URL: http://www.nytimes.com SUBJECT

1082 of 1231 DOCUMENTS

The New York Times
February 11, 2008 Monday

Late Edition - Final

Yahoo Bidder Wants a More Aggressive Microsoft
BYLINE: By ANDREW ROSS SORKIN.

Steve Lohr contributed reporting.

SECTION: Section C; Column 0; Business/Financial Desk; Pg. 1
LENGTH: 927 words
When Yahoo sends its letter rejecting Microsoft's $44.6 billion on Monday, it will end up in the inbox of a largely unknown executive on Microsoft's sprawling campus, Christopher P. Liddell.

Mr. Liddell, a former banker from New Zealand, is the behind-the-scenes architect of Microsoft's hostile takeover, the company's first unsolicited bid and perhaps the most audacious attempt by a technology company to wrestle control of a competitor.

With Yahoo's board rejecting Microsoft's advances, it will fall to Mr. Liddell, an outsider to the software industry who joined Microsoft as its chief financial officer just two years ago, to plot the company's next steps in this bitter battle -- and in the process, reshape Microsoft's not-invented-here culture toward making aggressive acquisitions.

''You have to be disciplined and ruthless,'' Mr. Liddell said by telephone last week, before Yahoo's board decided to rebuff the offer. ''We should see acquisitions as a way of growth. We should not be embarrassed at all.''

Microsoft has made acquisitions over the years, but mainly smaller ones to jumpstart a fledgling business or pick up a needed technology. Its media player, voice recognition, health search and business software, among others, are technologies Microsoft bought along with the companies that created them.

However, when it has come to making big deals, it has balked until recently. In late 2003, Microsoft talked to the big German business software maker SAP about buying it. The deal, had it been pursued, would have cost Microsoft more than $50 billion.

The talks, made public in a court case in 2004, were abandoned, Microsoft said, because of the ''complexity of the potential transaction,'' especially the management headaches of trying to put the two big software companies together.

Mr. Liddell, who calls himself Microsoft's ''gatekeeper of funding,'' spent the weekend devising ways to raise the stakes in the fight for Yahoo now that the company's original proposal has been rejected, holding a series of marathon conference calls with his cadre of Wall Street advisers.

More an accountant than a technologist, Mr. Liddell, who joined Microsoft after serving as chief financial officer at International Paper, the giant forest products company, clearly has no compunction about ruffling any digital feathers. Among his alternatives is a series of bare-knuckle Wall Street tactics: First, Microsoft is planning to crisscross the nation to meet with Yahoo's largest shareholders in an election-style campaign, hoping they can put pressure on Yahoo's board, people briefed on the company's plans said.

Microsoft may have an easier time than it could have had two weeks ago: since then, millions of Yahoo's shares have traded hands to short-term-oriented hedge funds that typically favor a quick sale, as opposed to value investors who hold shares for the long term.

Microsoft could also decide to make an offer directly to shareholders, called a tender offer, which would put more pressure on Yahoo's board to negotiate. At the same time, Microsoft could also set a deadline for its bid, known as an ''exploding offer.''

And if Microsoft decides to make this a nasty battle, it could start a proxy contest to oust Yahoo's board at its next election; it would have until March 13 to nominate a new slate of directors.

Microsoft's advisers in the takeover attempt are Morgan Stanley and the Blackstone Group. Its lawyers are Simpson Thacher & Bartlett and Cadwalader Wickersham & Taft.

They are facing Yahoo's team of bankers at Goldman Sachs, Lehman Brothers and Moelis & Company, and its lawyers at Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher & Flom.

Microsoft also hired outside public relations advisers, Joele Frank, Wilkinson Brimmer Katcher and Waggener Edstrom Worldwide. Yahoo has Abernathy-McGregor and Robinson, Lehrer, Montgomery.

Microsoft may simply raise its offer to clinch a deal. Analysts have suggested the company could afford to pay as much as $35 a share for Yahoo, up from its current offer of $31.

