YouTube – 1981 primitive Internet report on KRON

This newscast from KRON in San Francisco in 1981 has been making the rounds recently. It’s labeled “primitive Internet report,” but what it presents is actually one example of the many pre-Internet efforts that the newspaper industry made to try to plan for an online future — and stake out its own turf in that forthcoming world.

This particular example has a lot of personal resonance because the newspaper involved is the SF Examiner. The video’s now antediluvian-looking images have a Proustian quality for me: In 1981 I was just graduating from college, but five years later I’d be going to work in the newsroom you see in this video. Those green-on-black screens you can see the reporters working on (“Coyotes,” they were called) strained my eyes for a decade. Dave Cole, the guy who introduces the Examiner’s “experiment” in making its content available via modem to home computer users, was still there, working on the computerization of the paper’s operations; he went on to become a well known industry consultant.

In the video, you can hear Cole say, of the “Electronic Examiner” he was demonstrating, “We’re not in it to make money.” At the end, the announcer points out that an entire edition of the paper takes two hours to download, at a $5/hour cost — making this “telepaper” little competition for the paper edition. “For the moment at least,” the reporter declares, over the image of a sidewalk news vendor hawking the afternoon edition, “this fellow isn’t worried about being out of a job.”

Though the piece does say that “Engineers now predict the day will come when we get all our newspapers and magazines by home computer,” its underlying message is — Don’t worry. This crazy computer stuff isn’t going to change anything much for now. And indeed it took 10 years for any sort of online service to become even remotely popular. Almost 30 years later, newspapers are still in business; some are even still sold by guys on sidewalks. It has taken this long for the technology to transform the newspaper biz in a big way.

What you can see at work in this clip is the “computers will replace trucks!” perspective that continued to hobble the news industry’s online efforts for many years. The “Electronic Examiner’s” use of the computer as an efficient transport mechanism for the same old product was understandable; it was a Herculean effort in 1981 just to get this stuff to work (and there were precious few customers/users).

But even as the downloads sped up and the connect-time costs dropped, the industry held onto that approach, instead of coming to grips with the fundamentally different dynamics of a new communications medium. What had made sense in the early days over time became a crippling set of blinders. The spirit of experimentation that the Examiner set out with in 1981 dried up, replaced by an industry-wide allergy to fundamental change.

“Let’s use the new technology,” editors and executives would say, “but let’s not let the technology change our profession or our industry.” They largely succeeded in resisting change. Now it’s catching up with them.

More on this stuff from Jeff Jarvis (who was there at the Examiner in the early ’80s, before me) and Susan Mernit.

RIP John Mortimer

I was sad to read of the recent death of John Mortimer — playwright, author, bon vivant and barrister. Here’s the story of my own extremely distant connection with him.

I never had much luck applying for internships in college. Part of it was, I’m sure, the times (the late ’70s and early ’80s were almost as brutal a time in publishing as the present) and part of it was my own belief that self-promotion was uncool and my talents spoke for themselves. But my junior year I did finally land an internship reporting and writing for the American Lawyer monthly — something I now recognize as a startup company led by a young journalist named Steven Brill. My heart lay in writing arts criticism, but I had a good head for investigative reporting and I knew a little about the law, so I took the job and got a few clips, and got to know a colorful (and incredibly talented) gang of future luminaries like Jim Cramer, Jill Abramson, James Stewart, Connie Bruck and many others.

John Mortimer

John Mortimer

I wrote stories about lawyers and law firms, but I really wanted to write about playwrights and artists. So when I started freelancing full time after graduation I pitched the editors at American Lawyer with ideas for pieces about the occasional overlap cases — people like Louis Auchincloss and John Mortimer. In 1982 Mortimer’s wonderful autobiography Clinging to the Wreckage had just come out in the US, and Mortimer was doing interviews in NY, so I got to meet him. He decided that our interview should take place at Maxwell’s Plum, the legendary but by then (to me) tacky East Side cafe and singles bar, because he’d once set a scene in a story there but had never actually set foot inside. So the tape of my otherwise delightful interview with this drily charming subject was rendered nearly untranscribeable by the loud chatter of the surrounding wannabe-socialite gaggle. At that stage of my career I was still sometimes intimidated by the prospect of interviewing writers I admired; Mortimer was the kind of conversationalist who got me over that generously and quickly. The American Lawyer piece from 1982 isn’t online but a second interview I did with him years later, at Salon, still is.

Here’s Charles McGrath’s Times appreciation. McGrath, like nearly every other obit writer, reminds us of Mortimer’s label as a “champagne socialist,” one that he embraced. He may have lived just long enough to see its utility return for a new era of cheerful crusading on the left.

Obama’s hard words

“No drama Obama” found his drama this morning in the best possible way. Given the weight of expectations on his shoulders today, this wasn’t a foregone conclusion. I’m not sure exactly how one rises to such an occasion, how one finds the words to fit such times, but for me at least, our new president did.

