So what didn’t exist back when we celebrated our 100th anniversary in 1990? And what now exists that — not unlike a black hole — has pretty much consumed all our thoughts, visions and photos of chicken soup?
That’s right. The World Wide Web. Better known to you as WWW.
In 1991 — a year after our 100th anniversary — a guy by the name of Tim Berners-Lee, an independent contractor with lots of IQ, began the World Wide Web.
Initially, newspapers didn’t quite get it. And when we finally caught on, we didn’t much like it. We saw it as a competitor and wanted nothing to do with it.
Eventually, when we realized it wasn’t going away, we embraced it. And that’s where we are today. And in part because of the reputation The Columbian has built up over the last 125 years, we are the big dog when it comes to local websites.
Unfortunately, being the big dog didn’t automatically guarantee a successful business model. The main reason for that?
Before the Web was a player, advertisers mostly had to choose between a couple of newspapers and two or three TV stations. Today, you have to add to that mix the 3,123,456,812 websites advertisers can choose from. (I made that number up but I suspect it’s pretty close, give or take a billion.)
So even if the newspaper website is No. 1 locally, advertisers can spread their money around to many, many other websites.
Essentially, newspapers traded print dollars for web dimes.
It is that trade-off that has disrupted newspaper business models. The result has been a downsizing of newspaper staffs and an increase in cost to newspaper buyers.
But getting disrupted does not mean game over. All newspapers — including The Columbian — are fighting back. Not only are we pushing our social media involvement, but we’re also producing a print product that gives our readers depth and perspective that is as good — maybe better — than we used to. This two-pronged approach should get us through to our 150th anniversary … and longer.
The community
So why do I believe we’ll be here for our 150th anniversary? (Well, not me, but The Columbian.) The main reason won’t be some smart guys in IT and advertising figured out how to make the Web work for us, it won’t be because our raw paper costs went down, and it won’t be because our excellent delivery service got even better.
It will be because of you.
Shortly before this special anniversary edition was put together, The Columbian held an open house, inviting residents to join us in celebrating our milestone. Part of that celebration included opening up the newsroom to the community. Sure, folks were able to see the big, printing presses, get balloons and hang out with a guy in a dog suit. But it was the newsroom — the heart and soul of any newspaper — that attracted the most interest. (OK, that’s my opinion at least.)
We weren’t exactly sure what to expect when we opened the doors at noon. What we got was amazing! A line formed almost immediately (it wasn’t planned that way), and I happened to be there to greet each person. It was wonderful having conversations with so many of our readers. I didn’t count but there were several hundred at least. After I spoke with them, they mingled in the newsroom, where they also spoke to several of our journalists.
If you work in a newsroom, you get used to people who get angry with you. If they don’t like a story or a photo or a column, they’ll let you know. The anger comes from both the left and the right. But on this day, the community was here to tell us something much different. They came to tell us how much they appreciate The Columbian, how essential The Columbian is to their lives, how they realize the work we do is important. (This Press Talk column was also looked upon very kindly by this crowd.)
Clyde Soha
As I worked my way through the long line in our open house, I greeted one elderly gentleman who must have been waiting for an hour. I learned later it was 94-year-old Clyde Soha, a retired commercial artist who worked his trade for many years in Vancouver. I also learned later that Clyde was planning to give me a drawing he done especially for me … but he “chickened out.”
So we arranged to have Clyde come back a few days after our open house. He was formally dressed when I saw him in the long line, and he was formally dressed again for our second meeting.
We had a warm exchange. He told me how much he enjoyed reading The Columbian and my column. As he left, I thought to myself what magic a newspaper often brings to those who read us.
And I thought to myself what magic we hope to continue to bring.
