September 28, 2009

Damaged reputations | Media | MediaGuardian

Damaged reputations

Vanity Fair's editor has done his readers a disservice by writing an article that attempts to gloss over Roman Polanski's libel victory against the magazine, says Roy Greenslade

I have long admired Graydon Carter, the editor of Vanity Fair. He produces a polished, readable magazine that pulls off the neat trick of lending credibility to an array of celebrity trivia while covering a range of serious topics in an accessible, yet intelligent, fashion.

Low-brow meets high-brow in a glossy cultural concoction that contrives to say a great deal about modern America.

And not only the United States. Mr Carter appears both to understand, and have an affection for, Britain. He indulges the Brit polemicist Christopher Hitchens and among his contributing editors are Andrew Neil, AA Gill, Victoria Mather, Janine di Giovanni and Rupert Everett.

The latest issue (October 2005) includes a lengthy and detailed analysis of Britain's newspaper format revolution, heaping praise on the Guardian and its editor.

But that issue, now on sale in Britain, also carries a piece under Mr Carter's own byline about a British court case and its aftermath that is so economical with the truth and so lacking in fairness, that it could well undermine his, and his magazine's, reputation.

Mr Carter is upset that he lost a libel action against Vanity Fair brought in Britain by Roman Polanski, the film director, who lives in France and who gave evidence to the high court by video link because, if he had set foot in London, he would face extradition to the US for having sex with a girl of 13 in 1977.

The libel case hinged on an incident that occurred even further back, in 1969, soon after the murder of Polanski's wife, Sharon Tate.

According to a Vanity Fair article, published in July 2002, Polanski was in the famous New York restaurant, Elaine's, when he made sexual advances to a woman said to resemble Tate. He is alleged to have touched her knee and said he would make her "another Sharon Tate".

Vanity Fair depended for its allegations on the evidence of Lewis Lapham, the editor of Harper's magazine, and his friend, Edward Perlberg, a former Wall Street executive.

Lapham claimed to have seen Polanski make the pass at a "Swedish model", who was with Perlberg. Polanski told the court he couldn't remember anything remotely like that having occurred, and was supported by Mia Farrow, who was with him at Elaine's, and who stated in court that it definitely did not happen.

The jury found for Polanski, awarding him £50,000 in damages, and a bill for costs likely to reach £1m. Immediately after the trial Mr Carter cast himself as a wronged man, pointing out that it was astonishing that the court had allowed Polanski to give evidence by video.

One glaringly obvious omission from the trial was the "Swedish model" at the centre of the allegation, Beate Telle. Though supposedly asked to give evidence, she did not do so. But a couple of days after the trial's conclusion the Mail on Sunday tracked her down.

It transpired that she was, in fact, Norwegian. She told the paper that she well remembered seeing Polanski that evening, though she didn't know who he was until told later by Perlberg.

She said that Polanski approached the table where she was sitting but did not speak to her and certainly didn't touch her. "He just stared at me for ages," she said. "Perhaps I reminded him of Sharon Tate."

Though Telle's statement was made in a newspaper interview rather than in court, it is surely germane to how we view the case. She was unequivocally denying that Polanski had been guilty of any bad behaviour towards her and therefore. if what she said was correct, destroyed the credibility of Vanity Fair's sordid tittle-tattle.

So, in the editor's article about the case, I expected him to make some reference to Telle's recollection of events, even if to pose relevant questions about why she had apparently rejected the chance to give evidence. Instead, he never mentioned her name.

He devoted his piece to a gentle debunking of Britain's libel law, for which I have some sympathy, taking cliched side-wipes at the differences between court-room conduct and the jury selection process in Britain and the US.

There are also amusing diversions, such as a pen-portrait of his encounter with the woman who runs the pub behind the high court.

But the insistent message of Mr Carter's article is that Polanski is a villain and the magazine was justified in its allegation.

He neatly skips over his magazine's mistakes, seemingly concealing the fact that it got Telle's nationality wrong by referring to her as a Scandinavian model and arguing that another error - the date of the Elaine's incident was out by two weeks - was of no consequence.

He makes no reference to Telle's denial, thereby robbing Vanity Fair readers of the chance to make up their own minds about the case and blandly concludes: "I was stirred but not shaken by the verdict."

Well, if he wasn't, he should have been. Just because Polanski has a bad reputation, it doesn't mean that journalists should publish false stories about him.

The episode does no credit to Mr Carter or his magazine. Telle's version of events is hugely significant. By failing to mention it, Mr Carter compounds his magazine's previous errors.

If he goes on keeping his readers in the dark he will surely earn his magazine a new nickname: Vanity Unfair.

Damaged reputations | Media | MediaGuardian