Ken Del Rossi

I GAVE A PRESENTATION recently to a group of alumni volunteers—folks who have devoted hundreds of hours to help the University in various ways—on the topic of story selection. I didn’t need much time to prepare.

Outside of my family and, occasionally, my Little League team of third graders, there is nothing I spend more time thinking about than what goes into this magazine. In a universe as rich and varied as Stanford’s, choosing what to write about is the toughest and most important part of the job.

If we wished, I told the volunteers, we could publish nothing but profiles of high-achieving alumni, many of whom are household names. If we wished, we could print 50 pages about innovations coming out of Stanford laboratories and institutes—knowledge and research that may change the world. If we wished, we could run an entire magazine devoted to Stanford history and traditions. Heck, if we were so inclined, we could make the magazine all about the many competitive challenges Stanford faces as a world-class center of learning in the early 21st century. All of those approaches could produce an interesting, provocative and well-read publication. But none of them would thoroughly depict Stanford.

Stanford is not about one thing. Our job is to assemble a mix of stories that authentically and effectively conveys the breadth and depth of the Farm and its many constituencies. And that’s where the going gets tough.

This issue offers a microcosm of the challenge. We typically select four major stories to compose the 30 or so pages in the middle of the magazine that we privilege as “features.” This is precious real estate, and choosing unwisely here can drag down the entire magazine. The process is analogous to building a stock portfolio. We want diversification—research, student life, profiles, current affairs, University news, Stanford history. And while we want our share of blue-chip sure bets, we also take calculated risks now and then. The trick is to know which is which.

So we ask ourselves a lot of questions. Will our story on nanotechnology attract scientists and repel all others? No, not if it’s well told.

How many readers will care about students with disabilities? Plenty.

Why devote six pages to a track meet that was held 40-plus years ago?

Because of its extraordinary—and mostly unreported—place in Stanford history, and the legacy of the revered coach who organized it, Payton Jordan.

And of all the Stanford alumni we could profile in these pages, why choose Raymond Cross, a little-known lawyer from Montana? Read his story, and you’ll have your answer.

The story collection you find in the features and elsewhere in the magazine is the result of many hours of consultation, discussion, argument and counterargument. There is no handbook, no guaranteed formula. How did we do this time? You’re the judge, not us.

Pull up a seat, and have a look at the menu.