Outside Kansas City a classic newspaper tale is being rewritten
Transcription
Outside Kansas City a classic newspaper tale is being rewritten
IN THE NEWSROOM Citizens and tourists alike have embraced the new Luminary’s retro tone and look. The paper’s focus is on development and growth, city leaders, local schools, merchants and “Luminaries.” BACK TO THE FUTURE Outside Kansas City a classic newspaper tale is being rewritten — and redesigned. The story of the Parkville Luminary by Publisher Mark Vasto T he Vice President of the United States, David Rice Atchison, first attempted to purchase the printing press of The Industrial Luminary in 1855 and was rebuffed. The Luminary, published by a man named Col. George S. Park, had carved a niche for itself in the small Missouri River port town of Parkville just outside Kansas City. In fact, the newspaper was considered one of the most influential newspapers west of the Mississippi. An opportunist and capitalist who had purchased most of the land that became Parkville through an Army pension he had earned fighting off the Mexican army in Texas, Park dreamed of building Parkville into a thriving hub of commerce. To that end, he intended to lead by example. He plotted all of the town’s original lots, planted orchards, arranged for train tracks to run through the town, built and operated the first schools, hotel, quarry, and furniture store and even served as the town’s first postmaster. Most importantly, Park had the newspaper. Park knew Atchison’s offer was disingenuCONTINUED ON PAGE 12 www.snd.org | WINTER 2005 | Design Journal No. 97 11 IN THE NEWSROOM CONTINUED FROM PAGE 11 ous. The newspaper championed westward expansion, and even though Park owned a slave, his editorials were considered to be of the abolitionist bent. This became too much for Atchison, and he made it clear that his intent in purchasing the newspaper press was to put The Luminary out of business. Park could not bear to be left without a voice. Besides, he had nearly 1,000 subscribers to take care of. His angry reply was one of defiance: “There is not money enough to suppress the Luminary!” A few weeks later, Atchison tried a different tack. He purchased some whiskey and ordered a group of his hired hands, known as “The Blue Lodge Regulators,” to throw Park’s press in the river, scatter his type, tar and feather him and ride him out of Parkville on a rail. Park’s sense of timing did not fail him – he was out of town when the Regulators arrived, but the press was indeed thrown in the river, his type was scattered, and a decree promising to kill him if he ever returned to the town hung on the post office door. Park vowed that the paper would return someday, and even though he was allowed to return to the city in later years (he still owned all of the property), the Luminary remained a distant memory and a sour taste in his mouth until he died in 1893, his vow to return the paper unfulfilled. For reasons that every reporter or associate publisher readily identifies with, I decided to strike out on my own and publish a small-town newspaper in June 2004. Platte County, where Parkville is located, is a unique place, a place where time has literally stood still since after the Civil War. The county backed the South, and after the war, to the victors went the spoils: Kansas City grew into the dominant city and the Platte County dwellers were content to be left alone. Each little city became a fiefdom in and unto itself, each one developing a unique sense of architecture and civic pride. In recent years, the area, known as the Northland in the Kansas City region, has grown. The major airport operates here, and quaint towns like Parkville became sought-after tourist destinations. In Parkville, commercial and residential development skyrocketed and in recent years, the population has grown more than 300 percent. I had reported on several events in the city for an area newspaper, and each time I couldn’t help but wonder why every other small town in the area had their own beloved newspaper, but Parkville did not. This became even more puzzling when you considered that Parkville had the best demographics in the entire Kansas City 12 Design Journal No. 97 | WINTER 2005 | www.snd.org Col. George S. Park dreamed of building Parkville into a commerce hub. He plotted the town’s lots, built schools and post offices, planted orchards and arranged for the railroad to run through town. The newspaper was a labor of love that was shuttered in a political power struggle. Mark Vasto brought the paper back to life. At nearly 80, reporter Nancy Jack is a true classic — snapping off reports with very little emotion or editorializing. She’s been reporting in Parkville for nearly 50 years. region. The residents here have the best education (Parkville is home to Park University), their historic downtown was thriving and they made the most money. They were a natural fit for a newspaper. Perhaps I was looking for an excuse to start a newspaper when I visited the university archives and asked the archivist if she knew what the town’s first newspaper was called. She laughed, told me all about Col. Park and pointed to the bound volume on a table in the corner. The Industrial Luminary was printed on linen, and was perfectly preserved. A newspaper history buff, I could easily tell that it was a labor of love: Park had created the newspaper he had always wanted to read. Across the top of the newspaper ran the flag “A NEWSPAPER PUBLISHED WEEKLY FOR THE FARMER, MECHANIC, MERCHANT, POLITICIAN IN THE NEWSROOM To execute the retro look, the paper went with Clarendon for main headlines, a custom sans-serif for secondary and subheads and a version of Garamond for body type. The pages are constructed with a vertical stress and very little photography is used. AND THE FAMILY CIRCLE.” I immediately merged my dream of starting the weekly newspaper I had always wanted to publish with his vow of one day returning the Luminary to Parkville. Two months later, complete with graphics scanned from the original, The Parkville Luminary hit the streets in time for the annual street festival and the mayor announced its return with exuberance from the parade dais. The Luminary is designed to look like the city it covers. Parkville is a turn of the century river town, so we settled on a retro style that probably best mirrors the 1930-1945 era of American journalism, but basically sprung from the imagination of myself and the paper’s initial art director Tom Sunshine (who now handles our online version). Our flag pays homage to the original Luminary, but is slightly reworked to read “A NEWSPAPER PUBLISHED WEEKLY FOR THE RESIDENT, MERCHANT, STUDENT, AND THE FAMILY CIRCLE.” We changed it for several reasons: for one, there are no more farmers left in the area, and because my personal journalistic motto is that I do not write for politicians (I’ve mainly covered local governments over the years). We chose