Shattered Glass . Microsoft Word 2010 Turn Off Show Mark Ups In Word. On the second Friday in May in the lobby of the Hyatt hotel in the Maryland suburb of Bethesda, near Washington, nothing less than the most sustained fraud in the history of modern journalism was unraveling.

No one in Lane’s experience, no one, had affected him in the eerie manner of Stephen Glass, a 2. The New Republic and a white- hot rising star in Washington journalism. It wasn’t just the relentlessness of the young reporter. Or the utter conviction with which Glass had presented work that Lane now feared was completely fabricated. It was the ingenuity of the con, the daring with which Glass had concocted his attention- getting creations, the subtle ease with which even now, as he attempted to clear himself, the strangely gifted kid created an impromptu illusion using makeshift details he had spied in the lobby just seconds earlier—a chair, a cocktail table, smoke from a cigarette.

It all seemed increasingly bizarre to Lane, who had brought Glass to the Hyatt, the supposed setting for one of those bogus stories, to see if the young man could explain it all away somehow. What was behind Glass’s behavior? Why did he do it? Lane didn’t know then that Stephen Glass had always been good at such risky business. Exceptionally good. He didn’t know that, in 1.

North Shore Chicago suburb of Highland Park, Stephen Glass—a theater- lover—had served as a technical director of Stunts, a group of talented students who produced their own work. At Highland Park High—a rigorous, competitive school where it wasn’t unusual for 5 percent of the senior class to be National Merit semifinalists—Adventures of the Mind drew the “mental giants” who loved the game of designing scenarios with creative flair. They were asked to prepare a musical in 1. Or come up, rapid- fire, with clever commercial slogans. Or act out raising a chair off the ground to see if it would float. It was the perfect fodder for smart kids.

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Last January, on the eve of the Australian Open, Serena Williams handed her fiancé, Alexis Ohanian, a paper bag containing six positive pregnancy tests.

It makes you more aware of not only your own capabilities, but also exposes you to the different types of careers that are waiting for us after we graduate.”Beneath the inventions of Stephen Glass there is his own story. People try to explain it now by citing the pressure he faced to perform, and it is true that he came from an environment in which there was brutal pressure to excel. Some stress the fact that Glass was working too much. And he was illogically, and even crazily, overextended. More tempting is the idea of seeing each of Glass’s articles, each act of manipulative, aggressive trickery, as a grander and more precariously improvised adventure of the mind. The crisis had begun to escalate on that second Friday in May. Already, Lane was virtually certain that Glass was lying about the veracity of “Hack Heaven,” a story written for the May 1.

During the previous day, Lane had seen Glass, when confronted with questions about his story, respond not only with a barrage of faked material to support his piece but also with his own psychological weaponry. He had appeared wounded, almost outraged. But Glass was acting; he knew exactly what he had done. Every name, every company, virtually every single solitary detail—except Glass’s own byline—had been a product of the young man’s imagination. But there wasn’t the slightest acknowledgment.

And you’re my editor and you should be backing me up.”He threw the 3. Lane onto the defensive. Because this, after all, was Stephen Glass, the compelling wunderkind who had seeped inside the skins of editors not only at The New Republic but also at Harper’s, George, Rolling Stone, The New York Times Magazine, and Mother Jones.

This was the Stephen Glass who had so many different writing contracts that his income this year might well have reached $1. New Republic salary). This was the Stephen Glass whose stories had attracted the attention not just of Random House—his agent was trying to score a book deal—but of several screenwriters. When unmasked, Stephen Glass was revealed as Washington journalism’s variation on Six Degrees of Separation. But before the revelation, this talented, smooth- cheeked, and painfully insecure boy had won over the world of magazines with the vigor of his youth and his equally alluring vulnerability. He had appeared, amid the self- centeredness of the capital city, as refreshingly flexible. Janet Cooke had done it in 1.

Pulitzer Prize–winning piece for The Washington Post. Nik Cohn, 2. 1 years after the fact, blithely admitted to having made up most of the New York story that inspired the film Saturday Night Fever.

More recently, Boston Globe columnist Patricia Smith was fired for making up parts of her columns. But none of these journalists approached the sheer calculation of Glass’s deceptions. He is the perfect expression of his time and place: an era is cresting in Washington; it is a time when fact and fiction are blurred not only by writers eager to score but also by presidents and their attorneys, spinmeisters and special prosecutors. From one perspective, Stephen Glass was a master parodist of his city’s shifting truths. The New Republic, after an investigation involving a substantial portion of its editorial staff, would ultimately acknowledge fabrications in 2. Glass had written for the magazine in the two- and- a- half- year period between December 1. May 1. 99. 8. In Manhattan, John F.

Kennedy Jr., editor of George, would write a personal letter to Vernon Jordan apologizing for Glass’s conjuring up two sources who had made juicy and emphatic remarks about the sexual proclivities of the presidential adviser and his boss. At Harper’s, Glass would be dismissed from his contract after a story he had written about phone psychics, which contained 1. For those two and a half years, the Stephen Glass show played to a captivated audience; then the curtain abruptly fell. He got away with his mind games because of the remarkable industry he applied to the production of the false backup materials which he methodically used to deceive legions of editors and fact checkers.

Glass created fake letterheads, memos, faxes, and phone numbers; he presented fake handwritten notes, fake typed notes from imaginary events written with intentional misspellings, fake diagrams of who sat where at meetings that never transpired, fake voice mails from fake sources. He even inserted fake mistakes into his fake stories so fact checkers would catch them and feel as if they were doing their jobs.

He wasn’t, obviously, too lazy to report. He apparently wanted to present something better, more colorful and provocative, than mere truth offered. It all worked because of his skill at creating incredibly complex scenes and also because of that accommodating personality. Glass was the guy always ready to lend a sympathetic ear to colleagues going through divorces or trying to juggle kids and careers. He was almost brutally self- flagellating about his own work and abilities—so much so that his co- workers felt protective. But Glass’s seeming insecurity hid guts of steel. He reacted to warning shots from his possible doubters with audacity; he simply enlarged his fictions.

Glass stealthily warded off a Fortune reporter who couldn’t find a listing for an imaginary company Glass had written about. He avoided an intern from Harper’s who wanted the name of a software company that didn’t exist. He never responded to E- mail from a former New Republic colleague who asked for the name of the Las Vegas casino that took bets on whether a space shuttle would malfunction. When confronted with two different accusations of fabrication in Glass’s work during a three- month period in 1. Kelly responded not with a soul- searching interrogation of his prot. Kelly called one of them dishonest and labeled his complaint meritless, and told another that he owed Glass an apology.

Stephen Glass rode the fast curve of instant ordainment that encircles the celebrity age of the 9.