The warnings and elegies for the big-city newspaper have been done
to the point of exhaustion, and I don't want to beat a breaking-down
horse of a medium that I actually like. But the picture keeps worsening.
Yearly ad falloffs at many such places are accelerating past 15%.
At sundry recent points I've mistaken some twitch in the data for
a market bottom, and each time I've had newspaper executives tell
me I'm completely wrong. It's now time to start considering what
was once unthinkable: the post-newspaper media economy in our nation's
cities.
Oh, O.K., fine, big-city dailies are not all
going away tomorrow. And I'm not talking about newspapers in
smaller towns or national dailies à la The Wall Street Journal or The New York Times.
(While hardly immune to problems, both types face less gruesome
environments.) But the big-city guys are shrinking, and quickly,
in head count, revenue, and ambition. Executives have admitted
that some papers may not publish on certain days of the week. McClatchy
(MNI), which has a portfolio weighted to metro dailies, cut 1,400
jobs beginning in June and just announced plans to drop 1,150 more—and
this comes after the company had already cut 13% of its mid-2006
head count. Family owners are throwing up their hands, hanging
out For Sale signs on major newspapers amidst the worst selling
environment in, perhaps, ever. ("If there was someone who
wanted to buy newspapers and would pay a decent price, they could
buy a lot," admits one executive familiar with media markets.)
And remember: All these gears were in motion long before the current
financial crisis hit.
So who would profit from a disappearing newspaper?
Local TV and cable, for starters. The city daily is still the
biggest single media entity in virtually any market. Its main
pitch to advertisers is brutally simple: We have more craniums
to dent with your message than anyone else. After newspapers,
TV "is the last mass-branding
medium," says Gordon Borrell, CEO of local-media research
firm Borrell Associates, and thus will snap up dollars that would
have been newspapers'. And, while '08 will be lousy for local TV,
no one expects any major stations to fall off the dial anytime
soon.
In the largest and most affluent cities—Los Angeles, San
Francisco, New York, Chicago, Houston—look for the decline
of the newspaper to strengthen the lighter-than-air free upscale
glossy monthlies. For good or ill, the vacuous expanses of the
likes of Niche Media's Gotham and Los Angeles Confidential, which
are assembled with a very gentle hand for the very rich (or those
who like to gawk at them), are well-positioned to suck up additional
business from high-end retailers. I'd be more convinced that highly
targeted variations of these magazines—like those aimed at
local brides—would also flourish in a post-newspaper world,
had informed executives not doubted there's enough local dollars
for such entities.
Which brings me to a disquieting conclusion.
The obvious venues for all this displaced journalistic energy
are a gazillion new independent online endeavors, be they individual
blogs or bigger efforts like MinnPost.com. They will make for
fascinating media ecosystems within individual cities, and some
will become hits. It is much less certain whether ad dollars
will follow. Ultracheap classifieds site craigslist has simply "destroyed revenue," says
Dave Morgan, a former newspaper executive who founded behavioral
targeting firm Tacoda, and revenue that no longer exists won't
shift to new ventures. Others point out that key newspaper advertisers—local
auto dealers and realtors, say—already have many outlets
for ads online, not least of which are their own Web sites or national
sites such as Cars.com that serve up targeted ads.
For those sensing untapped riches in ads from
pizzerias and dry cleaners, well, good luck, says Borrell. "Local is a very
unorganized and dirty business," he says. "People look
at local as this one-ton gorilla, but in fact it's 2,000 one-pound
monkeys." And no publisher can afford to sit down with a city's
2,000 small fry to sell each a $50 ad. The bitterest pill of all
for newspaper denizens is that, while nature abhors a vacuum and
all that, in this case there may not even be one left to fill.