One hundred years of publication marks a significant milestone for The New Yorker, a magazine that has continuously been filled with superb short stories, engaging works of nonfiction, and playful cartoons. As the caretakers of The New Yorker‘s archive (2,566 boxes) comprising a century’s worth of manuscripts, memos, and artifacts, The New York Public Library (NYPL) has curated an exhibition entitled A Century of The New Yorker in order to showcase the magazine’s rich history. The exhibit is currently on view until Saturday, February 21st, 2025 at the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building, located at 42nd Street and Fifth Avenue in Manhattan.
Upon first approaching the building, it’s evident why the presentation was chosen to be held at the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building, the flagship building in the New York Public Library system. The building itself is adorned with unique statues, features complex Beaux-Arts architecture, and has a timeless, historic ambience. Hallways are lined with hundreds of books; students flock into quiet study rooms to work. Recently, however, many visitors have been filing into one particular hallway on the third floor, where the A Century of The New Yorker exhibition is held.
The exhibition progresses chronologically. Journalists Harold Ross and Jane Grant created The New Yorker in 1925 with the intention of bringing in talented artists and writers alike, catering towards an urban audience. Eventually the magazine’s purpose was redirected towards being “one of gaiety, wit and satire” while simultaneously remaining “sophisticated… [to] assume a reasonable degree of enlightenment,” expressed through Ross’s ‘Announcing a New Weekly Magazine’ manuscript. The magazine has flourished by following this formula. Consequently, it provides a thought-provoking critique of many real-world events.
By the 1930s, the magazine was thriving: The New Yorker encapsulated everything that Ross had imagined and more, by covering a variety of subjects relevant to readers in New York City, including politics, theater, social satire, urban life, and international affairs. The magazine continued to prosper throughout World War II, as it was one of the first to cover and criticize Hitler’s rise to power. The magazine’s embedded reporters across Europe and Asia sent their written missives back to the headquarters in New York City, recounting the experiences of American soldiers, the diaspora of refugees, and how the war was being conducted. The publication of John Hersey’s Hiroshima in 1946, provided the magazine with one of the first-ever accounts of the devastating damage from the atomic bombs’ detonations. The New Yorker originally planned on running Hersey’s piece over four consecutive issues, but which had planned to run it over four issues. Instead, The New Yorker’s managing editor William Shawn instead decided to dedicate the entire edition of August 31st, 1946, to publishing this one article. Hiroshima details the experiences of multiple survivors and what the use of the atomic bombs suggest about the ethical future of the atomic age. Throughout the war, The New Yorker published one insightful article after another, and by the end of the war, it was among the most best magazines in America in terms of quality of writing and reporting and depth of coverage.
As the magazine grew, the genres in which it published did too. Stellar nonfiction writing marked the 1960s at The New Yorker as activism and social change grew in American society. With numerous articles on race relations, economic problems, and the harm of industrial pollution, The New Yorker‘s writers discussed many human and social issues that plagued that era. On February 7th, 1958, New Yorker editor and writer E.B. White suggested to Rachel Carson that she write about the dangers of pesticides used for insect control in America. The result was a classic of reporting, Silent Spring, which discussed the detrimental environmental effects from the pesticide DDT by Rachel Carson, a marine biologist. The New Yorker serialized Carson’s piece and shared it with their audience, helping to rapidly propel the environmental movement forward. Around this time, the magazine’s diversity and inclusion also grew, and more people of color on staff contributed to each edition.
The New Yorker also spotlighted a plethora of well-known writers, assisting in the magazine’s development. Vladimir Nabokov’s personal copy of 55 Short Stories from The New Yorker in 1949 is just one example of this taking place, helping the magazine continue to garner a largely American audience.