a flaming torch as our logo accompanied by the motto “The Luminary Sheds Light.” We chose the Clarendon family for our major headline type, a custom sans-serif font that mimics old linotype for subheads or secondary headlines, and we chose a tightly condensed version of Garamond for the body type. The newspaper is laid out with a predominantly vertical slant. It seems that most designers are taught to run stories horizontally these days, like a book, and to never leave gutters. We run the paper on a narrow web and have six columns and we happily leave gutters all over the place, stripping the stories up and down as opposed to left and right. Our reporting focus is on development and growth, actions of city leaders, profiles of local “Luminaries,” business-related issues facing merchants, school board actions and crime. We never run profiles of local businesses or advertisers (but we do run pictures of ribbon cuttings), and we are not a free circulation newspaper. We sell for 25 cents at the news racks, where we typically sell out in days. The retro style has been the biggest reason for this, in my opinion. It looks like a souvenir, so even if we’re writing about a mundane local issue, tourists still grab copies. I think our substance also matches our style. Our headlines are, at times, ridiculously bold. A chamber of commerce award may warrant a six-column, all cap, “MAN LANDS ON THE MOON” type of CONTINUED ON PAGE 14 www.snd.org | WINTER 2005 | Design Journal No. 97 13 IN THE NEWSROOM In a time-tested reflection of the community, the paper’s mission remained nearly intact after almost 150 years, replacing farmers with residents, mechanics with students and definitely not catering to the politician. CONTINUED FROM PAGE 13 headline in The Luminary. I believe our reporting is authentically classic, too: our reporter, Nancy Jack, is nearly 80 years old and has been reporting in town for nearly half a century. She snaps off reports with very little of the emotion or editorializing found in many of today’s newspapers. We’re light on photography, almost by design. I’ve always been taught to put tons of faces in the newspaper, that it builds good will. I suppose that makes sense, but in reality, the pictures almost always turn out to be a picture of a few people, standing in poor lighting, holding a plaque or certificate you can’t read. I never understood why community papers felt the need to do that. I don’t believe that helps sell newspapers. At The Luminary, we create custom engravings of the people we write about with the aim of turning every time we put someone’s face in the paper into an event. I had always planned to be more of a gracious host in my editorials, welcoming people to that week’s issue, pointing out all of the great content. I didn’t want to be the proverbial “800-pound gorilla.” Reading over the old Luminary, I really got to liking Col. Park’s “take no prisoner” style and I have to admit that I’ve been influenced by it. I like to think I stop just before losing credibility, and that many people know it’s actually satirical, but in any event, the characterization seems to have struck a few chords. I’ve battled many politicians, had more than one person threaten me with lawsuits, but I reason that it’s only because people aren’t used to seeing a local newspaper take politicians to task anymore. Speaking of Park, we often reprint his old 14 Design Journal No. 97 | WINTER 2005 | www.snd.org editorials, many of which are still relevant today. The aforementioned archivist also contributes regular historical features about the city and the local legend, 85-year-old voice of the Kansas City Chiefs Bill Grigsby contributes a decidedly un-pc weekly column. We publish exclusive content from the PGA Tour, and a local ESPN contributor allows us to republish his award-winning blog on the Kansas City Royals. We also run a challenging crossword, a free community calendar and even Flash Gordon, which I believe to be the most retro of all syndicated cartoons. We’re retro, but we’re also pretty cutting edge. We were the first newspaper in the country to partner with TextCaster, a service that lets us “narrowcast” to subscribers over cell phones, letting us break news faster than any daily newspaper or television newscast when it comes to local news. Our Web site uses the latest XHTML technology, and the technology director at the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel said our site is “up there with anything a paper with a circulation a hundred times the size of (ours) is doing.” In our first year, the paper has been incredibly well-received by residents. Nearly 35 percent of all homeowners in Parkville have requested or paid for subscriptions of The Luminary, and we routinely sell several hundred more at the racks, so we estimate that we have captured nearly 80 percent of the market share (we direct mail the rest to randomly selected postal routes). When you consider that no less than nine other newspapers purport to cover Parkville as well (we’re the only locally published newspaper, however), those numbers would seem to defy all conventions. Romanticism has it limits, however. The original Luminary office was located in a converted washroom (read: bathroom) on the second floor of an antique mall, but we’ve since moved into a small office at a local magazine publishing house in the downtown area. The entire operation is run off my laptop and I’m the only full-time employee, which probably explains why we turned a profit in only our fourth week and have been in the black every week since. I handle the ad sales and design, I lay out the paper each week, I assign the stories, write nearly 75 percent of the paper, deliver it to every news rack, send out all of the invoices and pay all of the bills. Our copy editor comes in once a week, our reporters and stringers are paid per story, and our Webmaster lives in New York City. Everything is done electronically and via the Internet. A Knight Ridder newspaper handles our printing. All of this positively astounds Nancy Jack and Bill Grigsby. They used typewriters when they started out (Bill still does, actually). Now, they marvel at how the paper comes out each week, even if I’m visiting friends on the coast. I joke and tell them that we have to be “the last of the newspapermen,” at least as they knew them. The funny thing is, we probably are. Competition for advertising is fierce and it’s getting harder and harder to gather information from the government. Either way, as long as we still have the will and the ability to write bold headlines, The Luminary shall never be suppressed. Mark Vasto is the sole owner and publisher of The Parkville Luminary. Prior to The Luminary, Vasto worked as a reporter for Knight Ridder and as a contracted writer for Turner Broadcasting. Vasto studied journalism at The University of Maryland. He and his wife Nancy live in Merriam, Kansas — 10 minutes from Parkville.