Every year around this time I receive a letter from The New Yorker subscription department informing me that my subscription is to be automatically renewed in the fall.
And every year that letter is signed by Michael Spencer.
Michael has no job title listed. He’s not “Director of Circulation” or “Subscriptions Manager” or “Customer Service Agent.”
He’s just Michael Spencer, The New Yorker:

I am a longtime and contented subscriber to the magazine. Reading it every week is one of the central activities of my life.
So I’ve no grudge with Mr. Spencer.
Other than wondering whether or not he exists.
There’s always been something vaguely suspicious about the generic nature of his name (like the G. Raymond that TD Visa uses in its marketing).
And about his lack of job title.
And about the fact that he maintains the same role, signing these letters, year after year after year. Why is he never promoted?
His name even appears in materials released by WikiLeaks under the The Global Intelligence Files project. That’s surely suspicious.
Others have wondered about this before. They’ve been irate, however, whereas I’m simply curious.
Like those others, my first impulse was to call Mr. Spencer at the number on the renewal form.
After wading through a robotic telephone tree, I provided my subscription information to an agent and asked to talk to Michael Spencer.
“In what department?”, the agent asked.
“He signed my subscription renewal letter,” I replied, “and I’d just like to talk to him about the design of it.” (Which was true – the bit at the top about October appears to conflict with the bit in the middle about September).
“Alright,” came the reply, “I’ll have to put you on hold.”
After about 7 minutes on hold I was transferred to “her supervisor” who asked me for Mr. Spencer’s extension number. I replied that I didn’t have his extension number, as it wasn’t listed on the letter. She asked me what department he works in. I didn’t have this either, obviously.
“We’re a very large corporation, Sir,” came the reply, “and I cannot transfer you without an extension. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I just wanted to provide Mr. Spencer with some feedback on the subscription renewal notice,” I told her.
“I could pass that along to our publisher,” she replied.
“Perhaps I could just call the magazine directly,” I suggested.
“You are calling the magazine,” she answered.
At this point I rang off, as it was clear that Mr. Spencer was not there.
So I’ve no recourse but to send Mr. Spencer a letter. I will let you know his reply.
I am
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He's in a wikileak. https:/
He's in a wikileak. https://wikileaks.org/gifiles/docs/38/38709_fwd-fwd-final-issue-alert-.html
Did you ever get a reply? I
Did you ever get a reply? I believe he used to exist -- my mother had ongoing correspondence with him many years ago. Or maybe it was someone on staff who wrote her under his name? Curiouser and curiouser.
On March 27th I received a…
On March 27th I received a letter from The New Yorker with "reinstatement form enclosed" on the envelope. This was the first notice I received that my subscription to the magazine had expired on March 26th. Although they have my email address, I did not receive an email notice. I did not receive anything in the snail mail. There was no notice in the March 26th issue that this was the last issue I would receive.
When I renewed my subscription I was told it would be two to four weeks before I resume getting magazines again. I think this happened the last time my subscription expired. I wish they would put something on the address label to indicate that it is the last issue.
I don't understand why I need a URL to preview my message. I don't have a URL anyway.
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