But Mr. Liddell, speaking generally about negotiations, seemed to suggest he was willing to play hardball. ''You have to be willing to walk away,'' said Mr. Liddell, who plays rugby regularly and has completed several triathlons.

For Mr. Liddell, who sends e-mail messages to colleagues at all hours and is a PowerPoint whiz, the prospect of joining Microsoft as an outsider and trying to transform it into a financially oriented acquisition machine was daunting. ''I knew there had been a history of people coming in here and it not working,'' he said.

Mr. Liddell was one of several high-profile outside hires at Microsoft in recent years including Ray Ozzie, the creator of Lotus Notes, as the company's chief software architect; and B. Kevin Turner, a former Wal-Mart executive, as chief operating officer.

Mr. Liddell, who has a master's degree in philosophy from Oxford, found that with Bill Gates and the president, Steven A. Ballmer, ''If you do a good job, you fit in. They don't suffer people very well who don't come prepared.''

He has a background as an investment banker at Credit Suisse First Boston in Auckland. Since he joined the company, Microsoft has made 50 acquisitions.

He has pushed the company to use its cash -- it has spent $54 billion on stock buybacks and dividends since his arrival. And it has even taken on, dare it be said aloud at Microsoft, debt for the first time in the company's history. If the company's bid for Yahoo is successful, Microsoft will be doing both.

URL: http://www.nytimes.com
SUBJECT: TAKEOVERS (90%); SOFTWARE MAKERS (89%); TALKS & MEETINGS (89%); ENTREPRENEURSHIP (76%); COMPANY STRATEGY (76%); VOICE RECOGNITION (71%); SHAREHOLDERS (71%); BUSINESS SOFTWARE (65%); HEDGE FUNDS (50%); CONSUMER ELECTRONICS (75%); COMPUTER SOFTWARE (89%)
COMPANY: SAP AG (84%); MICROSOFT CORP (90%); INTERNATIONAL PAPER LAURENT (51%); YAHOO INC (95%)
TICKER: SAP (NYSE) (84%); SAP (LSE) (91%); SAP (FRA) (84%); MSFT (NASDAQ) (90%); YHOO (NASDAQ) (95%); YAH (LSE) (92%)
INDUSTRY: NAICS511210 SOFTWARE PUBLISHERS (91%); SIC7372 PREPACKAGED SOFTWARE (91%); NAICS541512 COMPUTER SYSTEMS DESIGN SERVICES (91%); NAICS541511 CUSTOM COMPUTER PROGRAMMING SERVICES (91%); SIC7379 COMPUTER RELATED SERVICES, NEC (91%); SIC7371 COMPUTER PROGRAMMING SERVICES (91%); NAICS518112 WEB SEARCH PORTALS (95%); NAICS518111 INTERNET SERVICE PROVIDERS (95%); SIC7375 INFORMATION RETRIEVAL SERVICES (95%); SIC7373 COMPUTER INTEGRATED SYSTEMS DESIGN (95%); NAICS519130 INTERNET PUBLISHING & BROADCASTING & WEB SEARCH PORTALS (95%); NAICS517110 WIRED TELECOMMUNICATIONS CARRIERS (95%)
GEOGRAPHIC: NEW ZEALAND (90%)
LOAD-DATE: February 11, 2008
LANGUAGE: ENGLISH
PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper

Copyright 2008 The New York Times Company

1083 of 1231 DOCUMENTS

The New York Times
February 10, 2008 Sunday

Late Edition - Final

For Your Pet, A Policy All Its Own
BYLINE: By JULIE BICK.

Fresh Starts is a monthly column about emerging jobs and job trends.

SECTION: Section BU; Column 0; Money and Business/Financial Desk; FRESH STARTS; Pg. 21
LENGTH: 857 words
SERIOUS illness can take a financial toll on families without health insurance -- even when the patient is the family pet.

''My bulldog has been treated for skin infections, paw problems and now she's on antibiotics for a cold,'' said Kelly Fennelly, a personal trainer in Kirkland, Wash., who spends about $350 a year on veterinary care. Now she is planning to buy pet health insurance, in case her dog, Maggie, becomes really sick or is hurt in an accident.

