The number of newspaper titles (and total circulation) started to slide with the advent of radio, and every new medium—television, transistor radios, cable, the VCR, the Internet, satellite broadcasting, cell phones—has given it another shove. Business Weekreported last summer that daily newspapers' readership dropped to 55 percent of households in 2002 from a high of 81 percent in 1964. This newspaper industry Web page shows total circulation as basically static since 1960, even though the population of 180 million has increased by about 115 million.
Such statistics usually get cited at the beginning of a "woe is the daily newspaper" sermon, but surviving newspapers have proved fairly imaginative in rebundling themselves in the face of competition. When audiences flocked to radio (and later television), newspapers served them—reluctantly at first—by running comprehensive listings and writing about the programs. Newspaper companies repositioned themselves as "media" companies, acquiring broadcast licenses of their own. As television proliferated, newspapers avoided duplicating what readers had already learned from watching television and concentrated instead on explaining the deeper meaning of news events. Sometimes the most eager consumer of sports copy is somebody who watched or listened to the entire game. Having learned so much, he hungers to know even more.
One consolation for newspapers was that electronic media weren't invincible, either. AM radio suffered first when television displaced it as the general purveyor of entertainment and again in the early '70s when FM radio became the preferred music channel. AM was forced to reinvent itself as a talk and news medium. Broadcast television went through similar permutations when cable arrived, and satellite television is giving cable similar conniptions today.
In recent decades, no paper has so rebundled itself as assertively as the New York Times. The process began in the mid-1970s, as Executive Editor A.M. Rosenthal (abetted by Arthur Gelb) scandalized the staff and snooty readers by rebundling into the Times the traditional array of service journalism and specialty sections (weekend, food, home, science, Sunday magazine supplements, etc.) that wouldn't look out of place in a 1920s newspaper. The tinkering continued into this decade with the launch of the Circuits and Escapes sections. If only the Sunday Times ran a page of comics, it could reclaim the title of home entertainment center!
In the 1990s, the Times started to unbundle itself from the city and reconceive of itself as a national newspaper. If the national Wall Street Journal was the newspaper of the American businessman, the Times wanted to be the daily newspaper of the American elite—and the destination for high-ticket national advertisers. By the end of 2002, more than a third of its paid circulation came from outside the New York City market *, according to this company breakout. The Times obviously competes with the other national dailies—the Journal, USA Today, and the Financial Times—but increasingly its target will be the anemic local daily, such as the Cleveland Plain Dealer or the Oregonian. This leaves besieged local dailies with a number of alternatives: Fight for the established general news niche, go local where the Times can't match you, or go free like the Examiner.
Perhaps the grandest unbundling act of all time came when the Internet shook awake. Practically every newspaper moved an edition to the Web in the relentless chase for readers and advertisers, and today thousands of ad-supported U.S. and international newspapers can be read for free. At some not too distant point, broadcasters will feel the pinch of the media that they once shoved aside and be forced move their product down the wire and over the airwave. Magazines and radio will follow, too, and as all of these digital properties bump against one another one can only imagine what feats of bundling and unbundling they'll perform to distinguish themselves from one another.
The moral of today's story, then, is that nobody's niche is safe and all the dancers must keep moving. Which brings us back to the Washington Examiner: Given the history of media, the dynamism markets, and all the shifting technology, does Philip Anschutz know something the rest of us don't? Do rich ZIP codes really need the tightly edited, free read on newsprint that they can already get faster and fresher for free on the Web?
If he commits himself to losing $10 million a year on his Examiners, we'll only have to wait 520 years to find out.