One clue I realized as I listened to Obama’s words: this speech, stern in many ways and uningratiating by design, stuck to hard nouns and verbs. There was little flowery rhetoric. The sentences had weight not by being heavy but by being solid. In that solidity, I heard the cadences of Whitman and Melville, American voices full of rough power rooted in the experience of nature and the effort demanded by the settling of the land.

In speaking of “the risktakers, the doers, the makers of things,” Obama found words that could encompass both the laborers who have represented the old school of the Democratic Party and the entrepreneurs and digital innovators who represent its newer supporters. In telling us to it was time to “put away childish things,” he may have been referring to the bitter divisions of the past decade, the political squabbling that has diverted so much precious energy and time. “Childish” might well describe the stupidity of the Clinton impeachment drama; but — painful though it may be for many of us to accept — it might also refer to the passion for a settling of accounts with the malefactors of the Bush administration that so many of the new president’s supporters share. We’ll have to see, over time, exactly how Obama defines this “new era of responsibility.”

There was a roll-up-our-sleeves quality to the whole address that was sober without being grim. I’ll want more time to digest the whole thing. Right now, I’m left with the picture of Malia, the president’s older daughter, pulling out her own digital camera to take a picture right as the TV camera was trained on her. It was a little pointer to the future, a gesture for a new generation that will be taking charge of its media in ways we can’t yet imagine.

“Write it yourself” is Jay Rosen’s sharp advice to the new president. He means, “Write that new White House blog yourself” — but also, in that moving-finger-writes way, write the whole story, the big drama of the next four years, yourself. Really, it’s what each of us needs to do.

Shafer’s this-ain’t-the-Web dream world

Jack Shafer seems to be locked into the same mental cul-de-sac as David Carr when it comes to the future of news consumption. In his Slate column responding to what he calls Carr’s “excellent” challenge to invent the “iTunes for news,” Shafer argues that publishers should invent their own standard and bypass potential Apple-like aggregators (the role Amazon has taken for its Kindle reader):

Just as the iPhone and other smartphones obliterated the PDA category, mobile PCs and smartphones used as electronic readers could render the Kindle obsolete overnight if publishers joined forces to create technical standard for over-the-air delivery of books and publications.

That’s my bold in the quote, because that phrase encapsulates the error in Shafer’s thinking. It is the same error that electronic publishers made in the early ’90s when they thought they could “repurpose” existing media on shiny CD-ROMs. It’s the same error that the early experimenters in motion pictures made when they pointed their cameras at the stage to record plays.

The future of news does not lie in “over-the-air delivery of books” and existing publications (newspapers, magazines). Books, newspapers and magazines work quite beautifully on paper. But they cannot be transposed into digital form as is. That’s why all the kludge-y attempts to provide a newspaper look-and-feel on screen (including one by the New York Times that Shafer inexplicably adores) are such disastrous failures, and will never become widely used products.

It is hugely unlikely that news and information as presently delivered in newspapers and magazines will be consumed as newspapers (or magazines) simply repackaged for download onto some device. Why? Because there already is a “technical standard” for “over-the-air delivery” of such news and information: it’s called the Web. And if netbooks become popular devices for consuming such news and information, as Shafer credibly argues, users will use them freely to assemble their news and information from the Web. If newspapers try to sequester their content into pay-only downloads, people will simply ignore their products. (Books are a somewhat different can of worms, but I’ll leave that for another post.)

Yet that is what Shafer is urging them to do. In his dreamworld, the newspaper and magazine publishers will secede from the Web and start charging users to read their products on netbook PCs via some proprietary interface. I’m not making this up:

By eschewing the Web browser, the Times Reader also sent the same message the nonbrowser interface for the iTunes sends: This isn’t the Web, dude. This isn’t free. You’re going to have to pay.

In 2009, it’s simply ludicrous to imagine that any such scheme could prosper. (The iTunes comparison doesn’t hold because music is a fundamentally different product from news and information.) But if you are clinging to the pipe-dream that news publishers can maintain their old profit margins, you have to convince yourself that this sort of approach could work. It’s a shame to think that some news companies will squander their dwindling resources on such desperation moves, when what they ought to be doing is accepting reality.

In reality, the old business model is disintegrating, and the public and the journalism profession need the business to figure out how to fund in-depth reporting and investigative journalism in the new digital world. The more energy the news industry wastes trying to repackage the dead old form in new, ill-fitting digital clothes, the fewer resources it will have to tackle the real challenge.

Carr’s “iTunes for news” already exists

David Carr is looking for a new business model for news, and says it needs an iTunes. Part of what he wants is to charge for the articles, and, you know, good luck with that. (Times Select, RIP.) But part of what he wants is simply the elusive new online revenue stream that will pay for the newsroom.

Well, it already exists. It’s called Google text ads. It’s ad revenue tailored specifically for the Web environment. It works, and it’s already bringing considerable sums in to many Web sites. It lets little guys and big guys play on the same field.