Enter the pet insurance sales agent, who tries to find a health policy that fits an animal's -- and its owner's -- needs.

The specialty is small: there are less than 600,000 insured pets. That is less than 1 percent of the more than 160 million cats and dogs in the United States, according to Chris Ashton, who recently studied the market on his way to starting Petplan USA, a pet insurance company based in Philadelphia.

Fewer than 20 companies now sell pet insurance in the United States, he said, and there are fewer than 500 pet insurance agents. Mr. Ashton's venture has only 11 employees, but he plans to expand to 100 in the next three years.

The field has been small because products have been too restrictive, too expensive or have not met consumers' needs, according to John Volk, who studies pet-related spending for Brakke Consulting of Dallas. He said that many people ''have never heard of pet health insurance.''

But that is likely to change. ''The industry is poised for rapid growth,'' Mr. Volk said. Veterinary technology is becoming more advanced, more available and more expensive, he said, leading to a greater need for insurance, especially in emergencies. At the same time, many pets are being treated more like members of the family.

A typical pet insurance policy costs $300 a year, but can vary based on the age of the pet, species, level of coverage and other factors.

Both large companies and smaller start-ups are beginning to experiment with different offerings to customers, according to Mr. Volk. For example, Trupanion, based in Seattle, sells lifetime pet health insurance only for puppies and kittens, so pre-existing conditions are not a factor. The company plans to increase the number of employees who can sell insurance policies to 110 from 22 over the next three years. Nestle Purina began offering pet health insurance in Canada last summer, and plans to enter the United States market this spring.

Veterinary Pet Insurance, based in Brea, Calif., is the largest company in the business, with 400 employees and $150 million in sales of insurance premiums each year.

Like other types of insurance, pet health insurance is state-regulated, and only licensed agents can sell policies. Licensing requirements vary among states, and employers typically pay for training. National companies serving customers via the Web have agents who are licensed in all 50 states.

Insurers look for various qualities in a potential sales agent. Lorin Young, vice president for sales and marketing at Veterinary Pet Insurance, says he seeks employees who can communicate clearly and build rapport over the phone.

At Trupanion, the same agents who write the policies also process the claims, so they are expected to have two to five years of experience in a veterinary clinic, along with some animal health training. ''They need to talk to policyholders about their pet's medical conditions and understand doctors' reports,'' said Darryl Rawlings, Trupanion's founder and chief executive.

Kevin Patcheak, a salesman for Veterinary Pet Insurance, says he likes providing help when people call seeking a way to avoid the big medical costs that can occur over the lifetime of their pets.

On the other hand, he said, ''the hardest part of the job is when someone calls and the pet already has an illness or a broken leg, and they want help paying the bill.'' As with many insurance policies, pre-existing conditions are not covered by pet health insurance.

Pet insurance sales agents make $30,000 to $100,000 a year, according to company representatives. Pay is a mix of base salary and commission, depending on the employer. ''I was surprised, but you can actually support a family on the salary,'' said Mr. Patcheak, who has a master's degree in education.

Potential customers have usually done some research on the Web, or received a recommendation or brochure from their veterinarian, and are calling for more information. Pet insurance agents typically work in these call centers.

THERE are other options for those who are interested in the business. Field representatives visit trade shows, conferences, veterinary offices and pet stores to raise awareness of product offerings.

Adam Cooney, 22, joined Petplan USA to become a pet insurance agent last year when he graduated from the Wharton School's undergraduate business program at the University of Pennsylvania. He said he chose the job in order to join an entrepreneurial company in a growing industry.

''We just came back from a convention and there was so much energy and growth,'' he said. ''You don't always have to go to Wall Street to find an exciting job.''

