News-Record.com

Not a week goes by when someone doesn't accuse us of "trying to sell newspapers." As if that's a bad thing.

When we published a photograph on the Sports front of a security officer spraying mace into a crowd of fighting N.C. A&T and Central football players. When we wrote about a former private school teacher being charged with having sex with a student. When we publish a photo of a homeless African boy sniffing glue on World Poverty Day. When we publish virtually any story about Americans dying in the Middle East.

People refer to "selling newspapers" with disgust, as if we're not supposed to want people to buy our paper.

It is time to drive a stake through the heart of this cliche. It may have been relevant back in the day of Pulitzer and Hearst, but those days of yellow journalism are pretty much gone from traditional newspapers, having moved other places.

Single copy sales are driven by two things: What prospective buyers can see above the fold on the front page; and coverage of some event that they already know will be in the paper, such as a story about their favorite sports team. Oh, wait. Three things. When we cut the price of the single copy paper, people buy because they can't resist a bargain.

What sells and what doesn't?

* Disasters -- the geographically closer to the Triad the better -- sell papers. Government scandals don't.

* Sensational stories involving sex, murder and/or celebrities sells papers. Think Britney, Lohan, OJ, Phil Spector. Tough to play up as we don't have that many local celebrities doing scandalous things. Chris Daughtry is still here; Fantasia fled to Charlotte and Broadway.

* Intensely local community news -- read about someone you know --- sells papers. International news doesn't.

* Carolina winning sells papers. State and ECU winning doesn’t (here, at least). Don't shoot the messenger, all you ABC (Anybody But Carolina) fans. It is what it is.

* Advertising -- the Toys R Us Christmas catalogue! -- sells papers.

Actually, if we were just "trying to sell newspapers," we wouldn't write about the candidates for city council. We wouldn't write about the latest proposal to fund a new Eastern High School. We probably wouldn't write about the drought, unless it was to reveal the names and addresses of the water scofflaws. Most serious policy issues aren't big drivers of newspaper sales. We write them because they are important for the community to know about.

With the decline of mass media and the rise of individual media, "sensationalizing" the news has less and less effect in selling newspapers. People can go online for news of disasters, of celebrity scandal, and, to some extent, for intensely local news. Expect that to spread and deepen. Perhaps that contributes to the reputation that newspapers are boring: Too much government stuff, not enough sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll.

We want to sell newspapers by publishing unique stories and photos that matter and will help improve the community. Some days we're better at it than others, but the value of the information will always trump the sensational.

Personally, I want to sell newspapers. Giving readers information they can use is why I got into journalism. (Well, that and because it's fun.) Besides, people who buy the paper keep us in business.

Contrary to the theory that newspaper circulation is down because of the Internet or the lack of time or the irrelevance of the content, I have a different theory: the decline of paperboys.

There was something about the teen-aged paperboy -- his innocence, his pluck, his salesmanship, his buyer's soft heart, I don't know -- that sold papers. Ask a circulation director and they'll tell you the same thing.

Most newspapers eliminated teenagers as paperboys years ago as delivery routes got larger and adults with cars could deliver the papers faster and more efficiently. Plus there was the sticky issue of safety: no one wanted to be responsible for a 14-year-old out walking around town at 4 a.m.

I was a paperboy when I was 14. It never occurred to me to be worried when I was out there, but I was a dumb kid. Now, I can't imagine what motorists passing me walking to the paper drop-site thought I was doing out. And I'd no more let a child of mine do it than I'd let him play on the interstate. But it was good money for a boy who couldn't get a worker's permit for another year and a half.

It may not be possible to bring them back. But maybe we should have the kids sell the paper and the adults deliver it?

Tish Grier at Poynter E-Media Tidbits wonders how much the National Do Not Call Registry has affected newspaper circulation sales. The short answer is a ton.

I don't have the figures, but we saw an immediate drop off back in '03 when we couldn't call people at home and peddle the paper. It was harder to reach people who subscribed for three months at a time, let it drop and waited for the expected call to re-up. (Yes, there were a lot of those.) We had created a habit, fed it and then stopped cold turkey.

We responded with a greater presence at kiosks and grocery stores and public gatherings, but the sales were costlier at a time when we weren't all that interested in costly things.

I wouldn't say that the Do Not Call Registry is the industry's major problem when dealing with circulation declines, but it shut down a good sales option at a time when we needed all the sales options we could get. Hmmm...maybe we could get a registry of e-mail addresses of non-subscribers and....nah.

Full disclosure: My phone number is on the registry...but, of course, I wasn't getting calls from the newspaper as I am a seven-day subscriber.

Seth Godin reminds us that William Randolph Hearst built his newspaper empire by understanding that the goal of newspapers is to sell newspapers, not to report the news. That was 110 years ago, but still....

Godin adapts that idea to news Web sites. The product they sell is drama. He makes the point effectively using a screen grab from CNN and big fat green check marks.

I'm not going to disagree with him, either. We do sell drama. We know what happens when all we give the people is spinach. (Those that eat it become strong like Popeye -- OK, a little misshapen, too. Those who don't, well, you have Bluto.) We want to grab attention. We have a bias in favor of drama, which is a nicer way of saying we have a bias in favor of conflict.

I don't see anything wrong with it either. Looking at the CNN example, the headlines don't pander. They don't link to nude celebrity photos or crash diets. As Seth notes, they simply emphasize drama on the political front.

For comparison purposes, our Web front. It probably doesn't market enough.