长期在构思一本名为《非虚构婚姻》的书，讲述我的婚姻，我和一位成就斐然的女性的婚姻，”他说。但这本承诺已久的书至今仍未完成。“我们还没走完这段路——我们的婚姻还没结束，”他说。
盖伊·特莱斯不愿被催促。尽管在我们采访他后不久，他透露自己正与帕金森症抗争。
现年94岁的他分享了自己对写作的看法：“我至少应该配得上自己最后一部优秀作品的水准。”
这是否意味着，他最好的作品或许还未问世？
“我们一直都希望如此！”他答道。
职业生涯的大部分时间里，特莱斯都在纽约上东区自家联排别墅地下室的办公室里工作。那里没有阳光，没有电话，没有外界的干扰。他周围挂满了照片，还有每一篇报道的笔记——精心保存的、关于这份工作的所有美好回忆。
盖伊·特莱斯在办公室。哥伦比亚广播公司新闻
“当我离世时，”他说，“我希望自己写过的所有文字都不会让我在来世感到难堪。我想我已经做到了。我会带着始终全力以赴的满足感离开人世。”
Tales from Gay Talese
August 9, 2026 / 10:23 AM EDT / CBS News
By Kelefa Sanneh
“The Kingdom and the Power,” Gay Talese’s 1969 book, recounted power plays and family feuds at The New York Times, where he rose from copyboy to reporter. A work of non-fiction that read like a well-observed novel, it was his first bestseller – one that took Talese six years to write. “I’ve always been a very slow writer,” he said.
Most journalists are restless voyeurs who see the warts on the world, the imperfections in people and places. The sane scene that is much of life, the great portion of the planet unmarked by madness, does not lure them like riots and raids, crumbling countries, and sinking ships, bankers banished to Rio and burning Buddhist nuns – gloom is their game, the spectacle their passion, normality their nemesis.
From “The Kingdom and the Power”_
“I want the reader to have a picture in mind, as I have myself,” Talese said.
Gay Talese is a legend among writers and reporters. His career, both celebrated and, at times, controversial, spans some 70 years. Recently, the New York Public Library acquired his professional and personal archive.
Writer Gay Talese. CBS News
The first piece he ever wrote in The New York Times was about The New York Times, specifically the lit-up sign that broadcast headlines in five-foot-high letters. That sign, which revolved around the Times building, was a fixture in Times Square during the early 20th century. Hardly anyone thought about who changed the lightbulbs. “There used to be a guy on the fourth floor of that building who would write in a machine that would put the bulbs around the building that made the headlines,” Talese said.
Electrician James J. Torpey got his name in the paper. Talese didn’t. But, he’d found his calling. “I wanted to be the lamplighter for those people who were in the dark,” Talese said. “That was my main ambition. I wanted to write about people and make them known enough to have to have an obituary written about them, ’cause they were known.”
Robert Boynton, a professor at the Arthur L. Carter Journalism Institute at New York University, called Talese “the most curious person I’ve ever met. He was on his way somewhere once, and some guy was doing construction outside, and he started interviewing him.”
By 1965, magazines were fat with advertising, and populated by great storytellers. Esquire, under the editor Harold Hayes, was a beacon for writers like Norman Mailer, Tom Wolfe, and Talese.
“I had a contract, one year,” Talee recalled. “Hayes said, ‘You could write three pieces on your people.’ And, I had to write about Frank.”
Esquire
His resulting 1966 article, “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold,” is one of the most famous magazine stories ever. “You had to be impressed with Sinatra,” Talese said. “I’m not fawning on people. I keep my reserves. But I was respectful of Sinatra.”
But Talese was in trouble: Frank Sinatra would not speak to him. To get himself out of trouble, Talese did something that’s still talked about, and still taught, in journalism schools: he wrote around the story. Talese spent 33 days interviewing more than 100 people who surrounded Sinatra. The result read more like a short story than a typical celebrity profile, and Talese became known as a leading practitioner of what was called “New Journalism.”
