Alternative weeklies: The final chapter

Death of the 'City Paper'

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4 minute read
Did two papers like this 'make no sense'?
Did two papers like this 'make no sense'?

The phenomenon now known as the “alternative press” first arose in the 1960s as a vehicle for counterculture hippies and antiwar protesters who yearned to stick it to The Man but lacked an outlet. The thought of reaching a marketable audience or turning a profit never occurred to the scruffy but feisty founders of these haphazardly published “underground papers,” like the Seed in Chicago, the Boston Phoenix, or the Drummer in Philadelphia. Money wasn’t the point; speaking truth to power— or scribbling a poem while smoking a joint— was.

Eventually, of course, those hippies were succeeded by yuppies — young urban professionals who found alternative weeklies an ideal vehicle through which real estate brokers, restaurants, movie houses, and massage parlors could reach young readers with disposable incomes at a fraction of the cost of advertising in conventional daily newspapers or glossy city magazines. In Philadelphia the Welcomat, which I edited from 1981 to 1993, became the city’s first profitable alternative paper by the mid-1980s; its smaller rival, Bruce Schimmel’s City Paper, was launched in 1981 and eventually turned enough of a profit that Schimmel was able to sell it for $4 million in 1996.

By the late 1980s, many of America’s alternative weeklies had been herded into “alternative chains” with homogenized editorial products. But Philadelphia, uniquely, continued for more than a decade to boast two independent, financially healthy alternative papers with decidedly distinct personalities.

Michael Cohen’s revenge

The City Paper was what I (from my admittedly biased perch) would call a “conventional alternative newspaper,” modeled after similar weeklies elsewhere and aimed at a young crowd. The Welcomat, by contrast, was a revolutionary weekly experiment in free expression, largely written by its relatively sophisticated and affluent readers (and, in retrospect, a precursor of today’s freewheeling Internet blogs, long before the Internet existed). The Welcomat’s willingness to stand up to the likes of Frank Rizzo and Richard Sprague generated a loyal audience that translated into ad linage and revenues three or four times the size of the City Paper.

Last week, after more than 30 years, the phenomenon came full circle with the announcement that the new owner of Philadelphia Weekly, which used to be known as the Welcomat, had acquired the City Paper for the sole purpose of eliminating it as a competitor. After 34 years, the City Paper’s final issue appears this week.

“To have two papers in the city of Philadelphia like that made no sense,” explained Perry Corsetti, publisher of Broad Street Media, the City Paper’s new and last owner.

Of course nothing in this world lasts forever, especially print publications in the Internet age. But Corsetti’s rationalization strikes me as the final chapter in a little-known story that might be titled, “Michael Cohen’s Revenge.” Let me explain.

Bold new strategy

Throughout the 1980s, when the Welcomat thrived and Schimmel’s City Paper struggled, the Welcomat’s two top executives were silently rooting for Schimmel, for two very different reasons. I, as the Welcomat’s editor, detested monopolies and certainly didn’t want to work for one myself. The Welcomat’s late publisher, Susan Seiderman, for her part, astutely perceived that the City Paper’s continued presence effectively discouraged the national alternative chains from invading Philadelphia and eating our lunch. “Remember, we have a vested interest in the City Paper’s survival,” she often reminded me.

But by 1992 Susan had sold control of the Welcomat and stepped down as publisher, and the new owner brought in a journeyman publisher named Michael Cohen, who had run alternative papers in New York, New England, and Florida. That he never seemed to last more than four years in any one place should have set off alarm bells, but on the surface Cohen seemed like a pragmatic visionary.

Upon his arrival at the Welcomat, Cohen opted for a bold new strategy. No city, he declared (sounding much like Perry Corsetti last week), could economically support more than one alternative newspaper. Therefore he resolved to drive out the City Paper by co-opting it.

Selling out

In due course — by which time I was long gone — the Welcomat was transformed into a generic, youth-oriented alternative weekly indistinguishable from the City Paper. Even the Welcomat’s retro name was changed to the more generic Philadelphia Weekly. As a result, the two papers’ identities became hopelessly confused in the minds of readers and advertisers, and before long the City Paper had pulled almost even with the rechristened Philadelphia Weekly.

Some bitter Welcomat alumni subsequently accused Cohen of sacrificing the Welcomat’s spunky soul for commercial gain. Quite the contrary: During his tenure in Philadelphia, Cohen sacrificed the Welcomat’s soul while simultaneously destroying its commercial advantage as well.

Thanks to Cohen’s brilliant strategy, the rival City Paper probably survived at least a decade longer than it might have otherwise. In the process, that paper provided a valuable training ground for dozens of young journalists while covering hundreds of stories that the Inquirer, Daily News, and Philadelphia Magazine overlooked.

So — the thanks of a grateful city go to Michael Cohen, wherever he is. Rest in peace, City Paper. Philadelphia Weekly will join you soon enough. And the spirit of the alternative media movement will survive and perhaps even flourish on the ultimate alternative medium: the Internet. At least until Michael Cohen gets involved.

City Paper theater critic Mark Cofta will be coming to BSR: His essay on the transition is here.

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