Brian Baiamonte
Country Roads publisher James Fox-Smith mostly wears metaphorical hats, but some occasions call for a literal chapeau.
Had you stopped by our office on December 13 you would have found it dark and unattended because that was the day all eleven of us traded our usual Thursday routine for a van headed to New Orleans for Country Roads’ traditional Christmas lunch. We’ve done many a Christmas shindig this way, picking a restaurant that we enjoyed covering during the year, finding a van big enough (and a driver sober enough) to get us there and back in one piece, and making a delicious, relaxed, over-served day of it all. We went to Meril—the newest, sleekest, and most playful arrow in Emeril Lagasse’s quiver of restaurants. Meril is also surprisingly affordable, which is nice when you’re footing the bill. Ever met a fabulously wealthy, small independent publisher? Me neither.
But at Meril the cost is beside the point because the combination of atmosphere, décor, menu, wine list, and service on offer is difficult to come by at any price. It’s playful, delicious fun. We were wined and dined by the talented Chef Wilfredo Avelar, who did us the honor of being the first featured chef in our Country Roads Supper Club series, thereby setting the bar for all the events we’ve done since. The champagne flowed, family-style courses came in two-by-two, and every ten minutes the room would erupt into cheers as Chef Wil made some lucky diner’s birthday by sending a bright pink tower of cotton candy and a sparkler to their table. Against that backdrop of Christmas goodwill I challenge even the dourest Grinch not to totter out humming a carol or two.
Anyway, the whole crew—from Linda, who has been part of Country Roads for fourteen years; to Baylee, who started last Monday—seemed to have a good time. But if anyone couldn’t have quite as much fun as everyone else it was our account exec Heather who, being eight months and three weeks pregnant, wasn’t sure she’d be coming at all. But a team player to the last, Heather waddled aboard the Sprinter van, endured two hours’ speculation about which staff member would make the best midwife should Baton Rouge traffic require that her first-born be delivered in the back seat, then sailed magnificently into the Meril dining room with more to celebrate than anyone. So by the time you read this, Heather will be out of the office for a while. And while we wait to meet her little one we’ll be doing what comes naturally when you’re part of a small business: wearing many hats.
Everyone who has worked in small business knows how it goes: someone gets sick, goes on holiday, has a kid out of school; or, yes, becomes a Mom, and everyone else shuffles roles to make ends meet. In a close-knit, deadline-driven company there’s no “not my job.” In fact, most times we seem to jump at the opportunity to do something different. It lends perspective, makes us more empathetic, and Lord knows it’s instructive to step into someone else’s shoes for awhile.
In publishing there has traditionally been a bit of a church-and-state divide between the editorial and advertising departments. While there are sound journalistic principles behind this (editorial independence, maintaining a level playing field for advertisers), there’s also the long-held perception that, temperamentally, people tend to be better suited to working on one side of that divide or the other, but never both. For the first twenty years of my involvement with Country Roads I wore a hat marked “Editor,” and lived with both feet firmly planted on the editorial side of the divide. Now I wear one that says “Publisher,” which—if you want to remain in business—really means “Advertising Sales.” But after twenty years spent celebrating this region by exploring, and then writing about all that makes it special, I suppose I’ve really been selling it all along.
You see where this is going. While Heather is out becoming a mama I’ll be wearing her “Ad Sales” hat for awhile—getting to know more of her clients and, perhaps, even meeting some new ones. Now, after spending some time proudly wearing my sales hat, I find I kind of like it. So if you want to buy an ad, editorial/advertising divide be damned … email me.
—James Fox-Smith, man of many hats
