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Reflections on another loss for Lakewood journalism

You can pick up the last issue of the American Community Journal at a number of businesses and institutions like the library and City Hall. Do so, and quickly. It’s a collector’s item now.

Ed Kane announced his retirement after putting out a monthly newspaper for 33 issues, darn near single-handedly. He would often give credit to others, even including me, but the fact is that Ed did nearly all the work. Those of us who have been lucky enough to labor at community papers know something of what he has been through; and so, frankly, we hold Ed in awe.

Weekly newspapers never have a large staff. But they usually have a staff. Ed’s newspaper was essentially a marathon run. The last time anyone published a paper with so few resources was Charles Prosch, who published a paper in Steilacoom and what we now call Lakewood from 1858 to 1863. In 1863, he closed the paper and moved to Olympia. The only reason Charles lasted as long as he did was that he had the help of three sons. Ed had help, sure, and if you know one of his writers, please thank them. But the burden was on his shoulders (and his camera and his keyboard and his database of calendar items, and …).

A number of folks, aware that I used to edit The Lakewood Journal, have asked me what Lakewood could do to support a local news source. From an emotional perspective, you would be hard-pressed to find bigger believers than your former editors, like Ed and me. The rewards are equal to the challenge – if you can keep up with both. Being editor of the Journal was the best job I ever had. That’s high praise, because I remain thrilled and honored that you have entrusted me with a position on the City Council. It was great to be embraced by a community and be able to serve that community. I feel like I became part of a huge extended family along the way. Sure, individuals disagreed from time to time, but we were united in … well, there’s the word again … community.

I will never forget the first night in our new UP office on 27^th when the first edition of the University Place Journal hit the doorways. People were calling to say ‘thank you.’ Let me repeat that in case you read over that sentence: They were calling a paper to say ‘thank you.’ I can assure you from experience that when people call a paper, it is usually not to say ‘thank you.’ But readers there recognized the need, and the passion and unifying force that a community paper brings its people. And that’s not even counting the vital role that a community paper plays in educating its citizens. Do you even know what is going on in Lakewood now? Neither do I, and I’m on the City Council. It doesn’t matter who you are. You need a community paper. We all need a community paper. Without it, we’re an incomplete community.

The Journal could do things that a regional newspaper could not do, from featuring photos of Eagle Scouts to detailing the last boring minutes of a City Council meeting. We could celebrate community in all forms. Look how Ed went out in this final edition. Look at the story right under the paper's name: a Page One headline about the success of Greater Lakes Mental Health on its 40th anniversary. From a business point of view, for a paper that only prints one cover a month, that’s crazy. People buy newspapers with crime and titillation and stories of things gone wrong. Sorry, folks, but it’s true. For a while, I kept a chart of how The Lakewood Journal sold on newsstands depending on cover story. What led sales during that period? A paper that featured a bunch of headlines about various crimes and gangs. What cover story was on the paper that sold the least number of newsstand issues? The cover with a profile of a young Alternatives for Individuals student serving as a good example for other youth.

So what edition was I most proud of? The profile of the youth, of course. To their credit, the company I worked for never told me to print sensational covers. But we could offer a new cover every week. We tried to judge what most merited treatment on the cover that week, and relied on our home readers to carry our business. Sometimes the subject was sensational - sometimes it wasn't. Most legitimate papers operate in the same way when it comes to choosing their front page stories. But it is no coincidence that the larger newspapers tell stories of disaster and wrong - and to be fair, often the good. They know what sells, and it is that volatile, sometimes unnerving particular package of news. Ed knows, on the other hand, what should sell on a community paper - community. What undid him and the rest of us was the hard reality of doing business in these particular communities.

The truth is that I can say "But Lakewood needs a paper; Lakewood deserves a paper" all I want. A conventional newspaper is a business. And as a business, a newspaper in Lakewood has three big obstacles:

1. The community has been trained, over many decades, to expect a community paper for free. This is a huge problem. The old Journal asked subscribers for $20 a year. That’s what – 38 cents an issue for a weekly? Ed asked $15. But people did not want to pay (now, if you did pay either our paper, or Ed’s – thank you!). Frankly, the idea was not to raise money. Subscribers only cover a small portion of a newspaper’s costs. Advertising usually pays more. But in order to get ads, a newspaper needs to show advertisers that people will read their advertising – and how can you make that argument when hardly anyone is willing to even pay for the paper?

The frustrating thing, of course, is that we all knew darn well that people did read the paper – our paper, and later, Ed’s paper. But unless you lived in this community, you would assume no one reads a freebie. So why would you advertise?

The old Journal’s only choice was to distribute the paper for free and assert to advertisers that people read it. Ed has the same problem and had no choice but to turn to the same solution. If we had waited for people to pay, we would have had very few readers. No one would have advertised then, either. So we pumped up circulation by giving it away – at the cost of successfully convincing advertisers that there were enough readers who cared.

(I just re-read the last few paragraphs, and it sounds sort of bitter. I don’t mean it that way – I wouldn’t usually pay for something either if I was used to getting it for free. I’m on a budget too. I’m just trying to explain why we don’t have newspaper companies fighting to open papers in Lakewood and University Place)

2. Many of the potential advertisers have a more regional focus. Almost all large advertisers – by that I mean a corporation headquartered out of town – think they get more value by advertising in the region from which they expect to draw customers. And they love to get as much coverage as they can. Why would Target or Safeway (names chosen very randomly) advertise in the Journal when they can advertise in a newspaper or other medium serving all of the South Sound? If you are a large Lakewood business, wouldn’t you like people to drive in from Tacoma or Fort Lewis?