URL: http://www.nytimes.com
SUBJECT: PETS (91%); HEALTH INSURANCE (90%); FAMILY (90%); SPECIALTY LINES INSURANCE (90%); INSURANCE (90%); INSURANCE POLICIES (89%); CATS (89%); INSURANCE AGENCIES & BROKERAGES (89%); DOGS (89%); INSURANCE COVERAGE (78%); PET FOODS (78%); VETERINARY DRUGS (77%); SALES FORCE (75%); INSURANCE PREMIUMS (73%); EXERCISE & FITNESS (73%); ANTIBIOTICS (72%); FOOD INDUSTRY (70%); LICENSES & PERMITS (60%); SKIN DISORDERS (58%)
COMPANY: VETERINARY PET INSURANCE CO (51%); NESTLE SA (51%)
TICKER: NSTR (LSE) (51%); NESN (SWX) (51%)
INDUSTRY: NAICS312112 BOTTLED WATER MANUFACTURING (51%); NAICS311920 COFFEE AND TEA MANUFACTURING (51%); NAICS311514 DRY, CONDENSED, AND EVAPORATED DAIRY PRODUCT MANUFACTURING (51%); SIC2095 ROASTED COFFEE (51%); SIC2086 BOTTLED & CANNED SOFT DRINKS & CARBONATED WATER (51%); SIC2023 DRY CONDENSED & EVAPORATED DAIRY PRODUCTS (51%); NAICS311920 COFFEE & TEA MANUFACTURING (51%); NAICS311514 DRY, CONDENSED & EVAPORATED DAIRY PRODUCT MANUFACTURING (51%); NAICS311320 CHOCOLATE & CONFECTIONERY MANUFACTURING FROM CACAO BEANS (51%)
GEOGRAPHIC: SEATTLE, WA, USA (79%) WASHINGTON, USA (93%); PENNSYLVANIA, USA (92%); CALIFORNIA, USA (79%) UNITED STATES (94%); CANADA (79%)
LOAD-DATE: February 10, 2008
LANGUAGE: ENGLISH
GRAPHIC: PHOTO: Adam Cooney sells pet health insurance in Philadelphia. (PHOTOGRAPH BY MIKE MERGEN FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES)
PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper

Copyright 2008 The New York Times Company

1084 of 1231 DOCUMENTS

The New York Times
February 10, 2008 Sunday

Late Edition - Final

Negative Campaign
BYLINE: By ROB WALKER
SECTION: Section 6; Column 0; Magazine; CONSUMED; Pg. 26
LENGTH: 746 words
'Bush's Last Day' memorabilia

Remember George W. Bush? Given all the excitement generated by heated contests for both the Democratic and Republican presidential nominations, it's easy to forget that the current resident of the White House will not be moving out for nearly a year. Then again, maybe you know precisely when that particular change occurs, since the date -- Jan. 20, 2009 -- has found its way onto a variety of buttons, bumper stickers, T-shirts and even golf balls and hot sauce. In fact, the rendering of that date as 1.20.09 was trademarked by a small company that sold more than $1 million worth of ''Bush's Last Day'' merchandise in 2007.

Not surprisingly, perhaps, the company is based in Vermont. Its founder, Elliott Nachwalter, is an artisan who sells handmade pipes (fashioned from ''the rarest of plateaux briar burls from the hillsides of Greece and Italy''). Or at least that's what he was doing in 2005, when he designed and handed out buttons adorned with the Bush era's expiration date. The feedback was so enthusiastic, he says, that he decided to order a larger batch of buttons -- from a unionized factory in New Jersey, he notes -- and sell them. This was followed by bumper stickers and hats and the like. In addition to selling the items at bushslastday.com, he took a selection to the New York Gift Show -- a trade show -- and started the process of building a network of more than 100 retailers. His BLD Designs added more and more products, and sales momentum is still gathering. ''We haven't hit the crest yet,'' Nachwalter says. He now has six employees (some part time). The pipe-crafting is on hold.

