Without much fanfare, print newspapering in Rhode Island suffered some body blows recently, and though my view on this surely dates me, I grieve the situation.
In August, two community weeklies, the Chariho Times in South County and the Coventry Courier, shut down.
Now, two daily newspapers that have served the Blackstone Valley since the 19th Century, the Woonsocket Call and the Pawtucket Times, have been cobbled into one.
Coupled with mortal staffing cuts and deadline strictures at our statewide paper –where I spent most of my own fulfilling days in journalism – these implosions sting.
We’re a long way from my early toils in community newspapering, so close to the readership that one never knew if the next person through the door would irately wag a finger or gratefully drop off a dozen pepper biscuits.
Time, indifferent corporate ownership, and the impersonal babel of social media have effectively ended the era when an editor’s day might include a cheek-by-jowl comeuppance and an equally proximate expression of appreciation.
Retrenchments at many newspapers make it hard to argue with those who say the print medium’s usefulness has suffered serious erosion. And in many cases, their online versions suffer as well from the remorseless staff and deadline cutbacks.
There was a time – a generation or so ago – when the arrival of the newspaper on one’s doorstep (or in nearby bushes) was as essential as the morning’s first cup of coffee. But across the country, far fewer papers are appearing on far fewer doorsteps.
Over the past three years, an average of two newspapers a week have disappeared, and circulation at many others has tanked as readers continue moving to a plethora of digital sources. Many (like this one) help close the information gap, while others harbor malign intent.
The Washington Post reports that some 2,200 local print newspapers have closed since 2005, and between 2008 and 2020 the number of newspaper journalists fell by more than half.
This has created “news deserts” – communities where issues involving government, education, and public safety are unreported.
The highly regarded journalism school at the University of North Carolina/Chapel Hill adds another haunting element, the rise of what it calls “ghost” newspapers.
The school reports that “Many of our 7,100 surviving newspapers are mere shells, or ‘ghosts,’ of their former selves…Metro, regional and state papers have dramatically scaled back their coverage of city neighborhoods, the suburbs and rural areas, dealing a double blow to communities that have also lost a local weekly.”
American writer and publisher Richard Kluger, a lifelong lover of the written word, once noted, “Every time a newspaper dies, even a bad one, the country moves a little closer to authoritarianism.”
Judging from what we see taking root today in parts of the American political landscape, one might sense a correlation.
But this would be pure speculation, beyond the expertise of a long-pastured and old-hat community print editor.
Still, looking back to when most folks thought holding a newspaper was a cerebral and sensual pleasure, there was more gratitude baked into those pepper biscuits than at the time met my eye.