Booklist, the American Library Association’s monthly magazine, has given Death of the Daily News a great review. This is particularly good news because librarians typically use this magazine as a guide for what they buy to lend. Publishes September 2022. Pre-sales available now.
Communities with at least a little bit of wealth have local news, while those struggling economically also tend to be news deserts. That’s the perhaps-not-entirely-shocking finding of a recent report about news deserts from Northwestern University. Under the traditional news model, journalism depends on advertising for revenue – and advertising depends on local businesses.
I recently wrote about how two communities near Pittsburgh have the same name – Sewickley Borough, an upscale suburban community, and Sewickley Township, a poorer rural community – but vastly different types of local reporting…
“What worries me the most is that we have a growing divide in the U.S. around journalism that mirrors the divide we have politically, culturally, economically and even digitally,” Penny Abernathy, the lead study’s researcher, says. “The loss of news creates a crisis for not only our democracy but for society and community cohesion.”
In communities like Sewickley Township, the crisis in local news means that residents are losing touch and that political leaders face little accountability. People who attend public meetings often get frustrated and lost because they do not understand what’s going on. The government posts its meeting agendas and notes, but no one reports out the nuances or background information.
At the same time, people who are ill-informed share their opinions on social media — but often get the facts wrong.
How can this one little newspaper afford to provide so much coverage? Check out the ad at the bottom of the front page…
A newspaper that serves readers who might afford to purchase a $34.9M teardown in Palm Beach probably has enough of an economic base to support local journalism. The challenge remains how to bring back local reporting in all the communities whose readers cannot.
Death of the Daily News opens with an historic moment in the nation’s history involving a public debate between two future presidents:
Two first-term members of Congress, John F. Kennedy and Richard M. Nixon, boarded the Capitol Limited train at Washington’s Union Station on the Monday morning of April 21, 1947, headed to McKeesport, Pennsylvania, the economic and spiritual center of the Monongahela River Valley and home to 100,000 unionized industrial workers. As the two newest members of the House Labor and Education Committee, the lawmakers were scheduled to appear that night at the Penn-McKee Hotel before more than 100 people at an event sponsored by the local Junto Forum, a business-minded civic group.
Like much of the Mon Valley, the Penn-McKee Hotel has seen more glamorous days. The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette recently ran a story highlighting what has been lost in McKeesport, block by block. The closure of The Daily News takes place against this backdrop of a community in crisis.
Many news deserts exist in places that suffer a variety of economic losses. A study by Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism points out one more growing divide across America: Places that are relatively well-off tend to have robust local news while those that are struggling often also lack original journalistic reporting. Lead researcher Penny Abernathy put it like this:
“The people most likely to live without news are those in communities that need it the most, those that are economically struggling communities, those communities that have been traditionally underserved. We’ve had a collapse of the for-profit, business models that sustain local news organizations in those communities for a number of years.”
Community leaders in McKeesport have been trying to decide what to do with the Penn-McKee: Tear it down to remove the eyesore – or attempt to salvage what’s left? For now, the building remains standing, albeit with broken windows and graffiti. A historic market memorializing the day of the debate sits behind a chainlink fence.
Journalists often stand, correctly and confidently, behind the maxim that they want to tell stories – rather than be the story.
But when Pittsburgh journalists Kim Palmiero and Carmen Gentile saw a tragedy unfolding as Afghanistan’s government collapsed in August, they responded to the news by getting involved. They worked to help journalist Zubair Babakarkhail and his family leave the country, and now they are helping them settle in Pittsburgh.
The publishers of Postindustrial magazine had hoped to raise $10,000 for Zubair, but ended up with four times that amount. Now they are helping other Afghan families become American through Team Zubair. You can read more about this story here.
While it’s not our role to become the story, some situations require all of us to do more. If you want to help Palmiero and Gentile, you can find out more about their fundraising effort here.
Bill Nunn Jr. went into the Pro Football Hall of Fame this week in the same way that he lived – humble and full of praise for others.
The NFL will replay the induction ceremony for nine posthumous inductees on Saturday night, and it will show several video clips of the Steelers scout talking about how the team did “pretty well” in 1974 when it drafted five future Hall-of-Famers. He gives much of the credit, too, as he often did, to Coach Chuck Noll for developing the players Nunn discovered.
What felt unexpected about Wednesday night’s event in Canton was seeing Nunn immortalized in a bronze bust that the Hall reassured us will last for at least 40,000 years. When future generations look back at the NFL’s origin story, it will forever include Nunn’s remarkable contributions to identify Black college players who had gone unnoticed. The men drafted this weekend, and in future years, will know on whose shoulders they stand.
I will remain forever grateful to Nunn for taking a chance on meeting me and then spending hours to open up and share some of his many stories. We last talked the day before he suffered a stroke in the Steelers’ draft room before dying a week later on the eve of the 2014 NFL selection day. He talked then about how everyone is born and everyone dies – and half the stuff in between we try to forget.
I’m glad that forever now, we will have a place to remember the deeds Nunn quietly contributed to journalism, to Black culture across America, to the game of football and to the countless lives he touched. Including mine.