Beyond individual writers, the exhibition also devotes significant attention to The New Yorker’s visual identity, particularly its covers and cartoons, which have become just as iconic as its journalism. Original sketches, editorial notes, and rejected drafts reveal the painstaking process behind images that often appear deceptively simple. The magazine’s covers, many of which do not include text, rely heavily on symbolism and cultural awareness, requiring readers to pause and interpret rather than consume passively. From whimsical depictions of city life to somber reflections on national tragedy, these visuals demonstrate how illustration has long functioned as a parallel form of commentary alongside written reporting.
Equally compelling is the exhibition’s emphasis on editorial rigor. Memos between editors and writers reveal the magazine’s famously exacting standards, particularly its commitment to fact-checking. The New Yorker’s fact-checking department, which became institutionalized earlier than at most publications, is presented as central to the magazine’s credibility. Annotated manuscripts show margins crowded with questions, corrections, and clarifications, underscoring the idea that clarity and accuracy are collaborative achievements rather than solitary acts of authorship. This behind-the-scenes glimpse reinforces the magazine’s reputation for reliability and intellectual seriousness, even when covering humor or satire.
(Liah Igel)
The exhibition also situates The New Yorker within the broader cultural landscape of American media. As newspapers declined and attention spans shortened, the magazine resisted the urge to oversimplify its content. Instead, it doubled down on depth, trusting readers to engage with complex narratives and nuanced arguments. This decision, risky at times, ultimately strengthened the publication’s identity and distinguished it from faster-paced, headline-driven outlets. The curators make clear that The New Yorker’s success has never been about chasing trends, but rather about shaping them through consistency, restraint, and confidence in its audience.
In recent years, the exhibition emphasizes how The New Yorker has adapted its identity while remaining rooted in its original mission. Even in the 21st century, as The New Yorker faces the digital era, the magazine continues to flourish, publishing riveting stories, intriguing art, and critical political reviews. The magazine’s website mirrors this balance between tradition and innovation. Long-form journalism still anchors the publication, but it now exists alongside podcasts, newsletters, videos, and interactive graphics that extend storytelling beyond the printed page. Pieces like in-depth investigative reports, cultural criticism, and personal essays reach global audiences instantly, allowing the magazine’s influence to stretch far beyond New York City.
Another focal point is the enduring role of humor and cartoons through The New Yorker’s online presence. While the jokes remain subtle and intellectually driven, the website shows how cartoons now circulate widely online, often reaching readers who may never have picked up the print edition. Despite this shift, the editorial standards remain unchanged; every cartoon and caption is still meticulously reviewed, preserving the magazine’s distinct voice.
The exhibition also emphasizes The New Yorker’s enduring relationship with its staff and audience. Letters to the editor, annotated drafts, and reader responses reveal a publication deeply invested in dialogue rather than one-way reporting. This exchange between writers, editors, and readers underscores the magazine’s belief that journalism is a collaborative cultural practice. By fostering thoughtful engagement across generations, The New Yorker has cultivated a readership that values reflection, nuance, and intellectual curiosity, qualities that continue to define its influence today.
Ultimately, A Century of The New Yorker makes clear that the magazine’s longevity stems from its willingness to evolve without abandoning its core values. The website serves as a modern extension of the exhibition itself, archiving past work while continuously publishing new material that responds to the present moment. By combining rigorous journalism, literary excellence, and sharp wit across both print and digital platforms, The New Yorker continues to prove that a century-old publication can remain culturally vital, relevant, and influential in an ever-changing media landscape. Taken as a whole, the exhibition reveals many of The New Yorker’s unique characteristics, uniting tradition and innovation cultivated over the course of a century.
Ultimately, A Century of The New Yorker makes clear that the magazine’s longevity stems from its willingness to evolve without abandoning its core values. The website serves as a modern extension of the exhibition itself, archiving past work while continuously publishing new material that responds to the present moment. By combining rigorous journalism, literary excellence, and sharp wit across both print and digital platforms, The New Yorker continues to prove that a century-old publication can remain culturally vital, relevant, and influential in an ever-changing media landscape. Taken as a whole, the exhibition reveals many of The New Yorker’s unique characteristics, uniting tradition and innovation cultivated over the course of a century.