In his postings as a foreign correspondent, Mr. Kleins reported from Moscow that the Soviet Union was collapsing. In addition to a string of page one articles chronicling the news, he has found a perfect metaphor for the crashed superpower in its airline.
March 22, 1991
MOSCOW – Carry-on luggage has been safely stored, including Twitter cages, one to one of Stalin’s dynamos, a giant shiny metal-like piece of metal, home-made cooking bags, crockery, bootleg vodka, portable air mattresses at the airport, the waitress at the airport. Trampoline – All the comforts of a lumpen jet in an airflot.
It is the airline of Soviet communism and the largest in the world, and a shocking, suffocating metaphor for the bedridden state of Soviet life.
If there is a real attempt at economic competition here, the aeroflot will have to be divided into rival parts, like some mythical creature, and many of its tortured passengers can only hope to witness its shocks.
Through this mid-flight, each passenger is provided with a cup of water, the sum of the cabin attendants’ conveniences, which is a feature of the aeroflot, which radiates a sense of erroneous frown and trucullance.
Most of the comrades spread out without shoes, the permanent condition of many open-mouthed steers which was Soviet air travel. Sleeping people are like tired Galli Orsman. These are a collective drop wrapped in a single stuck trajectory, a sigh of relief from beards and fur hats, seat belts hanging in oblivion as many take off.
Covering the Carter-Reagan campaign for president in 1980, Mr. Kleins took readers behind the scenes for a small part of campaign life.
October 21, 1980
CHICAGO, Oct. 17 – “Honey, we’re late,” Nancy Reagan has literally become Reagan Hearth from what she’s called, the top rung of the ladder to the door of their much-anticipated campaign jetliner, hopefully called Leadership 80.
But Ronald Reagan was still busy in the office – on the tarmac at Lagarde Airport in New York, where he gave Jimmy Carter one or two final knocks, a squinting, listening to news reporters.
He finally turned to Nancy, who waited with a mocking smile saying “Oh those politicians.” And the Republican candidate for the presidency tied the steps, smiling at his wife with the perfect seat-less timing that all presidential couples, Jimmy and Rosalin, John and Cake, show across America.
News reporters were dissatisfied and avoided this on-screen scene. A melee guy stepped out of the pack, returned to his seat on the second jet, the Reagan Media “Zoo” plane, and raised himself above the engine to talk about an unusually exciting development there.
“Hello, hello,” said the amateur man, connecting the aircraft’s microphone to his action-news-eyewitness-living anchor desk. “Here we go,” he said, pushing his baritone like a revolver. “And three, two, one: ‘Ronald Reagan has agreed to one debate after another with President Carter today …'”
Thus the hope has returned that the campaign could prove to be something more than isolated jet caravans that make their way across America each evening on the TV news screens.
In 1993, the Bronx Zoo changed its name. In the hands of Mr. Kleins, it was a first-page story, with a supposition of astonishing irony hidden just below the Timesian surface.
February 4, 1993
The New York Zoological Society, deciding yesterday that the term “zoo” has become an urban slur with limited horizons, announced that it is removing the term from the Bronx Zoo, Central Park Zoo, Queens Zoo and Prospect Park Zoo.
From Monday, these will be called Wildlife Conservation Parks, said William Conway, president of the society, who acknowledged that he could greatly exacerbate the urban problem outside of the zoo’s 10,000 animals. But he said he had to do something with a little word.
“I’ve been here for 37 years and it’s like changing my father’s name,” he said. “But the time has come.”
After arguing over the idea of keeping the “zoo” aside for the past two years, the Society’s directors finally agreed with Mr. Conway that it was time to raise this serious issue with the city and the world that society does much more than the zoo. , 158 conservation and research projects are being developed worldwide.
“It goes far beyond what you see at the zoo,” Mr. Conway said, unable to exclude the word himself during an interview.
“It’s short and chic – the zoo – and we know we’ve created a problem,” he said. “But in The American Heritage Dictionary, the word‘ zoo ’has a secondary meaning, a situation or place characterized by‘ widespread confusion or disorder ’. We are not confused or chaotic. And it’s really too late for a simple idea of a conventional zoo. We need sea change.
The 98-year-old society is so set in its trajectory that it doesn’t even want to see the word in its own title and has officially changed its name to NYZS / The Wildlife Conservation Society.