It seemed a marriage of sandals and Gucci loafers, of body odors and Bal àVersailles, of radical cheek and radical chic. The corporate merger announced last week between the Village Voice and New York magazine struck many observers as the oddest of couplings.
Since 1955, the tabloid Voice (circ. 150,000) has earnestly chronicled the peculiarities of New York City life, its iconoclastic eye quick to spot problems of the underdog. Unremittingly quarrelsome, wordy and underedited, the Voice also captures the funky, ingrown perspective of Greenwich Village. Its reviewers, including such first-rate critics as Nat...
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