The American Reporter

Vol. 6, No. 1332W - - May 13, 2000

Magazines:
GOING FIRST-PERSON WITH NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC'S 'TRAVELER'

WASHINGTON -- A sure sign that the world has shrunk appears in the changing emphasis of the National Geographic Society, its chronicler for more than a century.

There was a time we relied upon National Geographic to bring faraway places and exotic unknown cultures into our lives. No self-respecting teacher could allow her or his classroom to sit devoid of a collection of distinctive yellow Geographics.

Bare-breasted and body-pierced natives of places with unpronounceable names became known to us only as we perused the pages of the Society's magazine. Despite our parents' and our pastors' censorships, we knew there were peoples in the world who went without shoes, clothing and Coca-Cola. And all of this came to us in a slick, heavy magazine without advertisements.

A strong feature of National Geographic was its first-person reportage. Writers and photographers ventured on extended expeditions, then holed up in Geographic's headquarters in Washington, D.C., for as long as six months churning out their first-person reports and pictures.

Someone had gone there for us, on classy expeditions paid for by the Society, and brought back the wonders and mysteries of the hidden world in the fascinating pages of the magazine. For a long while, their reports were made without color photos.

The National Geographic of today is much changed from the mid-twentieth century. Now in full color and loaded with advertisements, National Geographic still explores, but its explorations are less geographic and more culturally and scientifically specific.

Recent examples that illustrate the subtle shift would be its elaborate studies of insects, famous airplane flights and the marvels of microbiology and outer space.

The Society's publications have grown, too, and almost as popular as the flagship National Geographic magazine is the larger, prize-winning and tourist-targeted National Geographic Traveler, published eight times each year and loaded with invitations to visit faraway places and exotic unknown cultures. ("Tourist" is a rarely used word by the editors of Traveler, who prefer the phrase "world travelers.")

The sure sign that the world shrunk lies in Geographic's shift from trying to bring the remote world to us to trying to take us to the remote world.

One thing hasn't changed. Anyone who makes even a cursory read of NG's Traveler magazine will see that first-person travel journalism is the rule. Writers for Traveler, like the adventurers of the old National Geographic, are not afraid to use the personal pronoun "I."

The old magazines said, "I was there, and now I'll tell you about it." The new magazines say, "I was there, and you can be too."

As magazines go, Traveler is hardly new. It began in October, 1984. Recognizing that its largely American audience was becoming more affluent and more travel oriented, the Society gave the magazine its head. In the 16 years since, the Society has nurtured Traveler into ostensibly the premier travel magazine of the world.

The Society recognized early that travel would become big business in the U.S., and it has. As an indicator, consider that in 1999 close to 3,000 books on travel were published, about a dozen books for each working day in the year. As a comparison, consider that most publishers turn out perhaps a half dozen -- if that many -- books of poetry in a year.

The genius of Traveler, of course, lies in its retention of the first-person reports that made National Geographic famous. So, for example, in the current issue of Traveler writer Charles N. Barnard begins his story like one sitting in the living room recounting his travels: "Friends ask why I like to visit Helsinki, as if they consider the city a strange choice. 'I mean, come on! Helsinki? Why do you keep going back?' I love this place, but I understand my friends' questioning."

One of the drawbacks of the magazine, from a reader's perspective, is that advertising photography has become so colorful and slick with modern technology that it's often difficult to distinguish the feature stories and art from the promotions. It's quite easy to breeze through a copy of Traveler without paying attention to the text. That would be a sad mistake.

Doing so with the May/June issue, for example, one would miss the outstanding story by Ray Bradbury, the renowned fantasy writer. Bradbury puts a new twist on world travel by encouraging readers visiting favorite spots to get out in the rain, fog and morning mist for a true traveler's delight.

If I can be granted some hyperbole, Bradbury's prose in this brief feature, "Beautiful Bad Weather," is worth the yearly subscription price to the magazine.

Also scattered between the covers are tiny testimonials called, "Personal Place." In these little blurbs, celebrities tell us of their favorite geographic spots on the globe. Actress Diane Keaton, for example, reveals in the latest issue that her favorite spot is the coastline of Baja California.

A similar small feature called "First Person" allows natives of the region being discussed to speak of their land. So, Vera M. Weber, a native Alaskan Eskimo now a curator for a museum in her homeland, is given opportunity to express her appreciation for "this beautiful, untamed place."

Two caveats: There is a tendency for Traveler's stories toward entertainment and food. This, apparently, is what truly attracts "world travelers" to faraway and exotic places. Even actress Keaton is lured into mentioning a Baja California restaurant. Second, if one plans to use Traveler as a vacation guide, one had best be affluent and able to spare long periods of leisure time.

If, like me, one doesn't meet these criteria, one can still enjoy vicariously the first-person travels of the writers and the fine photography that continues the National Geographic tradition of bringing the beautiful and alluring world to us.

Allan R. Andrews is an editor in Washington, D.C., and a freelance writer. He can be reached at allan.andrews@reporters.net

Copyright 2000 Joe Shea The American Reporter. All Rights Reserved.