Megyn Kelly is very easy to like.
Megyn Kelly is a good and decent person.
The story of on-air Megyn Kelly is the story of off-air Megyn Kelly.
End of story.
Start of another: She’s a former head cheerleader with tomboy tendencies. If the world was “Peanuts,” she’d be a Lucy — always the smartest, always in charge, but in a way that’s ultimately endearing.
“Poor Piers,” she says, as if she’s snatched the football away from her CNN competitor. She scrolls through an Excel spreadsheet of Nielsen ratings in her small office on News Corp’s 17th floor early last week. It’s near the close of business in midtown Manhattan, but Kelly’s workday is just beginning and, according to the numbers, she’s eating the competition for breakfast.
“The Kelly File” draws more viewers than Piers Morgan and MSNBC’s Rachel Maddow combined.
“We just do it better,” she says, legs crossed in dark-blue jeans and calf-high leather boots. Her hair is pulled straight back. Her crucial physical trait is not her Grace Kelly face but her Barbara Stanwyck voice, a deeper, authoritative register inherited from her mother, a retired nurse.