The Tamesis
Donald and his brother Si are the heart and soul of Condé Nast. They share many passions but differ in spirit: Si is retired and thoughtful, Donald shines outward. You reveled in Donald’s company, his energy and humor, and he was the person you wanted to see when you were feeling doubtful or weak. He was very careful not to interfere with the editorial side of his business (the newspaper arm of Condé Nast parent company Advance Publications), but if you asked him for advice, he always had smart, sage advice.
Donald naturally has a passion for service: service to the industry and the company, but even more so to the people who work at Advance. I don’t remember what he ever asked me, but he often asked me if I needed his help. He was both humble and strong, with a willingness to step aside and always ask for help, which is rare in leadership. That’s why so many people love working at Newhouse. Donald infused Advance with spirit, ambition, trust and a genuine care for people. He made it an exciting place to be.
It was clear to all of us that Donald’s career, while seemingly generous and outgoing, was sustained by an incredible marriage. He and Susie married when he was twenty-six—she was a college graduate at nineteen—and their affair lasted sixty years. I remember after Donald passed away from frontotemporal degeneration in 2015, he moved to the farm. The house was filled with pictures of her and he designed a garden for her. Their children were always the center of his world. In the years after Susie’s death, Donald joined the Association for Frontotemporal Lobar Degeneration and arranged for stars such as Alex Newell and Joshua Henry to sing “If You Knew Susie” at its annual Hope Rising charity event. When the song began, Donald—in his eighties, then nineties—always stood and danced. It was a way of welcoming the world into the family he loved. This is his way.
Donald never showed any sign of being fussy or pretentious, and he loved the outdoors: he loved walking, fishing, and working outside. Whenever I visited, he insisted on taking me for a spin in his convertible Morgan convertible. He didn’t need any excuse to get his hopes up. “I hope you save my 100th birthday on your calendar,” he liked to tell me. I think so too. Whenever I think about him, I think about my luck. When Si was ill and nearing the end of his life, Donald would visit him. He would sit next to his brother and just hold his hand. This is what Donald symbolizes to me: someone who provides warmth, strength, and support when you need him. It’s heartbreaking that he can’t be here to lead me – all of us – through this loss.