Given that the president's approval ratings have been no higher than the 30s for about a year now, Nachwalter's product line has broad potential appeal. But there's no question that he's coming from a very specific political point of view, suggested by the prominent use of peace symbols in his designs, as well as a list of ''groups we support'' on the BLD Designs site that includes Greenpeace and MoveOn.org. Celebrities spotted in the company's T-shirts include Rosie O'Donnell and William Baldwin. On the other hand, in addition to the picture of a VW with a 1.20.09 sticker on the Web site, there's a photo of a military vehicle sporting one, apparently sent in by a soldier in Iraq.

Nachwalter has received some hate mail, but laughs it off on account of poor spelling. Some friends and family members who weren't too excited about his project when he was simply an artisan-activist handing out anti-Bush pins have come around. ''Once it turned into a successful business, then it was O.K.,'' he says. He has proved to be fairly innovative in dreaming up new ways to meet demand for anti-Bush products. Bush Biskits -- the ''natural dog treats'' made in the U.S.A. that ''every liberal dog in the country has been drooling for,'' a promotion says -- have taken on a life of their own, with a separate Web site and pet-store distribution. (A box of 24 Bush-shaped biscuits costs $46.80.) Another option: desk clocks that show both the current time and a preset countdown feature so you can track how many days, hours and minutes are left in the Bush presidency. These are also available as key chains.

The obvious problem with a business tied to a specific event is that on Jan. 21, 2009, Nachwalter's entire stock becomes . . . dated. He does not sound concerned. Maybe it's an advantage for the peddler of novelty goods to know in advance when the novelty will evaporate. But now that he has learned the ropes of trade shows and retail, it doesn't sound as if he'll be making pipes again anytime soon: He says he has another entrepreneurial idea in the works (''not political'' is pretty much all he'll say about it).

And in the meantime, he's counting on the Bush administration concluding in a wave of celebratory parties, which should let his business go out with a bang.

Lately, BLD has started to sell merchandise that isn't simply anti-Bush, but pro-Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. So far, sales of these more upbeat items lag well behind the cranky 1.20.09 merch. But that makes sense, given that competitive primaries and elections in general tend to be divisive affairs. Maybe it's only a politician leaving office at a deeply pessimistic moment who can truly bring together all kinds of Americans in a coalition of shared disillusion, expressed through shopping -- and become, however belatedly, a uniter.

URL: http://www.nytimes.com
SUBJECT: US REPUBLICAN PARTY (90%); RETAILERS (74%); LABOR UNIONS (65%); WEB SITES (60%)
PERSON: GEORGE W BUSH (92%)
GEOGRAPHIC: NEW JERSEY, USA (79%); VERMONT, USA (79%) UNITED STATES (79%); IRAQ (77%)
LOAD-DATE: February 10, 2008
LANGUAGE: ENGLISH
GRAPHIC: DRAWING (DRAWING BY PETER ARKLE)
PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper

Copyright 2008 The New York Times Company

1085 of 1231 DOCUMENTS

The New York Times
February 10, 2008 Sunday

Late Edition - Final

Brothers In Arms
BYLINE: By ADAM B. ELLICK; Jigar Mehta contributed reporting.
SECTION: Section CY; Column 0; The City Weekly Desk; Pg. 8
LENGTH: 2396 words
Mahammed Farooqi, a 49-year-old Pakistani news addict, was snoring through the story of his generation.

It was 8 a.m. on Dec. 27, and Benazir Bhutto, Pakistan's opposition leader, had just been assassinated as her motorcade inched through a dense crowd in her homeland.

Under ordinary circumstances, Mr. Farooqi would have been the first to know about such a politically transforming event. Every night, while his wife is sleeping peacefully in the bedroom, he dozes on the sofa in the living room of his house in Dix Hills on Long Island, with the television set on.

On this historic Thursday, however, neither the television nor the incessant callers from around the world managed to wake him. The previous day, Mr. Farooqi, the editor and publisher of The Pakistan Post, a free, Queens-based newspaper that reveres Ms. Bhutto, had completed his weekly 34-hour sprint to churn out his 20-page issue.

Among the more persistent callers was Khalil ur Rehman, a journalist who is Mr. Farooqi's counterpart on the other side of the political fence.

