friday bummer

Yesterday I went to see Stop the Presses: The American Newspaper in Peril, a documentary about what appears to be the inevitable demise of the newspaper as we know it. (The film was co-produced and directed by Manny Mendoza a former Dallas Morning News critic who took a buyout.) It’s playing as part of the AFI Film Festival here in Dallas and shows one more time, on Saturday, at the Angelika.

To an extent, of course, I didn’t hear anything I didn’t already know—Craiglist killed classified, advertising is going to the web (where rates are lower), nobody is willing to pay for news on the web, going public put too much emphasis on profits, young people aren’t reading newspapers, yadda yadda yadda.

Nonetheless, hearing wizened newsmen (Ben Bradlee to Ed Asner) and women talk, seeing footage inside daily planning meetings (which I attended from time to time as an assistant editor) and watching newspaper-related clips from old movies made me feel even more poignantly the loss. I had great fun at the Dallas Morning News, when it was fun. Even in features (as opposed to hard news) we felt ourselves part of the pulse of the city . Our perceptions of our importance were greatly inflated, of course, but it was a giddy, heady feeling to be part of something the entire city shared (we imagined). I loved walking into the big, downtown monolith each day, with the pompous inscription carved above the front door:

Build the news upon the rock of truth and righteousness. Conduct it always upon the lines of fairness and integrity. Acknowledge the right of the people to get from the newspaper both sides of every important question.

I loved the pace of the newspaper, loved knowing the people behind the byline, loved seeing myself in the paper, even loved seeing myself smiling up from the bottom of a gerbil tank in my vet’s office one day.

As a consumer, I love that transitional time of day, between sleeping and work, spent drinking coffee and reading my newspaper. Alas, that time gets shorter and shorter as the paper contains less and less to read. The other morning, Tom tossed the newspaper on the bed for me as he does every morning and it felt no more weighty than a napkin hitting the bed. It’s fading. It’s fading away.

But the loss will be more than just about nostalgia. The newspaper really is the watchdog of our democracy and the more it buckles under the weight of the marketplace, the more I fear for us all. Nobody does investigative reporting like the newspapers. Watergate, the Catholic Church scandals, the Walter Reed hospital exposé—all these were the work of diligent, committed, creative and hard working reporters. And believe me, good reporters work their asses off. I’ve seen it.

As the documentary points out, all the TV and radio news shows and pundits draw information from newspapers. Those guys will have nothing to talk about if the New York Times, LA Times, and Washington Post go under. Then it will be all Britney all the time. When it’s not Paris.

What I do? It’s just piffle. I love writing features and I’m glad to entertain people, but you can get features anywhere. OK, they do help the rest of the newspaper go down more easily--I’ll read about the latest Dallas Independent School District scandal if I know I can reward myself with Carolyn Hax afterwards. I would miss features if my newspaper carried news alone. Still, nobody needs them. They’re just newspaper candy.

But we do need reporters, the kind of tough nuts who will knock on strangers’ doors and ask hard questions, who will go past the surface and then past the surface and then past the surface to find out what’s at the bottom. The kinds of people—and they do exist, I know lots of them—who would rather starve than violate the code of ethics by which newspapers operate. (By taking subsidized trips, I cannot count myself fully among them but I am meticulous about fairness in both my travel and non-travel stories.) Bloggers are taking up the slack to an extent, but they are unsupervised and simply not as trustworthy. No, don’t argue. They’re not.

The real bummer is that nobody sees a solution. They laugh about it in the documentary, but it’s a hysterical laugh. An entire, vital industry is scrambling to save itself but nobody knows how.

I feel like I’m standing on shore watching the Titanic go down and can’t do anything to stop it.