Sinatra with a cold is Picasso without paint, Ferrari without fuel—only worse. For the common cold robs Sinatra of that uninsurable jewel, his voice, cutting into the core of his confidence, and it affects not only his own psyche but also seems to cause a kind of psychosomatic nasal drip within dozens of people who work for him, drink with him, love him, depend on him for their own welfare and stability. A Sinatra with a cold can, in a small way, send vibrations through the entertainment industry and beyond as surely as a president of the United States, suddenly sick, can shake the national economy.
From “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold”_
Boynton said, “Talese really takes this sort of cinematic approach, which did not exist before in the very sort of flat, corporate writing of, say, Time or Newsweek that really was dominant in that time.”
But Talese said he didn’t know “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold” would resonate as it did. “I didn’t care about the Sinatra piece,” he said. “And I have written many good pieces.” From “Mr. Bad News” (about Alden Whitman, the obituary writer at The New York Times), to profiles of aging sports figures, like Joe DiMaggio, Floyd Patterson, and Joe Louis.
His profile of Louis, the boxer, starts with him not talking to Talese, but talking to his wife. It’s an example of what Talese calls “the art of hanging around. I hope I win their confidence to allow me to accompany them on what they do.”
_”Hi, sweetheart!” Joe Louis called to his wife, spotting her waiting for him at the Los Angeles airport.
She smiled, walked toward him, and was about to stretch up on her toes and kiss him—but suddenly stopped.
“Joe,” she said, “where’s your tie?”
“‘Aw, sweetie,” he said, shrugging, “I stayed out all night in New York and didn’t have time—”
“‘All night!” she cut in. “When you’re out here all you do is sleep, sleep, sleep.”
“‘Sweetie,” Joe Louis said, with a tired grin, “I’m an ole man.”
“‘Yes,” she agreed, “but when you go to New York you try to be young again.”
From “Joe Louis: The King as a Middle-aged Man”_
Boynton says he encourages his students to be (the word he uses is) Talesian. “That means going the extra mile in your reporting, being creative about the kinds of things you’re gonna look into, taking extra time, showing up early, staying late,” he said.
And dressing up. To Talese, appearances matter: “I once wrote a whole book about the Verrazzano Bridge builders (“The Bridge”). I went up in the scaffolding wearing a hard hat, and a suit and a tie.”
While researching his book “Thy Neighbor’s Wife,” about nudists and brothels, he sometimes chose to dress down. “In 1972, I’m living in California. I’m living in a world of pornographers and nudist fornicators.”
And he wasn’t just chronicling that world; to some extent he became part of that world. “When I was with the Mafia, I was hanging out with crooks and murderers and gangsters. To hang around with nudists, you can’t be there with your press card. I couldn’t hang around the press box and write that story.”
He has been married to Nan Talese, one of publishing’s most admired editors, for 67 years. “I had two children when I wrote ‘Thy Neighbor’s Wife’, and a wife that was in the public eye. She was embarrassed, likely. She should have been embarrassed. And I was sort of embarrassed, too. But I wanted the story. There’s something about me (and a lot of journalists), they care a lot about the story, and they’re willing to take the rap to get the story.”
It turns out, Nan has been the story all along. “I have a longstanding relationship with a book called ‘A Non-Fiction Marriage,’ it’s about my marriage, my marriage to a woman of great achievement,” he said. But the long-promised book is still not finished. “We’re not done – our marriage is not done yet,” he said.
Gay Talese won’t be pushed. Although not long after we talked to him, he revealed that he is battling Parkinson’s disease.
Now 94, he shared his thinking about writing: “I should be, at least, as good as my last best work.”
Does that suggest that, maybe, his best book is yet to come?
“We always hope that’s true!” he replied.
For most of his career, Talese has worked in an office in the basement of his brownstone, on New York’s Upper East Side. There, there is no sunlight, no phone, no outside distractions. He’s surrounded by photos and every note he’s ever taken on every story – meticulously saved memories of a job well done.
Gay Talese in his office. CBS News
“When I die,” he said. “I want to have everything I wrote not embarrass me in my afterlife. I think I’ve done that. I will die with the satisfaction that I did my best at all times.”
