"... he has become famous by eschewing fame and is today one of the best-known unknown men in the country." Thus was William Shawn, editor of the New Yorker for thirty-five years, characterized in 1975 by his longtime associate Brendan Gill. While certainly not a recluse in the ordinary sense of the word, Shawn invariably declined to grant personal interviews, and most of his friends and colleagues have declined to discuss him with interviewers. He exemplified the persona of the editor--powerful, eminent, but invisible to the public.

Shawn's personal vision helped mold the New Yorker into a magazine that combined literature and journalism in a way that is unique in American publishing. In the magazine's 22 April 1985 "Notes and Comments" section, Shawn wrote of his New Yorker: "In an age when television screens are too often bright with nothing, we value substance. Amid a chaos of images, we value coherence. We...