Someday, when they tell the story of how digital magazines saved Conde Nast, it will begin in San Francisco’s Caffé Centro sometime in May 2009.
It was there that Wired creative director Scott Dadich asked Wired editor Chris Anderson to meet him to discuss the creation of a prototype for a new digital tablet. Mr. Dadich knew the iPhone screen was far too small to re-create the magazine experience, but it got him thinking about a Minority Report-like touchscreen that could work. Mr. Dadich took out a cocktail napkin and drew an illustration of what Wired could look like on a 13-inch tablet screen.
The sketch worked. Mr. Dadich got the go-ahead to make a prototype (which they dubbed, cutely, Project 13), and skimmed a few thousand dollars off his own budget to make a five-minute video about the project. The video was a hit with Condé executives, who asked other editors and publishers to watch it. It was used to forge an alliance between Condé Nast and Adobe.
Mr. Dadich’s former boss at Texas Monthly said he is regarded as ‘some sort of combination of Jesus and Pele’ in the print magazine design world.
And about a year later, the cocktail napkin would take the form of the Wired iPad app, the first bona fide success in publishing’s transition to digital apps. It has sold 102,884 copies since it hit the market, an impressive feat for a company that had been floundering digitally. Only weeks after its release, Condé Nast executives said they were changing the company’s business model, appointing Bob Sauerberg as the company’s new president to focus on new revenue streams, much of it from the digital experience. And sensing that they might be ahead of the competition when it comes to turning magazines into apps, executives at the company gave Mr. Dadich, all of 34 years old, an office at 4 Times Square, a new title-executive director of digital magazine development — to add to his role at Wired, and the assignment to help nearly every magazine in Condé’s stable create a digital edition.
One result is that Mr. Dadich, who has lived most of his life in Texas, has skyrocketed into an overnight star in the Si Newhouse empire. He is — to put it in terms that have described many before him — the new It Boy of publishing. Having already established his print magazine design chops — Evan Smith, the editor of the Texas Tribune and Mr. Dadich’s former boss at Texas Monthly, said he is regarded as “some sort of combination of Jesus and Pele” in the print magazine design world — it now seems like he is on the road to doing something much more significant.
His job, on paper, is to help editors at magazines like The New Yorker and Vogue manage their time and brainstorm ideas about what works on the iPad. But at a time when Newsweek goes for $1 and the industry is in desperate need for heroes, Mr. Dadich is widely seen as the guy who can bridge magazine design and technology, and bring the business one step closer to salvation.
“He’s one of those clever people who can take history and the future and merge them into the present,” said Platon, a New Yorker photographer who has won two consecutive National Magazine Awards for photo portfolios and credits Mr. Dadich for giving him his start in America. “People have done that before in other genres. Miles Davis did it, Frank Lloyd Wright did that. And I think Scott has the capacity to do that.”
“With a talent like Scott, magazines will never die,” said George Lois, the legendary former art director of Esquire.
“He just has it,” said David Remnick, the editor of The New Yorker.
“He will be the spark that ignites a conflagration,” said Tom Wallace, Condé Nast’s editorial director.
MR. DADICH GOT his first big break at Texas Monthly. Ten years ago, Evan Smith was coming in as editor and needed to find a new art director. Mr. Smith had little reason to consider Mr. Dadich, who was then just freshly out of school and in the job of associate art director for a mere nine months. He had virtually no previous experience. The art director position at Texas Monthly had been held by legends like Fred Woodward and DJ Stout. But when Mr. Smith met Mr. Dadich, he knew there was something unique about him. “I had an intuition,” said Mr. Smith. “He had a combination of charisma and seriousness of purpose and a bigness about his ambition. You could see from talking to him for a very short period of time he had a plan — he had a plan for himself, and he had a plan for you.”
Mr. Smith had a lot on the line. Every magazine editor ties his early fate to the art director. Mr. Smith conducted a national search, and there were plenty of candidates, but he couldn’t get Mr. Dadich out of his head. So Mr. Smith called off the job search and decided to make a go of it with the 24-year-old. The business-side people down the hallway cringed at this prospect. “I think in every profession there are people who are born with certain skills and a degree of interests that just propel them forward like a rocket booster,” said Mr. Smith.
Quickly, Mr. Smith’s leap of faith was well rewarded, and Mr. Dadich’s tenure as art director became almost as celebrated as his predecessors.
Wired had heard about him, and after several rounds of interviews, the magazine snagged him in 2006 to become its creative director. He became the first person ever to win both the National Magazine Award for Design and the Society of Publication Designers Magazine of the Year award three consecutive years, in 2008, 2009 and 2010. George Lois said that when you line up Mr. Dadich with the all-time-great magazine designers, “he’s now joining the club.”
But being a design guy for a print product was hardly where Mr. Dadich wanted to stop. “He has business skills, organizational skills, technical skills,” said Mr. Anderson, Wired‘s editor. “This is a guy who can have a deep conversation about Objective-C architecture with one guy, a deep conversation about typography with another and a deep conversation about business models and distribution strategies with another.”
“He always demonstrated to me an interest in the magazine from the 360-degree perspective that most art directors don’t have,” said Mr. Smith. “He cared about the business side, he cared about circulation, he cared about ad sales, he cared about everything, the whole thing.”
IT WAS THE SECOND DAY in Mr. Dadich’s new seventh-floor office at 4 Times Square, and the space was entirely empty, except for George Lois’ MoMA Esquire book, an iPad and a document on his desk that was addressed to Condé Nast executives about the Wired tablet and labeled HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL. He was wearing a perfectly tailored blazer (“You gotta write all about his style!” said Cindi Leive, the Glamour editor), and he has perfect posture, well-groomed sideburns and slicked-back hair with a couple strands inadvertently straggling out, like Alfalfa. He speaks clearly and deliberately in a dry monotone, and the Lubbock native seems to somehow shed any trace of a Texas drawl (“I hide it pretty well,” he said).
“I believe in the power of technology to upend an industry,” Mr. Dadich said. “We see that every day at Wired. We watch how technology radically alters landscapes.
“The only reason magazine design looks the way it does is because it’s the literal, physical limitations of two pieces of paper,” he said.
“With this,” he said, gesturing to an iPad sitting on a couch, “we wiped the slate clean. We have one pane. We have these many pixels. We have this proportion. How are we going to use it and how are we going to tell a story?”
The iPad happens to be the first of these devices. But as more tablet devices pop up on the landscape, it will become unwieldy to reassign the iPad work to outsiders. Today, he has no way to leverage the skills of, say, his art director in a digital environment since it requires two different skill sets with two different programs.
In Mr. Dadich’s ideal, it will work like this: A design editor will open up his computer screen and there will be four images down the right-hand side. Two will be dedicated to tablet devices; another is for the printed product; the last is for a mobile device. The design director will lay out a page unique to each medium. If you’re a story editor or a copy editor, you’ll make a change once, and it will show up in every version.
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