And -- by placing one insert in the News Tribune, a large business can advertise on behalf of stores not only in Lakewood, but also Tacoma, Federal Way, and any other nearby location.

3. A lot of the small, community businesses that would traditionally support a community paper can't afford to advertise, or don't see enough return, or both. We just don’t have enough locally owned businesses that advertise. At least, that's been the problem in the past.

The News Tribune, for example, can support community papers in Gig Harbor and Puyallup because they are distinct communities with distinct advertising markets that, more or less, have boundaries. The root of Lakewood’s problem is that it is contiguous to other areas. The same is true for UP.

Thankfully, some business owners clearly did see the need for a community paper, and did see a return, because you can read their ads in the final edition of the American Community Journal. My heartiest ‘thank you’ to all of them. Of everyone in this saga, except of course also for Ed and his writers, you are heroes to the community.

Given the fate of the Journals, and papers whose names can still be seen on a dwindling number of boxes around town - a lot of us have rushed to pay tribute to Ed and may have made him sound a lot like a dreamer or a Don Quixote. That’s not at all true. He was following a smart and proven business path. Any of us who have been in the business know people who have made money by starting a paper and getting the attention of a larger newspaper company that then buys out the founder. Some people have even made a lot of money by doing that.

So Ed was doing the right thing. It just didn’t work out.

Now, don’t get me wrong. As Ed notes in his final edition, in theory, someone could make money with a community paper in Lakewood, particularly if they included UP and Steilacoom - maybe even DuPont. But they would not make a lot of money. You'd have a small staff, with lots of work. Even in the field of journalism, it's a lot of work. Bear in mind, you would serve a total population of well over 80,000 - that's a disproportionately large pool of readers for a small weekly paper. So you would have plenty of readers to run you to ground if you pick what they think is the wrong political cause, or if you miss or misstate complex context. They'll be after you if you or someone else slips and publishes the wrong date or time or cost for an event. Of course, they should be after you - you're supposed to get everything right. To be a journalist, you have to believe accuracy is always possible, even if human nature says it is not.

Do you want that burden? Don’t feel alone – no one else does, apparently.

So I’m not sure where to leave this. I don’t want to end this column, because somehow, I want to believe. “Yes, Virginia, we can have a Lakewood Journal …”

In his final edition, Ed says he believes that if the community cooperated, it could support something with the value of a community paper. I want with all my heart to believe that is true. I know many of you do as well, because I’ve already  heard from you.

If you are interested in this subject, drop me a line. If we can get enough people together, maybe after the holidays you and me and Ed and others can sit down and brainstorm. There’s no reason Lakewood has to accept its fate without kicking. But I don’t want to mislead you, either. I don’t have the time to do what Ed did. Neither, I suspect, do you. Can we get there by working together? Can we come up with other solutions? I hope so.

If I may quote Ed:

"What we lose with the disappearance of a community news publication is not the earth-shaking stuff. We know from numerous news sources that the world in general is hell-bent for one disaster after another.

“What will we know without a community paper? Who will herald these efforts of sacrifice and giving? Charitable and civic organizations that have taken on the responsibility for preserving well-being in our communities now will have one less forum for exposing the general population to their needs and deeds.”

Stop. Pause. Catch a breath and think beyond this page. You only see black letters on a white screen. But someone originally arranged and typed those letters above: typed those letters with real fingers, attached to a real Ed Kane. Imagine what he was feeling – what experiences he was reliving. People bringing new life to Summerfest and new joy to Fort Steilacoom Park? Adults with a million other demands on their time brightening the lives of lonely middle school children? Unless you have been an ink-stained wretch yourself, this is probably the closest you will ever come to knowing just how much fun I had as editor of the Journal – and how rewarding it was and how much passion we have all felt. Ed is revealing what has bound all of us – whether we are a Sclair, a Kasselman, a Dunkelberger or a Neary – to these communities and their paper.

We were being paid to seek out the emotional equivalent of caffeine. The community journalist goes to all the meetings of all the above groups and meets as many people as she or he can who do wonders in the community. Working at a community paper is an injection of warmth and optimism and the discovery of the family known as a community. This feeling of optimism and community is addictive. Any of us who cared enough to become editor and have been exposed to all that good activity will tell you that we miss it.

Maybe caffeine is not a good comparison. Let's try something else. Let’s assume, hopefully, you like the relatives or friends who may visit during the holidays – do you know how you feel when they pass through your door? That’s sort of how a community journalist feels every time he or she discovers a new path of good in a community, a new hope to build a better tomorrow. In places like Lakewood and University Place, where so many people are doing good, you have an endless stream of wonderful people and feelings walking through your door. Who could ever forget that?

So now you know what it's like being editor of a weekly paper. It's a great feeling. It's a great experience. But that's not enough. Once again in the annals of Lakewood journalism, the experience could not be sustained.

Time to end the column. Sorry, Virginia. I do not have an answer for you.

Can the experience ever be sustained?

Now it’s someone else’s turn to say.

To publish.

To feel.