Mr. Khalil, a stout, bearded 55-year-old who lives in Shirley, Long Island, is the editor of The Urdu Times, the city's other top Pakistani weekly. His publication fervently supports President Pervez Musharraf, the former general who had been Ms. Bhutto's chief rival since 2002 and who was immediately accused by some members of her party of orchestrating her assassination. He has denied the charge.

Predictably, the two editors reacted to the killing in totally opposite fashion.

''I told him Pakistan isn't dying,'' Mr. Khalil said. ''This thing will be good for Pakistan.''

But in the opinion of Mr. Farooqi, the killing extinguished hope for democracy in the country from which they both emigrated decades ago. ''He's a fascist,'' Mr. Farooqi said of his counterpart. ''He was happy. He said life goes on.''

The contrast between these two men transcends politics and publishing.

Mr. Farooqi is a disheveled, chain-smoking Muslim who boasts of his journalistic exclusives. Mr. Khalil is a dapper, entrepreneurial atheist who enjoys his whiskey and boasts about the lucrative advertisements he garners for his publication.

While their Urdu-language pages exploit the divided political loyalties within New York's 400,000-member-strong Pakistani community, these two editors are physically divided only by the wall between the unmarked storefronts in which they work, on Hillside Avenue in the Pakistani enclave in Jamaica, Queens.

With parliamentary elections in Pakistan scheduled for Feb. 18, these neighboring storefronts offer a window into Pakistan's embattled politics. Yet in a nation haunted by 60 years of political turmoil, the situation is never as it appears. Nor is the 17-year relationship between these men, who, despite their differing styles and ideologies, were business partners and are now best friends.

Shudders and a Shrug

The morning after Ms. Bhutto's killing, in the second-floor newsroom of The Pakistan Post, Mr. Farooqi stared blankly at satellite television coverage showing Ms. Bhutto's coffin bobbing atop a protesting crowd.

''I'm a psych patient today,'' he said, lighting a cigarette. ''I'm talking, I'm walking, I'm driving, but I have no will to do anything.''

A year ago, on one of Ms. Bhutto's final visits to New York, Mr. Farooqi had urged her to return home from exile. ''I said to her: 'You keep saying Pakistani people should speak out against the regime. Why should they when you're in New York with a big car, a driver and kids in Dubai? You have to face the problem.' '' Now he feels guilt-stricken.

Next door, in the basement newsroom of The Urdu Times, a very different mood prevailed. There was no television; instead, Mr. Khalil bent over a computer screen and proudly pointed out his newspaper's 14 online editions, which are published in the United States, Canada and Britain.

''He talks too much about -- what do you call it? -- democracy,'' Mr. Khalil said of his rival editor. ''He's confused. Bhutto became the prime minister twice, and both terms she wasn't able to resolve the problems.''

New Lives, Two Newspapers

Mr. Farooqi has two addictions: cigarettes and journalism. He fixates on both each night, waking up on the hour to smoke -- burn marks line his fingers -- or to telephone sources in Pakistan in pursuit of his next exclusive.

''My only skill is journalism,'' he said a few days after Ms. Bhutto's death, taking a break from drafting an editorial. ''I can't do anything else, can't fix a car. My children always say, 'Turn off the phone.' But you know, it's an addiction. To educate people on what is going on, this is my love, this is my passion, this is my romance, this is what I believe my body desires. It's my peanut and butter.''

Born in a lower-middle-class family in Karachi, Mr. Farooqi began his journalism career in Pakistan in the early 1980s, and in 1986 covered Ms. Bhutto's initial return from exile. It would be his first of dozens of interviews with her; two decades later, in Washington, Ms. Bhutto would preside over the official debut of the English-language edition of his newspaper.

But in 1986, with the political situation in Pakistan worsening, the 28-year-old idealist immigrated to Queens. On his second day in Jamaica, he took a job at a grocery store, where for three years he earned $1 an hour dusting magazines. Later he drove a taxi.

