For a decade, Allison Hantschel worked at small newspapers in the Midwest. She left that career for the world of nonprofits, which are still journalism-adjacent.
I first met Allison online, when I saw her responding to a tweet from a magazine editor lamenting the loss of local newspapers and chiding Americans for not investing in supporting their local journalism.
And there is a lot to be said for that line of thought. There are a lot of local journalists who do incredible work only to have it ignored or cannibalized by national outlets. There is a problem with large news conglomerates. But there is another problem, too. There is a problem of power and audience. There is a problem where business meets storytelling and where whiteness meets our conception of audience. And this is the story that isn’t being told.
On these topics, Allison had some things to say.
Invest in UX, fire the Dollar Store Buckleys that populate your editorial pages, dump the syndicated content that for some reason is behind a paywall, and tell your reporters to quit being thin-skinned babies on Twitter dot com. Then I'll give you my Netflix $$$.
— Allison Hantschel (@Athenae) December 8, 2020
In her analysis, she talked about how large outlets pearl-grab local news but cannibalize it. She talked about how local newspaper websites are bad and so is the content and we aren’t talking about that. Because she is a Midwestern lady willing to shout the truth, I interviewed her about her history at small newspapers and what she sees as the real problems in local journalism. In sum, she argues, newspapers were damaging themselves long before the internet and private equity came along.
And for the longest time I actually believed that. But then you start asking, well, okay, if we’re broke, then why is Conrad’s wife expensing summer drinks, $21,000 worth, to the company?
And somehow we don’t have any money to pay to a government agency for release of documents that we need to report on our communities. This was back in the late ’90s. So this is not the internet. This is not, “Oh, the bloggers have stolen all of our cash.”
This is back when, what we’re now told, was the good times.
I moved on to another paper, which was also a mess. For different reasons. The community wanted their paper and loved their paper and cared about their paper, but were absolutely unable to get it. Like physically could not get the newspaper. For the longest time, people would call the newsroom because they couldn’t get through on the circulation line, or they couldn’t get help, and say, “Hey, I didn’t get my paper.”
There’s a whole department that’s supposed to be dealing with this. What is happening right now? And so it was just all this nonsense. I left daily newspaper journalism in 2005. But it’s only gotten worse, because now there is the internet to scapegoat for all of the incompetence and thievery.
Then, several months later, the company purchases an already existing small paper in the same community. And we compete against ourselves for three years. We should have just bought them in the first place and just brought them into the fold. But no, we’re going to work against ourselves. So there was nothing about the internet that made people do that.
And I was like, you’re kidding, but you’re not really kidding because what newspapers have done over the years is disinvest in circulation, in marketing and in distribution. And if people don’t know about your paper and people can’t get your paper, those problems cross business models, that is not an issue of needing to find a way to build in micropayments.
The issue is just not thinking about your customers first. I don’t care if they’re digital first or print first, if you’re not reader first, what are you doing? If you’re not thinking to yourself, “Hey, how is this going to serve the audience that I am responsible for?” What is the point? And sure, that can include your local business leaders or whatever. But if they’re literally poisoning people and lying about it, then probably you should side with the people that are being hurt. You know what I mean? Like, why is that revolutionary? Why is that such a hard story to write?
When editors and publishers are nervous because the mayor is mad again, or that a banker is claiming cancel culture because you won’t publish his racist op-ed, who are you really serving? Who is your audience, really? Also, if the only time you’re covering the Black community is when there’s crime, who is your audience, really?
Also, there is a mindset that maybe our customers will love us if we give them nothing but cotton candy. And that’s not right.
Power is used to being in power and doesn’t like to be questioned. So there is no thinking critically, just reactions.
The first editorial page editor I worked with was a woman named Chris Bailey. She worked for the Elgin Courier News, which still exists, sort of. Chris retired many years ago, but Chris was a hero. Elgin was thought to be a suburb, but it really was its own sort of small town — decaying manufacturing base, brand-new casino comes in and et cetera, et cetera.
