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The Inky comes down from its ivory tower
The Inquirer's new home
Jackie Schifalacqua
The Philadelphia Media Network announced last week that after 86 years in its white tower at Broad and Callowhill Streets, the Philadelphia Inquirer and its sister Daily News will soon lease the third floor of the old Strawbridge & Clothier building at Eighth and Market.
The news release trumpeted the move as the first step in the revitalization of Market Street East— a good thing for the city, or at least for the food court below the Eighth and Market Street concourse. No mention was made as to what the change would do to the perception of the newspapers by its staff members or readers.
A friend of mine, who has worked there since his graduation from journalism school 30 years ago, was inconsolable over the move. To him, the building symbolized all that was right and noteworthy about the Inquirer and Daily News. I, on the other hand, argued that he and his fellow journalists could do worse than get out of his ivory tower and spend more time closer to street level.
It's a metaphor, all right
"I don't think the building on North Broad speaks to separation" (from the real world), he e-mailed me, "but to identification. What will it speak in ten years? The building was a metaphor for the Inquirer's place in Philadelphia."
Syntax aside, I suggest that my friend's message reflects the cluelessness of the papers' staffs.
I suppose it's reassuring to go on believing that the Inquirer still holds the pivotal position in the community. But the readership at both the Inquirer and Daily News has plummeted over the past 20 years, and a large part of the reason has been the disconnect between the people who once read these papers and the attitude of the editors and writers.
Blame the professors
Much of this disconnect can be laid at the hands of journalism professors who've trained cadres of young writers that it's their duty to educate the ignorant masses. My Inquirer friend believes his mission is to hold a torch of knowledge so the rest of the region can see. In an age of multiple information sources, that elitist notion is almost as outmoded as the necessity of chopping down trees for newsprint and clogging the streets with gas-guzzling trucks to deliver a package that people can access instantly online without getting newsprint on their hands.
The hard facts are these: The newspaper company wouldn't have moved if it hadn't sold the building. It sold the building because of its recent bankruptcy. It declared bankruptcy because it was losing money. It was losing money because it wasn't selling its product. It wasn't selling the product because no one wanted to read it.
Yes indeed, the old structure at Broad and Callowhill was a metaphor for the Inquirer's place in the community: remote, indisputable, out of touch and outdated.♦
To read responses, click here.
The news release trumpeted the move as the first step in the revitalization of Market Street East— a good thing for the city, or at least for the food court below the Eighth and Market Street concourse. No mention was made as to what the change would do to the perception of the newspapers by its staff members or readers.
A friend of mine, who has worked there since his graduation from journalism school 30 years ago, was inconsolable over the move. To him, the building symbolized all that was right and noteworthy about the Inquirer and Daily News. I, on the other hand, argued that he and his fellow journalists could do worse than get out of his ivory tower and spend more time closer to street level.
It's a metaphor, all right
"I don't think the building on North Broad speaks to separation" (from the real world), he e-mailed me, "but to identification. What will it speak in ten years? The building was a metaphor for the Inquirer's place in Philadelphia."
Syntax aside, I suggest that my friend's message reflects the cluelessness of the papers' staffs.
I suppose it's reassuring to go on believing that the Inquirer still holds the pivotal position in the community. But the readership at both the Inquirer and Daily News has plummeted over the past 20 years, and a large part of the reason has been the disconnect between the people who once read these papers and the attitude of the editors and writers.
Blame the professors
Much of this disconnect can be laid at the hands of journalism professors who've trained cadres of young writers that it's their duty to educate the ignorant masses. My Inquirer friend believes his mission is to hold a torch of knowledge so the rest of the region can see. In an age of multiple information sources, that elitist notion is almost as outmoded as the necessity of chopping down trees for newsprint and clogging the streets with gas-guzzling trucks to deliver a package that people can access instantly online without getting newsprint on their hands.
The hard facts are these: The newspaper company wouldn't have moved if it hadn't sold the building. It sold the building because of its recent bankruptcy. It declared bankruptcy because it was losing money. It was losing money because it wasn't selling its product. It wasn't selling the product because no one wanted to read it.
Yes indeed, the old structure at Broad and Callowhill was a metaphor for the Inquirer's place in the community: remote, indisputable, out of touch and outdated.♦
To read responses, click here.
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