During those years, Mr. Farooqi started two monthly newspapers. The first folded after one issue. The second lasted 10 issues. His big break came in 1991, when he met Mr. Khalil.

Mr. Khalil was raised in an upper-middle-class publishing family in Islamabad. His parents, who were traditional, disapproved of his marrying, claiming he was too young, but he married anyway, and in 1977, at age 24, he moved to Jamaica in search of personal and religious liberation.

He found it. ''My five children have never set foot in a mosque,'' he said proudly, as if describing a straight-A report card.

Like Mr. Farooqi, Mr. Khalil spent several years working in menial jobs as a grocery store clerk and a deliveryman, but by 1981 he was running a pair of carpet stores. In an expression of his interest in social change, he also became active in the city's then burgeoning Pakistani community.

In 1982, when an Indian immigrant began publishing an anti-Pakistani newspaper, Mr. Khalil was so perturbed that he barged into the man's office and begged him to stop writing negatively about his homeland. The publisher dared Mr. Khalil to knock him out of business.

An hour later, Mr. Khalil was planning his first newspaper, The Eastern Times. The paper eventually folded, but a few years later, now back on his feet financially, Mr. Khalil was offered a chance to take over a Pakistani newspaper, The Urdu Times.

Mr. Khalil jumped at the offer. In 1991, he moved the paper's office from Manhattan to Jamaica and promptly hired a down-and-out as his editor. That man was Mr. Farooqi.

A Rift, Then a Bond

It seemed like a match made in newspaper heaven. But after only three months, a bitter fight ensued involving financial matters. Regarding this dispute, the two men agree on only one fact: Days after the fight, Mr. Farooqi started The Pakistan Post, and the two didn't speak for the next three years. But by 1994, in response to rising immigration from Pakistan, the Urdu-language newspaper market began to swell. Prompted by economic considerations, the two leading publishers agreed to meet with each other. In a bid to monopolize the market, they said, they set a minimum advertising rate, and they have coexisted ever since.

Their publications, meanwhile, became local heavyweights, so much so that in 1995, Ms. Bhutto's party, which was then in power, offered each newspaper $95,000 for a year of positive coverage. At the time, both editors declined the offer and publicized it.

Last May, the two had a full-fledged reconciliation, which they both attribute to ''old age.'' Now they talk several times a day and are bound by a shared skepticism of many groups within the Pakistani community, which, they contend, do not have local interests at heart. And each man is the other's favorite companion.

''If I don't find Mr. Khalil in the evening,'' Mr. Farooqi said, plopping a cigarette butt into a stale cup of Dunkin' Donuts coffee, ''I go directly home.''

On another occasion, Mr. Khalil said: ''The moment I walk into my home, my wife says, 'You're hanging around him?' I say, 'How do you know?' She says, 'Because you smell like cigarettes.' ''

''And believe me,'' Mr. Farooqi interjected. ''When I get drunk, my wife says, 'You're with Khalil.' ''

At least once a week the two men travel around the city inspecting the 200 newspaper distribution spots, mostly at diners like Kebab King in Jackson Heights and Punjab Restaurant in Coney Island, where their free papers are stacked atop metal racks. On these visits, they ensure their papers are displayed more prominently than the eight smaller Pakistani weeklies that also compete for the top shelf. Yet theirs is a delicate friendship. On one recent drive, the men were asked if they would ever merge their newspapers.

''Don't ask touchy questions!'' Mr. Farooqi replied with some heat. ''All right?''

Nasim Syed, a poet and political commentator who has written for both publications, describes the friendship by stretching his hands back and forth as if he is playing an accordion.

''Come back next week,'' Mr. Syed said, ''and they won't be friends.''

The Fate of a Nation

Six days after the Bhutto assassination, in a ballet that involved a complicated blend of political passion and global technology, both Mr. Farooqi and Mr. Khalil were working grueling overnight shifts to close their first issues following her death.

