Blake’s Take

By Clarissa Blake

With the election just around the corner and emotions running high, I’ve been thinking about the responsibility that comes with publishing a community newspaper.

During National Newspaper Week, I read a column by Robb Hicks, a third-generation Wyoming newspaperman who helped revive eight community newspapers after they abruptly closed last year. His column was about what a community loses when its local newspaper disappears. One message stuck with me: “A newspaper is more than just paper and ink. It’s part of what holds a community together.” I couldn’t agree more. I also agree with the New York Times press guys who stated in an interview, “A day without ink, is like a day without sunshine.” Also very true to me.

Think about everything you find in the pages of your paper. Sports games, school achievements, birth announcements, anniversaries, new businesses, nonprofit fundraisers and obituaries of people who helped shape our communities. We get to share wonderful moments in people’s lives. There’s nothing better than hearing from someone who appreciated seeing a loved one, student or community accomplishment recognized in print or our online E-edition.

That’s only one side of what we do. We also cover city council meetings, school board decisions, public spending, court proceedings, accidents and other matters that aren’t always pleasant to report on. Sometimes those stories involve people we’ve known our entire lives. Sometimes they’re stories we’d rather not write, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be told.

Over the past year, we’ve covered difficult stories. I’ve had people question why we published certain information, ask to have their names removed from public court reports and express frustration over stories they felt should have been left alone. I understand that nobody wants to see their name associated with something negative, and I don’t take lightly a story’s impact on families and friends. Reporting on something doesn’t mean we take pleasure in someone’s misfortune. There is a human side to every story, but public information doesn’t stop being public simply because it’s uncomfortable.

As a publisher, I have a responsibility to report facts, whether the news is positive or negative. That responsibility doesn’t change based on who is involved or how well I know them. In a small community where everyone knows everyone, those decisions aren’t always easy.

There’s another reality that makes tough stories harder to cover. Local newspapers are operating in an increasingly fragile industry. I recently told Tagen, my boyfriend and our press/operations manager (yes, a little nepotism at its finest), that some days it feels like we’re buying supplies on the black market. Newspaper stock is expensive, deliveries are unpredictable, metal printing plates are harder to source, and replacement parts for some equipment are obsolete. Add rising postage costs, declining print subscriptions and advertising dollars shifting toward social media, and you begin to understand the challenges facing a small newspaper. Every subscription and advertisement matters to a business like ours.

So with all that gloom and doom, what happens when publishing a difficult story might cost us an advertiser? What happens when someone threatens to cancel a subscription because they don’t like what we’ve reported? It would certainly be easier to look the other way, but what kind of newspaper would that leave you with? If I decided which stories to publish based on who might get upset or who spends advertising dollars with us, would you still trust what you read? I sure wouldn’t.

Our advertisers support our business, and we appreciate that tremendously. But purchasing an advertisement doesn’t purchase influence over our news. The same goes for subscriptions. We’re human, and when we make mistakes, we have a responsibility to correct them. But there’s a distinct difference between correcting an error and withholding accurate information simply because someone doesn’t like it.

The upcoming election brings another layer to this conversation. Political advertisements, candidate announcements and letters to the editor can generate strong reactions. Providing a place for different voices doesn’t mean the newspaper endorses those opinions. Our communities include people with different backgrounds, beliefs and opinions. A community newspaper should serve everyone, not just those who agree with its publisher.

I also think about how much information people get from Facebook. Social media has its place, but a Facebook post isn’t the same as a newspaper article. A rumor can spread across a community in minutes without anyone checking whether it’s true. A comment can be repeated until people accept it as fact, and suddenly an entire community has formed an opinion without knowing the full story. A newspaper has people responsible for verifying information, asking questions and correcting mistakes.

Who’s attending city council meetings? Who’s asking questions about how tax dollars are being spent? Who’s keeping track of school board decisions or preserving local accomplishments for future generations? That’s part of our job.

A newspaper creates a record of community history, including moments worth celebrating and those we’d sometimes rather forget. Years from now, someone can look through our archives and see what was happening in our towns, who was making decisions and how our communities responded. A Facebook post may disappear in days, but a newspaper becomes part of the historical record.

Hicks wrote about the thousands of newspapers that have disappeared across the country and the millions of Americans who now have limited access to local news. It’s a reminder that local journalism isn’t guaranteed to be here forever.

I don’t say that to scare anyone into buying a subscription or placing an ad. I say it because we sometimes take for granted what it means to have someone showing up, asking questions, taking photographs, recording facts and putting together a newspaper week after week.

I love sharing the good things happening in our communities. I love celebrating our students, businesses, volunteers and the people who make this area a wonderful place to call home. But my job isn’t always to make people happy. Sometimes it’s to ask the uncomfortable question, publish the difficult story and stand behind a decision even when it isn’t popular. That responsibility extends to everyone who works for our newspapers. We owe our readers fairness, accuracy and the willingness to do our jobs with integrity and without bias.

I don’t expect everyone to agree with every story we publish or every editorial decision I make. I know they won’t. What I do hope is that people understand why we do it. In a generation of “cancel culture,” I will go against the popular and do what is right: report the good and the bad for the sake of our community.

A newspaper that only prints the good news might make everyone feel warm and cozy for a little while, but it wouldn’t be doing its full job. If we expect our local newspapers to celebrate our communities, shouldn’t we also expect them to hold those same communities accountable?