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THE BARON QUESTION

Not long after he took the helm, Baron convened a big staff meeting that provided real insight into his philosophy. Making it clear that he saw the paper as a bit sloppy and loose, he talked about better editing, better communication, better deadlines, better reporting, and better performance accountability. What he didn’t do, really, was lay out a broad or energizing vision of Globe journalism.

After Baron’s four and a half years as the unquestioned power in the Globe corner office, the paper is very much a reflection of his priorities and personality.

The editor who once declared his goal was to "not be beaten by our competitors on any story of note," is what one observer calls "a born newsman." He is widely viewed as demanding and detail-oriented, someone who has focused strongly on standards, sourcing, hard news, and making the Globe a more tightly edited paper. Known for putting in long hours, Baron is not above micromanaging, sometimes batting off an e-mail to a staffer over the use of a single word or phrase in a story.

"Every newsroom is gonna have lapses and we have to make sure that we minimize them," he says. "Most of them are unnecessary. "

Baron, 51, can be engaging, particularly one-on-one. But he is not a motivating, backslapping Winship type, nor does he conjure up the more transparent and volatile style of Storin, his predecessor. Often less liberal with praise than criticism, he can be a daunting and intimidating boss. The description of him as not "warm and fuzzy" is so ubiquitous that the bearded editor has his own punch line: "Well, I am fuzzy."

"I am what I am," he continues. "I think I’m a reasonably decent person, but as the editor of the paper, I also have to uphold standards.... My mission is not to be everybody’s best friend. My mission is to do my part to make a better newspaper and sometimes that involves not being warm and fuzzy."

The holes in Baron’s management technique are magnified by veteran executive editor Helen Donovan’s introverted, chilly style. The larger-than-life presence of the late David Nyhan — a pillar of the hearty, freewheeling old Globe who left in 2001 — is sorely missed. And several of the bigger management personalities also departed in recent years, including Greg Moore, now editor of the Denver Post, Bradlee, who made an unsuccessful bid to become Globe managing editor and is now writing a book on Ted Williams, and former Business-section editor Peter Mancusi, now a senior-vice president at Weber Shandwick. (Since Mancusi left, no one is practicing golf swings during those late-evening deadline hours.)

With the Globe newsroom quieter, less colorful, and less collegial in recent years, a new term has been coined to describe the paper’s gestalt: "the joyless pursuit of excellence."

Baron’s most noteworthy accomplishment occurred shortly after his arrival, when he helped steer the Globe toward the 2003 Public Service Pulitzer for its relentless coverage of the clergy sex-abuse scandal. In 2005, the paper grabbed a Pulitzer in Explanatory Reporting for Gareth Cook’s coverage of stem-cell research.

"I think this newsroom has done extraordinary things," Baron says. "I think we did well on 9/11.... We did extraordinarily well on the Catholic Church in terms of the abuse scandal. On the parish closings I think we’ve done exceptionally well. I think we did really well on our coverage of the Big Dig in exposing the whole leaks mess.... We’ve done well in our coverage of science and medicine."

But analysts both inside and outside complain that the paper now often lacks personality and unpredictability. There are too many days, it seems, when page one is led by stories such as the Turnpike Authority’s decision to charge drivers $24.61 a year for toll transponders or the problem of unused flu shots. Too many days when you get a digest of the news, but not the "Hey, Martha!" story that sticks in your gizzard.

"It’s just not compelling," says one long-time Boston-media player. "From my perspective, it lacks meaningful enterprise reporting. You don’t pick it up and talk about the story the next day."

"I think for a while Baron had some momentum there," says a former Boston Herald editor. "They got used to his personal style. Things did tighten up and they got a little sharper.... My gut is that has petered out. The newsroom is pretty flat. It seems dull to me."

Or as one veteran Globe staffer succinctly puts it: "The paper doesn’t have a twinkle in its eye."

Baron counters by citing everything from the remaking of the Sunday magazine to Patriot and Red Sox coverage to the scrutiny of John Kerry’s presidential campaign. "There has been a lot of sizzle," he says. "And if people ... have suggestions on how to introduce more," he adds, "bring ’em on."

Globe sources give Baron varying grades for his handling of the current buyout situation. He is credited for being direct and candid in numerous meetings with staffers, and he is lauded for his sharp focus and problem-solving instincts in redeploying newsroom forces in the wake of the cuts. But the current crisis has also raised new doubts about his willingness and ability to sketch out a vision for the Globe and to rally disheartened journalists to feel good about their workplace and their future.

Baron’s biggest shortcoming, says one staffer bluntly, is his "inability to energize the place."

When he talks about the difficult conditions facing his industry, Baron can deliver an impressive, impassioned, and upbeat assessment. "I think we’re a far more resilient industry than people give us credit for," he says. "It survived radio, it survived television, it survived cable, it survived the first wave of the Internet. Now, we’re on the second wave of the Internet, which is more challenging than the first wave of the Internet.... The industry still makes money, the industry still has resources to reinvest ... and organizations like the Globe are critical to communities like Boston and Greater Boston. There is no one out there who does what we do. I don’t believe there is a natural substitute for us."

An anxious newsroom needs to hear that message — clearly and repeatedly. But when asked about providing more morale-building leadership, Baron responds without noticeable enthusiasm.

"I’ve met with a lot of people [and had] a lot of conversations now about what the future is going to bring," he says. "It is part of the job. Clearly, it’s part of the job. You do that the best you can.... It’s not an easy part of the job" in an environment where "every day, several times a day, another report is coming about problems in our industry."

"As for newsroom morale, I’ve been at it for 30 years," he says. "It swings up and it swings down. If it’s down now, it’ll swing back up again."

Maybe. But any failure now to deal with the Globe’s wounded psyche and self-doubt carries peril — largely because of the perception that the Globe is in danger of becoming just another newspaper caught in a cycle of cuts and retreats ordered by an absentee owner.

Nick King, a 32-year Globe veteran who has edited everything from the Living section to the Sunday magazine, sees his buyout as a "terrific opportunity." But when speaking of the paper where he spent much of his adult life, he adds a poignant postscript.

"It hurts to see what’s happening and I didn’t want to stick around and see this place dismantled," King says, "having been here in the heyday."

Mark Jurkowitz, who started his journalism career at the Tab newspapers and worked at the Phoenix from 1987 to 1994 as media critic and news editor, was on the Globe staff as ombudsman and then media writer from 1995 to 2005. In July 2005, he returned to the Phoenix.