As a contributor finalist for the Pro Football Hall of Fame, Bill Nunn Jr. finally has started getting the widespread recognition he’s due for the Steelers’ successes over the years and for the work he did to recognize so many talented Black athletes. I have been gratified to play a small role in helping people discover Nunn by writing about him in my book, The Color of Sundays.
I’m pleased that Sheldon Ingram of WTAE-TV was able to spend a little time this week reporting on Nunn’s story and the Hall of Fame announcement on Saturday, Feb. 6. You can see his report here…
Traveling throughout the United States in the early 1830s, French social scientist Alexis de Tocqueville saw something unique about American life that separated it from what he had witnessed among Europe’s monarchies:
“In aristocratic countries, you group readily around one man,” he wrote, “and in democratic countries around a newspaper, and it is in this sense that you can say that newspapers there [in America] take the place of great lords.”
The unsettling moments we Americans witnessed on Wednesday as a mob inspired by President Trump stormed the U.S. Capitol Building and interrupted the democratic process, underscore the need to sustain and restore journalism, especially at the local level.
Free expression and the open debate of ideas – rather than violence and the taking up of arms – underpins our democracy. It reminds us of who are as a people. It’s literally the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, guaranteeing our rights to religion, assembly, redress of grievances, free speech and, yes, the press. Read more…
Whether Bill Nunn Jr. makes the Pro Football Hall of Fame or not, he surely led a life of adventure, overcoming challenges and making the most of the opportunities around him. Any one of these highlights below would be remarkable for most of us, but he lived them all.
And, above all, he lived a life of love. On the same day the Pro Football Hall of Fame selected him as a finalist in the contributor category for the Class of 2021, his widow, Frances, passed away. As with so much about Nunn’s life, you can’t make up this stuff.
Home: Nunn grows up in Pittsburgh’s Hill District, which is the center of Black life in the city. His father works as managing editor for one of the nation’s largest Black newspapers, the Pittsburgh Courier, with a dozen editions all around the United States. Athletes and entertainers who cannot stay in public hotels end up in the home: Joe Louis, Count Basie, Stepin Fetchit, etc.
Basketball: Nunn plays in high school with the first Black player drafted by the NBA, Chuck Cooper, and he plays in college (an HBCU, West Virginia State) with the first Black to play in an NBA game, Earl Lloyd (due to a quirk of scheduling, Lloyd played before Cooper). When he graduates college, Nunn has options to try out for the NY Knicks and become the league’s first black player, to join the Harlem Globetrotters, or to become a newspaper reporter. Nunn takes the path he believes will bring him the most money and fame – becoming a newspaper reporter (if only this was still true).
Journalism: Nunn joins the Pittsburgh Courier as a sports reporter, and one of his first assignments is to cover the Negro leagues’ East-West all-star game at Chicago’s Comiskey Park. After Jackie Robinson and other stars go to MLB, the Negro leagues start into decline and Nunn catches the end of it. He works at the newspaper with Wendell Smith, the reporter who convinced Branch Rickey to integrate baseball and who then traveled everywhere with Robinson in his first year (Smith is the character in the movie 42 who reports from the stands with a typewriter on his lap). At first, Nunn sits in the stands to cover the first black players in Major League Baseball too. Eventually, he beomes the first Black reporter to sit in the press box at Pittsburgh’s Forbes Field.
Baseball: After the Pirates win the 1960 World Series, Nunn is in the locker room with right fielder Roberto Clemente, who’s angry because he thinks (with some justification) that the sports reporters passed him over for MVP because of his dark skin and Spanish speaking. As a Puerto Rican, Clemente speaks only broken English – and he never thought of himself as Black until he came to the United States (FWIW, Clemente plays as big a role for Latino ballplayers as Robinson does for Black ones). Nunn agrees to drive Clemente to the airport and escorts him out of the locker room by a back door. Clemente carries a trophy he received as the fans’ favorite player, and when he steps outside, the crowds mob him. By the time they get to the car, Clemente is beaming about how much the fans love him.
Segregation: The following spring, Nunn covers the Pirates at their training camp in Florida. He knows that while the white players will stay with their families at a beachfront hotel in Bradenton, the Black players, including Clemente, must stay in a private home across town on their own. They don’t eat with the team and they cannot socialize with the team. Nunn writes a series of stories exposing the hypocrisy of how players throughout baseball face deep discrimination during spring training. It leads to major reforms with teams threatening to leave their host cities throughout the South unless Black and white players can be together. This leads to the creation of Dodgertown and other places where the teams can control the treatment of their players, despite segregation rules throughout the South.
HBCU Football: Nunn eventually takes over the job of creating the Pittsburgh Courier’s Black College All-America Team. He travels more than 12,000 miles each fall, flying and driving through the deep South to see as many games and players as possible. Most often, he ends up staying on campus with the college president, athletic director or coaches. Each campus is like a world on its own just for Black people – with parties, dinners and sporting events that are not open to whites. Nunn starts identifying players before they reach the NFL, such as Paul “Tank” Younger, a running back at Lousiana’s Grambling University, who goes on to become the league’s first HBCU star with the LA Rams.
