There is a moment, standing before the delicate typewritten pages of Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood, when the weight of The New Yorker’s century-long influence becomes unmistakable. In the hushed grandeur of The New York Public Library’s exhibition hall, A Century of The New Yorker unfurls the magazine’s legacy with an assured grace, offering visitors a rare glimpse into the evolving ethos of America’s most enduring literary and artistic institution.
I had the pleasure of attending the opening on February 21, on The New Yorker’s 100th birthday. This landmark exhibition charts the magazine’s evolution from the roaring twenties to the digital age, drawing from NYPL’s vast archives and supplemented by treasures from The New Yorker itself. Early issues and mock-ups, iconic covers, and internal correspondences offer a behind-the-scenes view of how a weekly humor magazine became a bastion of investigative journalism, sharp cultural criticism, and era-defining storytelling.
Among the most striking artifacts are W.H. Auden’s handwritten draft of Refugee Blues (1939), Hannah Arendt’s original typescript for Eichmann in Jerusalem (1963), and the correspondence between William Shawn and John Hersey leading up to the publication of Hiroshima (1946), each a reminder of how The New Yorker has never shied away from weighty subjects. But nestled among the historic touchstones are unexpected delights: Dorothy Parker’s mischievous manuscript list of “Unattractive Authors Whose Work I Admire,” Vladimir Nabokov’s hand-graded copy of 55 Short Stories from The New Yorker, and the twin typewriters of Lillian Ross and William Shawn, sitting side by side like old friends locked in endless dialogue.
Yet, the magazine’s legacy is not merely that of its famous contributors. The exhibition highlights the work of unsung heroes: copy editors, fact-checkers, and typists who ensured that each issue was crafted to exacting standards. A Century of The New Yorker serves as a love letter to their labor, ensuring that the magazine’s meticulous craftsmanship is acknowledged alongside its celebrated writers and artists.
The New Yorker, a publication so often seen as a reflection of its time, has also played an active role in shaping it.
As I made my way through the final section — dedicated to the magazine’s contemporary presence, including interactive elements like Kadir Nelson’s Say Their Names cover — there was a sense of both continuity and change. The New Yorker, a publication so often seen as a reflection of its time, has also played an active role in shaping it. My personal favorite moment from the exhibit showcases the many New Yorker covers featuring the New York Public Library, a nice moment of synchronicity.
Exiting the library onto 42nd Street, the atmosphere shifts. A crowd has gathered in protest—against what, it’s unclear, as I was ushered down a side ramp away from the demonstration. Signs are held high, voices raised in impassioned debate. The contrast is striking. Inside, a century of progress is documented with the cool remove of a historian’s lens; outside, the struggle for the next chapter of America plays out in real time. Perhaps, in its own way, this moment is as much a testament to The New Yorker’s legacy as any artifact preserved on the walls: a reminder that history is never static and that the stories we tell — as well as the ones we choose to leave out — matter. That we all play a part in shaping culture.
A Century of The New Yorker is on view until February 21, 2026.
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