Newspapers: The Good, The Bad … and Not Just the Ugly

When Gerri Peterson was wrapping up her college degree, she had no idea she’d soon be running a newspaper. 

“My dream job fell into my lap,” she says. 

After graduating in December, she spent six months shadowing the retiring publisher of the Hooker County Tribune in Nebraska. By the time she was 22, she wasn’t just reporting the news—she owned the paper.

In Louisiana, Craig Franklin had a different path, but a similar sense of calling. He’d been connected to the Jena Times in Louisiana most of his life. His father ran it for 54 years, and when he passed away, Franklin knew what was at stake. Rather than risk the paper being sold to a chain that might not honor its editorial standards or community roots, he stepped in and bought it himself.

Amy Johnson, had “zero background,” when she bought the Springview Herald in Nebraska. The husband-wife team of Mike Wiggins and Erin McIntyre, who worked together at the Grand Junction Sentinel in Colorado – decided to go to a smaller community and “bet” on themselves, buying the Ouray County Plaindealer. Carrie Pitzer went from working at a Nebraska newspaper, to starting an online news site, to buying her hometown newspaper, to owning multiple titles in the state. Joey and Lindsey Young not only bought multiple newspapers in Kansas, they decided to restart another one in Joey’s hometown. 

These aren't rare, feel-good anecdotes. These are real people making real investments in local journalism—and doing it successfully.

Submitted Photos

Whether covering community events like state track or spotlighting the fire department during training exercises, Carrie Pitzer is a familiar presence across Nebraska communities—capturing photos and sharing the news through print, online platforms, and social media channels.

Submitted photos

Gerri Peterson, her family, and the Hooker County Times are a cornerstone of the Nebraska community. Her mother even helps insert papers during the holidays. Remarkably, the paper has more subscribers than there are residents in the county.

Submitted Photos

Joey Young and his wife, Lindsey, do more than publish newspapers—they actively engage with their Kansas communities by hosting events like their popular Beer Friday video series and organizing concerts such as Blues, Brews, and Barbecue.

 

Submitted Photos

From Jena, Louisiana, to Springfield, Nebraska, the power of local news brings people together. In Louisiana, Craig Franklin and his family stay connected through their community paper, while in Nebraska, Amy Johnson and Kelsi McGee do the same—keeping neighbors informed and engaged one story at a time.

But these stories often go untold. 

A recent Columbia Journalism Review article lamented that small-town newspapers are struggling to sell — an issue that absolutely deserves attention. But the piece left something important on the cutting room floor. 

Despite being given examples of successful transitions and interviewing owners who spoke to their success, the final article leaned entirely into the “doom and gloom” angle. 

And this isn’t about piling on CJR. It’s just one example in a long line of media coverage that treats community journalism like a relic—rather than a living, evolving institution. 

Yes, some papers are struggling to sell. That’s true. But it’s also true that people are buying newspapers, rebuilding newsrooms, and serving their towns with renewed purpose.

What’s missing from so many of these stories is nuance. That’s what this article aims to offer.

Why Newspapers Close

Closures rarely come from a single cause. Instead, it’s a tangle of economic and logistical stress—especially in small towns.

Corporate consolidation hasn’t helped. Alden Global Capital, for example, is known for buying papers, slashing staff, and extracting profits—often leaving behind ghost newsrooms. Even well-intentioned chains like Gannett, the nation’s largest owner, struggle to serve rural markets. Their models, built for urban scale, often leave just one staffer covering entire counties.

Yet ownership structure is only part of the problem. 

According to Young,  many stories mourning the loss of a newspaper fail to mention something more foundational: the health of the town itself. 

“If your town is dying, your newspaper is dying,” Young said, pointing out that in many cases, the newspaper is one of the last active businesses still standing on Main Street. 

As rural populations are making a slight rebound after a decade of decline, and more residents shift to online shopping, local businesses close or scale back, which in turn reduces advertising revenue—the lifeblood of most community papers. Fewer sales mean less sales tax. Less sales tax means fewer services. It’s a cycle that impacts not just news, but the very viability of the community.

Another factor complicating the future is succession. In many cases, longtime owners are ready to sell — but struggle to find buyers willing (or able) to pay what the paper once seemed worth. For some, the price is tied not just to the business, but to decades of sweat equity and emotional investment. Meanwhile, the market has changed. That disconnect can lead to a stall: papers don’t sell, and then eventually, they fold.

Rising production costs only deepen the strain. The price of newsprint, ink, plates, and other consumables has surged in recent years, while subscription prices have barely budged compared to the cost of living. Newspapers are expected to deliver more—with less—and many simply can’t make the math work.

And then there’s the U.S. Postal Service. Many newspapers have shifted to mail delivery as the economics of private carriers and in-town routes became unsustainable. But even that solution is becoming unstable. Fewer distribution points, rising postage rates, and unpredictable service have made timely delivery a growing problem—especially for weeklies. 

Finally, there’s the issue of digital adoption. While the image of a small-town paper clinging to old habits can be overplayed, there’s truth to the idea that late adoption can kill a good newspaper. 

“Small-town newspapers need to evolve,” says Franklin, owner of The Jena Times in Louisiana. Franklin, who took over from his father after 54 years at the helm, has expanded the paper’s digital presence—including its website, e-editions, and social media—to stay relevant. “If small-town newspapers are going to succeed, they must learn to embrace the digital world.”

Another factor: The whole media landscape is splintered. The ad dollars that once supported local journalism are now scattered across everything from influencers to streaming services.