Gala: Initially the Black College All-Americans simply appear in the newspaper, but Nunn gets the idea to host the players for a gala event each fall. At the first dinner in 1964, the coach of Prairie View A&M calls out the Steelers’ owner Art Rooney and other whites for refusing to let Black athletes play quarterback; his star quarterback, Jimmy Kearney, was drafted by the Detroit Lions but forced to play defensive back. The Steelers a year earlier had drafted Roy Curry but also refused to let him play quarterback; Rooney said afterwards that the moment opened his eyes to the injustice. In 1971, Nunn invited Cassius Clay to attend, knowing the boxer had just changed his name to Muhammad Ali and had been convicted for objecting to the Vietnam War draft over a religious exemption. Ali strode across the plush red carpet, shook hands with the athletes, praised them and then challenged anyone who felt “bad” enough to swing at him. None did.
Civil Rights: As Nunn travels throughout the South to watch HBCU football games, Civil Rights events happen all around him, like the murder of Emmett Till in Mississippi and the Christmastime Klan murders of Harry and Harriette Moore, Civil Rights workers near Orlando, Fla. These situations create awkward moments, like when Nunn visits Mississippi Vocational College for the first time in 1956: He meets up with a Black friend whose white father operates as the biggest bootlegger in a dry county. In the place where Till was murdered for catcalling a white woman, Nunn ends up months later riding in the front seat of a white man’s car next to his wife – and that turned out to be acceptable.
Steelers: The Rooney family decides in 1965 to hire Nunn – but he has no interest in coming to work for the Steelers. Nunn says the team never welcomed him into its press box, never paid attention to the Courier’s Black College All-Americans and never reached out to him before. He tells Dan Rooney the team will never be a winner. But the Rooneys say they are sincere, and Nunn gives them a year to prove it. He ultimately agrees to join the team as a scout and helps the Steelers take steps toward integration such as stopping identifying scouted players by race and housing new players by color at training camp.
Scouting: Nunn visits Alabama A&M in 1974 to see receiver John Stallworth, along with a group of other white scouts. Stallworth has a terrible showing, running on a wet grass with a sore knee. When the scouts go to leave, Nunn feigns an illness and stays behind, walking over to Stallworth’s dorm room as soon as the others left. Nunn knew from his HBCU contacts that Stallworth had the potential to play in the NFL, and he wanted to see him run again. Later, Nunn visited the athletic director and borrowed all of the film on Stallworth, keeping it until after the draft. The sleight of hand allows the Steelers to pick up the receiver in a later round, contributing to an epic draft class.
Draft: Nunn prevented a lot of players from falling through the NFL’s cracks by giving them a shot to play in the league. The 1974 draft set the standard when the Steelers chose four future hall-of-famers with their first five picks: Lynn Swann, Jack Lambert, John Stallworth and Mike Webster. Then after the draft ended, Nunn received a call from the coach at South Carolina State, an HBCU: Could he take another look at a safety named Donnie Shell? Nunn ultimately signed Shell, who also went on to be inducted into the hall of fame. Nunn ultimately discovered many HBCU players who the Steelers drafted in the late rounds – or didn’t draft at all but signed as free agents – and who went on to win multiple Super Bowl championships.
Super Bowl: The Steelers reach the championship game for the first time in the 1974 season for Super Bowl IX. Even before they arrive at Tulane University’s dilapidated stadium for the game, it’s easy to see Nunn’s influence all over the team: More than half the players are Black, and half of them come from HBCUs. These players, on both side of the ball, figure prominently into the win, launching the team’s dynasty of four championships in six years. The crowning moment comes in Super Bowl XIV, when Stallworth makes a 73-yard touchdown reception that seals the victory over the LA Rams.
Epilogue: At age 89, more than two decades after his official retirement, Nunn still goes to the Steelers offices every day during draft season to meet with scouts. A week before the draft, Nunn slumps over in his seat after suffering a stroke; he dies a week later on the eve of the draft. The team pulls out its old draft tables, with the wooden surfaces pockmarked by burns from Nunn’s cigarettes and Art Rooney Jr.’s cigars. The scouts leave an open seat for Nunn. Throughout the NFL, Nunn’s legacy lives on with a scouting fellowship in his name, and indirectly through the Rooney Rule, named for Dan Rooney, which requires teams to interview Black candidates for coaching positions.
I thought Pittsburgh’s most-recent newspaper strike might offer some clues about the potential for a new one. But local news has changed A LOT over the past 30 years. Obituaries on TV? News by fax machine? What even is a fax machine?
The biggest takeaway, however, remains the same: A newspaper strike could have major lasting impacts for how Pittsburghers find out about their city.
The Post-Gazette’s treatment of Black reporters who have been pulled from the coverage of the Black Lives Matter movement underscores why we all should care about this — and gives some clues for what we must do.
Pittsburgh already has so few Black journalists, and many who are here say they feel mistreated, left out and stuck in dead-end careers. Read more…