Lamenting great American newspapers
By
Gerald E. Scorse, Progressive Charlestown guest columnist
It
all began with baseball. I was growing up in the 1940s in Rochester, N.Y., a
farm team for the St. Louis Cardinals. I couldn’t get enough of them in the
first newspaper I ever read, the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle. The instant
it came I grabbed the sports pages, flopped myself down on the living room
floor, and lost myself at the ballpark.
Eight
decades later the Cardinals are still my favorite team, but my heart has moved
on. These days I’m clinging to a deeper love: print newspapers.
We’ve
lost more than 2,500 since 2005.
They’re currently dying at the rate of over 100 a year. My heartthrob The New
York Times has metamorphosed into a print/digital hybrid, testing my loyalty to
print like never before.
Back
to the early days. My family moved to Erie, Pa. For years the Erie Daily Times
tutored me in how the world turns—including the world of the Cardinals and
their superstar, Stan (The Man) Musial. The Times also gave me my first real
job, tossing newspapers onto lawns and front steps, knocking on doors once a
month to collect from subscribers.
Another
move, to Jamestown, N.Y., put the bloom on my newsprint romance. I became a
sports writer at the Jamestown Post-Journal. It was intoxicating: phones
forever ringing, heads bent over typewriters, magic moments when each day’s
paper was raced upstairs from the pressroom. I wrote articles, headlines, a
column that included my picture. It couldn’t possibly get any better.
And
then it did. I took a new job writing for a bigger paper, the Syracuse, N.Y.
Herald-Journal. I covered the Cornell-Syracuse football game. The star that day
would be a star forever: the late Jim Brown, possibly the greatest football
player of all time. I covered the Hall of Fame baseball game in Cooperstown,
N.Y. My first-person story ran under the headline “Writer in love with
slowed-up copy of ‘The Man’”.
The
draft intervened. The Army took me away for two years. It taught me, among
other things, that sports weren’t the most important thing in the world.
Home
again in Jamestown, I switched from sports writing to cityside reporting. It
pumped me up even more than before. I wrote about City Council meetings and the
police department, crafted offbeat pieces for a feature called Talk of the
Town. I loved print newspapers from two sides now, and I’ve never really
stopped.
I
came to New York City with dreams of writing for a big-city daily. I remember
seeing the city’s skyline for the first time, feeling the city’s energy for the
first time.
So
much for my dreams. In December of 1962, a
114-day strike by the printers’ union shut down all seven of the city’s dailies
and ultimately killed four of them. They were icons and then they were gone:
the Herald Tribune, the World-Telegram & Sun, the Journal-American, the
Mirror.
Vanity
Fair wrote this epitaph 50 years later: “As a newspaper town, New York was
never the same again.”
The
union struck because the new technologies of offset printing and cold type were
beginning to replace linotype presses and “hot” type. Today the new technology
of digital printing is replacing type itself: instead of words on paper, we’re
getting images on a screen.
In
my dinosaur world, digital newspapers are imitations of the real thing.
The
real thing is what my wife and I sit down to at the dining room table every
morning. The New York Times comes in sections, which we swap back and forth
until we’ve gone over all of them. We tell each other what looks most
interesting or enlightening, what makes us laugh or touches our hearts. In
other words, we communicate with each other while being communicated to; it
gets our days off to a super-sweet start.
Maybe not for much longer, though. The reasons just keep piling
up, pushing a newsprint lover in the digital direction.
The Times long ago stopped printing stock market tables, box
scores, anything and everything with lots of numbers. TV watchers have been
shorted as well: no more daily listing of the programs that are airing, on what
channels, at what times.
IMHO, I’m also seeing overlong stories over-illustrated with
over-large photos. The baseball coverage comes up short in the opposite
direction: there are days when The Times doesn’t print a word about the Yankees
or the Mets or anybody else, throwing a shutout at all fans. (Note: In early 2022 the corporate New York Times went
sports-digital as well as news-digital, buying out the online The Athletic for
$550 million cash.)
Lastly, the print Times is regularly being scooped by its
digital offspring. Print subscribers get access to the digital version too, so
of course I log in now and then. Time and again, I’ll read stories online that
won’t appear in the paper for days. (Recent example: A June 8 piece about the author Joan Didion didn’t show
up in print until June 17.)
I cherish the old Times. We’ve had it home-delivered to our
apartment on Manhattan’s Upper West Side for decades. Inflation has seriously
upped the price, pushing it into four figures for the year—and it’ll likely go
even higher.
My head and my heart are locked in a one-on-one. My head is
urging me to live in the 21st century. My heart, long in love with
print, wants to keep having those sweet Times mornings.
In the end my heart and my head will probably keep playing
one-on-one. They’re torn by two very different newspaper worlds. Very torn.
Gerald E. Scorse helped pass the bill requiring basis reporting for capital gains. He writes on taxes. His articles have appeared often in Progressive Charlestown.
© 2023 Gerald E. Scorse