And there was a lot of violence. And we covered the violence as violent. So when there’s a triple homicide in the friggin’ middle of the daytime, on a public street where the bodies are just laying there…Yes, we’re going to publish that on the front page.
And the city fathers of course flipped out. They told us we were giving the town a bad name. And Chris wrote an editorial that said, you guys don’t have an image problem. You have a corpse problem. Make the corpses go away, and your image problem will go away.
I think about that. And I’m like, okay, put Chris in charge of The Washington Post editorial board. And we would not have had the last four years.
It’s not bad business to hold people accountable. It just makes you uncomfortable at the country club. And sure, maybe the governor won’t come to your conferences, but so what? Wear that like a badge of honor.
You should revel in criticism of terrible people — criminals and scum. If Mitch McConnell hated me by name, I would tattoo that on my forehead. I would die bragging about it. You know what I mean? Because it would mean I did my job.
I will say, however, we have gotten to the point where everybody’s thinking, “Everyone hates me. That means I’m doing something right.” Which isn’t true. That one makes me nuts because that is not it. Everyone hates you because you’re a dick, not because your ideas are so good.
So, I had this guy come over and scream at me because I was making it difficult for him to get to games. And I was just like, you know what? I don’t actually care all that much about your problem. But that’s the thing. These are his buds, right? These are his bros, and they go and tell him stuff. But they obviously didn’t tell him very much if he didn’t break the story first. What’s the value of these friendships?
And the decision not to do this actually has public health consequences. People get sick and die because you wrote stories that made it sound like basketball is normal and everything is fine. Writing doesn’t happen in a moral vacuum.
This is also the story of racism at the Iowa football program. You have white men cover the sport for years, and then everyone is all shocked when players come out and talk about racism. Because no one saw it. Well, of course they didn’t see it. You are all white. And if you did see it, you chose not to write about it, because that wasn’t your “area.”
Like if we violate them and use the wrong word, then someone’s going to take our journalism badge away. What is to prevent the sports writers from all of a sudden doing a story about COVID and high school sports and how it’s affecting them financially? That’s an incredibly compelling sports story. Why is that not your thing? And that’s what makes me absolutely bananas. This is not a rule. This is just something you’ve decided. And you could decide the other way. So tell me why you’ve decided that. And if you can’t back it up, don’t get mad at me for pointing it out.
So, they aren’t even good at this.
You have to provide something of value to your customers.
I don’t understand how continuing to run the same 15 international stories from the wire that people already read two days ago is a good business decision. If that’s all you’re doing and you’re simultaneously crabbing at me that you deserve to survive and I owe you my time, well, sorry, I don’t owe you anything.
That’s the other part of this that we haven’t really talked about, which is that newspaper companies have spent the last 20 years screaming at their customers that they suck.
So you know, don’t call me up and tell me I don’t value journalism. In my nonexistent spare time, I raise money for journalism. But these newspapers literally didn’t do their jobs. If I go to a bagel shop and it poisons me, I will not go there again. And that bagel shop can put up all the signs that it wants about how you owe me your business because I’m local, but you gave me salmonella.
This is the thing. Newspapers don’t know how to pivot, and this is a real problem. Their corporate ownership prevents them from doing so.
You can pretend you are independent, but there is still a CEO. There are still people who control the money. So talk all you want about changes and bold new directions, but if someone doesn’t fund those directions, they go nowhere. And some ideas are empowered, but the real question is who are the voices that they are empowering? What are they empowered to do?
Lyz Lenz is a former columnist for The Cedar Rapids Gazette and the author of Belabored: A Vindication of the Rights of Pregnant Women and God Land: A Story of Faith, Loss and Renewal in Middle America. She lives in Iowa and her writing has appeared in the Columbia Journalism Review, the Washington Post and the New York Times. You can subscribe to her newsletter “Men Yell at Me” — where this interview originally ran — here.