Some closures stem from mergers between neighboring papers—particularly when their readership areas overlap. Whether that’s a net gain or loss depends on how the merger is handled. Done thoughtfully, it can create efficiencies and strengthen the overall product. Handled poorly, it can erode trust and fracture communities.

The reasons newspapers close are rarely about one dramatic decision. More often, they’re about a slow erosion of economic, logistical, and leadership stability. And behind every closure is a town that becomes just a little less connected to itself.

It’s time to stop writing one-sided industry obituaries, and focus on writing business plans. 

Local-Community Ownership is a Factor

Local ownership isn’t just a romantic idea — it’s a proven model for success. 

While large newspaper chains and investment groups often struggle to serve small towns effectively, publishers who live in the communities they cover tend to build stronger relationships, more trust, and better journalism.

There’s data to back that up. A 2022 study by the Medill School of Journalism at Northwestern University found that local newspapers with on-site ownership were significantly more likely to survive market shocks than papers owned by absentee corporate chains. Community-owned or independently operated papers also tended to retain more staff, produce more original content, and receive higher levels of reader engagement and advertiser support.

That doesn’t mean you have to live in a town of 800 to successfully serve it—but it does mean you need to show up, be visible, and stay accountable.

“If you aren’t part of the community and out and about, the newspaper will show that,” says Peterson. It’s a sentiment echoed across the board.

Johnson puts it simply: “Keep news local.” It’s a mantra that has guided her paper’s coverage—and earned her the trust of her readers.

It’s also proof that successful ownership doesn’t depend on scale. Pitzer has acquired 10 newspapers and merged them into four. Joey and Lindsey Young own four. Whether someone runs a single weekly or a growing cluster of publications, the themes of success are consistent: be accessible, stay rooted, and serve with intention.

Mike Wiggins and Erin McIntyre, along with their dog Walter Cronkite, have prioritized not just strong reporting but honest dialogue with their readers.

“Our mantra from day one has been that even small places deserve good journalism,” Wiggins said. That includes taking on difficult or controversial stories—but doing so with transparency. “We try to give our readers a peek behind the curtain,” he says, explaining the why and how of their reporting so that trust isn't just assumed—it's earned.

Knowing your audience is at the core of it all. Community journalism succeeds when publishers understand what their readers want—and deliver it. That often starts with being present, but it goes deeper than that. Some owners conduct formal focus groups; the Youngs host weekly community hangouts at their newspaper, where readers are invited to share thoughts over snacks and a few adult beverages.

Business acumen matters, too. Journalism may be a public good—but it’s also a business. 

“That’s not the ‘fun’ part like writing stories or taking photos,” Pitzer said, “but too many publishers aren’t watching revenue and expenses each week.” The fundamentals of financial management—cost control, ad sales, growth strategy—are essential. But newspaper economics aren’t like other industries.

One of the most common mistakes, for instance, is treating reporters purely as an expense. Good journalism is what drives readership. Readership is what drives advertising. And advertising is what drives sustainability. Without strong reporting, the rest eventually crumbles.

At its core, community ownership works not just because of proximity—but because of values. These publishers aren’t just managing a product. They’re stewarding a relationship—with readers, with advertisers, and with the future of their towns.

Why It All Matters

If you were to list the most relevant institutions in any town — especially a small one — what would be on it? Schools. Grocery stores. Banks. Local government. Healthcare providers. These are the staples of community life. But how far down the list would you put the local newspaper?

It shouldn’t be too far. Because there’s growing evidence about what happens when a newspaper disappears from a town. Taxes go up. Government spending increases. Corruption becomes more likely. Schools perform worse. Even community health outcomes decline.

Local newspapers have long played an outsized role in the news ecosystem, accounting for more than 50% of all original reporting despite making up less than 25% of the system itself. So when a local newspaper folds, it’s not just a print edition that disappears—it’s the loss of foundational reporting that informs the rest of the ecosystem.

But it goes beyond watchdog journalism. Community newspapers are connectors. They bridge the space between neighbors, generations, and institutions. That might be sharing honor roll lists, or covering town tragedies with care. It might be offering context and insight into city council meetings or school board decisions. It’s not always flashy. But it matters.

“For the most part, I doubt the average citizen realizes the importance of community newspapers,” says Franklin. “If they have a good one, it is taken for granted. It is only after [a newspaper] closes their doors for good that people realize what they had.”

Some argue social media is a replacement—but it lacks a few essential ingredients: trust, transparency, and tangibility. 

“Social media—a growing marketplace of misinformation and partisanship—continues to demonstrate it is antithetical to the idea of bringing people together, finding common ground, or operating from a basis of fact,” said Wiggins.

We also have to be honest: not every town will be able to support a newspaper forever. Rural flight is real. In some places, there simply may not be enough people or local businesses to sustain one. Or as Bo Sacks article eloquently penned: “Print isn’t dead. It’s just getting more selective about where it lives.”

“It’s actually a very exciting time to be involved in newspapers,” says Pitzer. “Technology is always changing things, but that’s a fun challenge. If you nurture your community, it will support you financially. Newspapers are not dying. They are changing… but the future is very bright and exciting.”

What makes it exciting is the passion behind the papers. “We may be small, but we’re mighty,” says Peterson. “…We love what we do, and we’re very passionate about it.”

Even if you’re not in the newsroom, you can still be part of the solution. You can subscribe. You can advertise. You can support the very institutions that keep your community informed and connected.

Because when it comes to the news you receive, you're going to pay for it one way or another. Either through vetted, quality community journalism—or through the cost of a disconnected community left to fend for itself without a local voice.

Jerry Raehal is the Chief Growth Officer at OnePress, which is the marketing arm of the Nebraska Press Association. You can contact him at jerry@onepressne.com