Because neither of the editors can type quickly in Urdu, both men fax handwritten articles to Pakistan, where they are typed and laid out. Final proofs are e-mailed back to the editors, and printing takes place at separate presses in Queens.

By 8 that night, Mr. Farooqi's grief was all but forgotten.

''This is the defining moment for Pakistan,'' he said of the forthcoming elections. ''I have the feeling that if we don't understand the situation, we're going to lose the country.''

Later that night, Mr. Farooqi began working his phone every two minutes, dialing Pakistan with impressive dexterity for a man who cannot type.

''I've already asked him five times,'' he said to a source in Urdu. ''I'll ask him one more time. Give him the phone. Give it to him in the bathroom.''

News had arrived: The date for the new election would be announced at 9 in the morning, six hours after both papers were scheduled to go to press. Without a flash of hesitation, Mr. Farooqi opted to wait.

His main headline, on the other hand, was already written: ''The Benazir killing robs her party, and robs the people of Pakistan.'' The articles suggested that Ms. Bhutto had been killed not by radical Islamists but by agents of the Musharraf regime.

Asma Amanat, a 24-year-old intern who produces the English-language supplement that The Pakistan Post publishes, smirked as the proofs arrived. ''It's a Bhutto flier,'' she said within hearing of her boss. Flipping through the pages of a previous edition, she added: ''Here's Bhutto. This is about Bhutto. That's Bhutto there.''

''She's my critic,'' Mr. Farooqi said of his intern. ''But I don't support Bhutto. I always support democracy, free speech and human rights. And if you believe in that, you have to support Bhutto.''

Next door at The Urdu Times, Mr. Khalil's ads were in place. He couldn't be bothered to wait for the announcement of the new election date.

He summarized his lead story with a shrug: ''Musharraf is committed to democracy. He's sincere: Nothing will change.''

Mr. Khalil acknowledges that his politics are driven more by practicality than by ideology. ''This used to be a passion, but now it's a business,'' he said. ''For the last 25 years, my kids, my wife, everybody suffered because of this newspaper. So nowadays we write whatever our readers want.''

Ideally, he said, Pakistan would not be run by a military dictatorship. But he does not believe that a country in which a plate of biryani still buys a vote is ready for democracy.

President Musharraf, he said, has developed local industry and is the appropriate strongman to confront potentially divisive radical Islamists. ''Opposition parties are just dynasties,'' he said of the Bhutto family, which owns numerous houses abroad. ''She corrupted the nation. At least when the army corrupts, they spend it locally.''

Ripples of Resentment

In both newsrooms, the awkward friendship causes uneasiness among the small staffs.

At 9 at night, without a knock or a buzz, Mr. Khalil climbed the steps to The Pakistan Post and walked into the cloud of smoke that is Mr. Farooqi's unventilated office.

Mohammad Farrukh, The Post's 36-year-old editor, looked up in disgust. ''No one should come to our office,'' Mr. Farrukh said as he stood out of earshot in the hallway. ''We're not a grocery store. We're not a gas station.''

In the basement next door, where Mr. Khalil's wife, Anjum Khalil, and his 30-year-old son, Atif, serve as his overnight staff, there is similar discontent about the relationship between the men.

''If I had a fight like that, I probably wouldn't talk to that person,'' said Atif Khalil, a bookish individual who reads Noam Chomsky between fielding calls from his layout liaison in Pakistan. ''But my dad still sends me up there to help him with computer problems.''

Still, no manner of repairs can aid the ailing Urdu-language press. Immigration from Pakistan ceased after the attacks of 9/11, as thousands of illegal immigrants from Pakistan left the United States for Canada and Dubai. Compounding the problem, most members of the younger generation cannot read or write in Urdu.

And as these two men ponder an uncertain future, they are haunted by one dispiriting thought: despite 16 years of weekly reports, little if anything has changed in their homeland.

''I'm born in chaos, and I'm now working in chaos, and I have a feeling that when I die, Pakistan will be in the same position,'' Mr. Farooqi said. ''Since my childhood, I haven't heard any good news about my country.''

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