The problem is, it doesn’t bring in as much cash as newspapers want, or have traditionally expected. And of course, from the music companies’ perspective, neither does iTunes.

The news industry knows how to make money online, just like everybody else. It just doesn’t know how to make as much money as it used to offline. Carr’s piece is strangely silent on this obvious observation. For someone who is trying to think out loud about this situation, he is displaying a peculiar blind spot.

Unfortunately, as a result, his musing simply prolongs the day of reckoning for the industry. He continues to hold out hope for some elusive profit-generating magic formula, instead of helping the business face the reality of a new world in which there’s simply far less money to be made.

UPDATE: Jeff Jarvis’s comment: “The real fallacy in Carr’s delusion is that a news story or an opinion, like a song, is unique—that you can’t get it somewhere else and so you have to buy the original.”

Why second newspapers (used to) matter

I worked for a decade at the SF Examiner, a newspaper that was in a very similar position to the Seattle P-I, whose probable death-knell was sounded today when Hearst announced it would shut down the paper if it can’t sell it. The Examiner, too, was owned by Hearst, and it, too, was the “number two” paper in its community, and it, too, was perennially in financial distress, despite being part of the legal monopoly known as a Joint Operating Agreement. JOAs were the product of a Federal law called the Newspaper Preservation Act of 1970 that was intended to save “number two” newspapers from disappearing and leaving monopolies in their wake.

JOAs couldn’t really change the long-term dynamic of the news industry (lobbiers for the ludicrous idea of a federal newspaper bailout, take note!), but they saved some jobs and kept some troubled papers on artificial life support for a few decades. The main thing they accomplished was to preserve editorial competition. Two papers meant that there wasn’t just one person covering city hall but two. There wasn’t just one sportswriter covering the hometown team’s ups and downs but two. There wasn’t just one daily-paper theater critic at opening night, but (at least for the big shows) two.

San Francisco became a one-paper town nearly a decade ago when the Examiner basically disappeared. (There is still an Examiner in SF but it’s a freebie that makes little pretense to the sort of comprehensive coverage real old-fashioned papers aimed at. For example, as far as I can see its idea of entertainment coverage does not include local theater at all.) And I think the Chronicle, the surviving paper (now owned by the same Hearst Corp. that used to own the Examiner and that’s about to shut down the P-I), is the worse for being a monopoly.

In the competitive sport of journalism as in the competitive market of business, two is qualitatively different from one. When there’s just one person covering anything, human nature kicks in. It’s easy to cut corners and rest on your laurels. Once there’s someone breathing down your neck, everything’s different: You’ve got something to prove. If you screw up, it’s far more likely to come out.

Competition doesn’t always keep people honest. (In my era, there was the case of the Chronicle dance critic who filed a review of a performance panning a particular dancer who, it turned out, had gotten sick and never appeared onstage that evening. As I recall, even the Newspaper Guild couldn’t save that guy’s job.) But it greatly improves the likelihood of journalistic diligence.

Plainly, the long-fading era of any metropolis supporting more than one newspaper is drawing to its final close. Are we then going to face an onslaught of the lazy mediocrity of monopoly journalism? I think we might. But the climate today is wildly different from the late ’80s and early ’90s of my newsroom stint.

Sure, most reporters today have far fewer peers to compete against. But on the Web, their work is subjected to much wider, faster and closer scrutiny than ever before. The monopoly that newspapers are winning by surviving in one city, they’re losing all over again online. Whether it’s the national correspondent whose work can be instantly compared with that of every other publication’s coverage, or the local restaurant critic whose goofs are immediately pointed out by legions of foodie experts on the paper’s website or their own blogs, the local paper’s contributors can’t get away with the sort of coasting that monopolies used to allow. And that’s a relief.

A couple of links, before they get even older

  • Do as Experts Say, Not as They Do – WSJ.com. This little piece from the Journal will break your investing heart. You know all that good advice you read from the experts about diversifying, rebalancing your portfolio on a regular schedule, not thinking you can pick stocks, and so on? It seems that the gurus dispensing this advice do not follow it themselves. Even, yikes, John Bogle, who has always struck me as one of the heros with a head on his shoulders: he says he hasn’t rebalanced his own portfolio since 2000.
  • OEDIPUS THE KING (OF THE ROAD).

    This was kicking around last month. You might’ve seen it already. I hadn’t. “Daniel Nussbaum has retold the story of Oedipus using 154 of the more than 1 million California personalized license plates registered with the state’s Motor Vehicles Bureau.” A sample:

    ONCEPON ATIME LONG AGO IN THEBES IMKING. OEDIPUS DAKING.
    LVMYMRS. LVMYKIDS. THEBENS THINK OEDDY ISCOOL. NOPROBS.
    OKAY MAYBE THEREZZ 1LITL1. MOTHER WHERERU? WHEREAT MYDAD?

    Pretty great.