One of the biggest reasons for such division in this country is not Taylor Swift or pickleball, but the extinction of local news.
I have no interest in rehashing why the lack of local news has resulted in us not knowing each other or that news deserts give mega-news sources an inordinate amount of influence. Op-eds across the country covered this, though most of these seemed to arrive back when everyone was wrapped up in playing Wordle.
Many of those opinion pieces may have gotten too in the weeds, so I’d like to try a different approach — my personal story, which may be the last time I will appear in a newspaper, as they are all in trouble. (You can Google that. You know, on the internet, the reason so few newspapers are left.)
Newspapers and magazines have been my whole life. (Yes, I decided to lump in magazines in this eulogy, too. They have less to do with this country being at each other’s throats, but heck, they’re in the same sinking ship.)
I would be illiterate today if I didn’t start reading Sports Illustrated in grade school. The nuns made a special exception for me after my mother went up to school and convinced them to let me bring the magazine to class. It kept me from getting into trouble and preoccupied my extraordinary (my word, not theirs) mind.
I continued to bring my weekly issues into class until SI decided to do annual swimsuit issues. There’s nothing creepier than a third grader studying Cheryl Tiegs in religion class. (Google her.)
I wanted to one day work for Sports Illustrated myself. Being in a magazine was glamorous. I remember when newspapers and magazines would be splayed on living room tables to look smart for company, or served as water-cooler fodder when we used to all meet in a building to work.
The printing press was just a few centuries ago (1436) — a blip in our history. Spaghetti has been around three times longer. But with more people now getting their news online, no doubt spaghetti is going to outlast papers (and at this rate, paper and pens, too).
Getting a new magazine in the mailbox was exhilarating. I cherished them, worked for them, and now, I dearly miss them.
I did come full circle and work for Sports Illustrated. My dream came to an end with the passing of Mickey Mantle. The evening before I was assigned to do my first Sports Illustrated cover, The Mick went to the great dugout in the sky, and I was bumped off the cover.
The magazine recently folded, joining many in the print graveyard. I worked at many titles, from MAD to Mademoiselle — all went under while I was working for them. Before I worked for them, newspapers and magazines formed who I am today, and informed how I thought. They were also a lifeline.
There was no better example than The Village Voice. Every Tuesday, new issues arrived in red plastic boxes throughout the city, advising all where to eat, sleep, work or sometimes, find love. I would eventually work for The Voice, but ultimately, it perished. The loss of urgency the paper brought to the streets was never replaced.
Newspapers in New York City gave the Big Apple its personality. Newspapers are the heart of every city. So before it’s too late, get your hands dirty. Put down that device you’re reading this on and read your local paper in print, while you still can. The first daily newspaper in this country was The Pennsylvania Evening Post, and it helped bring this country together during the American Revolution. On July 6, 1776, it published on its front page the United States Declaration of Independence.
Thank you, newspapers. And happy World Press Freedom Day (May 3). Enjoy it while you can.
Bob Eckstein is an award-winning N.Y. Times bestselling author. He lives in New York City and his new book is “Footnotes from the Most Fascinating Museums.”
