OWNERS STILL GAMBLE ON ESQUIRE
When Christopher Whittle and Phillip Moffitt bought languishing Esquire magazine two years ago, one of the last decrees of the outgoing regime was that its offices be moved to 2 Park Avenue. Thus the day the jaunty young Tennesseans (they were barely into their 30's) took charge, Esquire was literally a maze of unpacked boxes. The phones were on the blink. Articles were in such scarce supply that Mr. Moffitt was forced to comb through the reject pile. Out came some easy-to-forget pieces. Into print they went. ''It was a fitting beginning,'' Mr. Whittle smiles. The publishing industry scoffed. ''I figured that, in no more than six months,'' recalls one publisher, ''the Southern boys would rue the day they first heard of Esquire. The very name would cause them to scream in their sleep.''
