Messina

As I write this, the newsroom is eerily quiet. The only noises I
hear come from an occasional fax printing and a whirring desk fan. As I
look around, I see piles of newspapers, black computer screens and
empty chairs. Not a soul around.

This could be a scene from a Stephen King movie, where some plague
or monster has wiped out a newsroom. In reality, it’s just a typical
late evening at the Tucson Weekly‘s offices.

But as I look at the blank screens and unoccupied chairs, I can’t
help but think about newly vacant newsrooms around the country. It’s
almost as if some Stephen King-esque creature is taking them out one by
one: Denver’s Rocky Mountain News—exterminated; the
Seattle Post-Intelligencer—print copies eliminated; Texas’
Floresville Chronicle-Journal—annihilated.

And let’s not forget our own Tucson Citizen. As of
this writing, the Gannett monster has left its poor employees hanging
as the paper exists somewhere between life and death.

For certain newspapers still publishing, horror-flick terms are
common. The New York Times cut salaries by 5 percent. The
Charlotte Observer sliced about 15 percent of its workforce. And
the Atlanta-Journal Constitution slashed 30 percent of its
full-time news staff.

Pundits point to several reasons for print-media problems—poor
management practices, a bad economy, financial carelessness and the
Internet.

The Internet didn’t really exist back in the late 1970s when I got
my first glimpse at a newsroom. Even though it was through my
television screen, the fictitious Los Angeles Tribune newsroom
on Lou Grant looked like a magical place where people worked to
tell the truth, make a difference and change the world. I remember
watching the reporters, thinking, “How cool would it be to do
that?”

Today, I drive down dusty Tucson roads with a pad of paper and a
recorder by my side, off to meet the people in our town. I tell stories
and disseminate information with the goal of touching a reader’s mind,
heart or even funny bone. To me, that’s the magic and power of the
printed word.

Now our printed words are moving to the Internet with lightning
speed. It’s easy to click through a news story. But what of the
newsprint on your fingertips? The crinkle of the paper as you turn it?
The catchy headline that grabs you? And the beautifully placed photo on
the page? Are those wonderfully earthy features of a printed newspaper
coming to an end?

Tell me you don’t have a fond memory of being in the
paper—whether it was for scoring a touchdown, winning a contest
or acting in the school play. Who has a fond memory of being on the
Internet for the first time? A newspaper is just more appealing.

My love affair with the printed page aside, nostalgia can’t carry us
along. Statistics paint a dark picture—but there are signs of
light on the horizon.

First up, from the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies, posted
in June 2008: “A new report issued by The Media Audit reveals that 43.8
million adults have read an alternative newsweekly … in the past 30
days. The study … reveals an average readership of 374,296 adults in
2007 compared to 362,938 in the previous year, a 3 percent
increase.”

Late last month, the Newspaper Revitalization Act was introduced by
Sen. Benjamin Cardin, a Maryland Democrat. The act would allow
newspapers to restructure as nonprofits, thereby obtaining tax-exempt
status. Financial benefits are evident, but being classified as a
501(c)(3) forbids engagement in political activities, such as candidate
endorsements.

There may not be enough support for this bill due to editorial
restrictions, but at least steps are being taken to possibly help the
industry. If government can bail out greedy bankers and insurance
companies, why not help out journalists and an industry that is truly
an institution?

A pro-newspaper event called National Buy a Newspaper Day took place
on Feb. 2. Created by Chris Freiberg, a reporter for Alaska’s
Fairbanks Daily News-Miner, the day was a reminder to go
down to your local newsstand, grocery store or school, and pick up the
paper. Reading online didn’t count.

This type of grassroots effort appeals to me, because it’s something
all of us can do. From our humble abodes, we newspaper readers can’t
instantly control what happens in Washington, D.C., or how newspaper
companies manage the bottom line.

But we can pick up a paper, sit at our kitchen table or local
café, and read it. We can take in the words and images on the
printed page and learn about our neighbors and the world. And from that
enlightened perspective, the future of newspapers can be in everyone’s
hands.

This article appears in Apr 9-15, 2009.