A small however essential thread of Southern historical past unraveled final week.
The Atlanta Journal-Structure, Atlanta’s paper of report for the final 157 years, revealed its last print version on Dec. 31, and from right here on out, the AJC will likely be all-digital. Paper newspapers in Atlanta thus be a part of pay telephones, Blockbuster VCR tapes, cassettes and paper tickets within the junk drawer of historical past, devoured and digested by the inexorable march of digital media.
The AJC isn’t stopping publication; the digital wing of the paper — if we will nonetheless name it that — is extra vibrant than the bodily one. The paper apparently has virtually twice as many digital-only subscribers as physical-paper ones. Nonetheless, there’s one thing important that’s being misplaced right here, yet another tangible connection traded for an ephemeral, digital one.
“Covers Dixie just like the dew” — that was the AJC’s previous slogan, one I at all times liked, although (perhaps as a result of) the picture was slightly gross. The paper’s newest motto is “The substance and soul of the South,” and that additionally works. A number of the most essential names in Deep South journalism handed by means of the AJC, from the Pulitzer Prize-winning anti-segregationist journalist Ralph McGill to the cranky, deep-fried columnist Lewis Grizzard; from the long run “Gone With the Wind” writer Margaret Mitchell; to my first inspiration, the cynically idealistic sports activities author Furman Bisher. (I liked the way in which he lionized Hank Aaron and sparred with Bear Bryant, even when I had no thought what his traditional every-column signoff — “Selah” — really meant.)
You don’t must look too exhausting round Atlanta’s sports activities bars to seek out framed copies of the AJC. Prints of “It’s Atlanta!”, heralding town’s choice as host of the 1996 Olympics, and “CHAMPS!”, the full-page headline heralding the Braves’ 1995 World Collection win, are in all places to today. And like each newspaper, there are numerous AJC clippings of marriage ceremony bulletins, obituaries and the time Uncle Zeke bought attacked by the organ grinder’s monkey in Underground Atlanta tucked into household albums, Bibles and submitting cupboards everywhere in the South.
On one wall of my home hangs a framed, deeply yellowed copy of an AJC web page from Saturday, June 4, 1977, that includes my first-ever byline. Again in these days, the paper would give over a complete web page of its weekend version to schoolchildren who would report on a serious (for them) situation of the day. Our matter: wholesome consuming. The headline of my first revealed story, a recap of a hamburger style check, was “Burger Check Reveals The Greatest.” (The lede: “Even blindfolded, children know what they like.” Tight! And likewise vaguely disturbing!)
Anyway, the purpose is, I nonetheless have that newspaper from almost 50 years in the past. And I’ll grasp onto it till it disintegrates, or till some descendant of mine tosses it and it results in an area landfill. A bookmark in a browser, a PDF, a misaligned printed-out copy … none of them hit the identical as that previous yellow newspaper, not even shut.
Again earlier than children devoured my weekends, I’d sit with a large Sunday version of the AJC, or The Washington Submit or The New York Occasions, and flip by means of pages the scale of a stack of folded towels. The newsprint in your fingertips, that pop of paper as you opened and refolded the sections, the moment immersion into the information of the day with out distracting pop-ups … man, that’s simply irreplaceable.
However right here’s the unhappy fact. I’d love to sit down up on my little perch and be all high-and-mighty in regards to the demise of print journalism, however the actuality is, I can’t bear in mind the final time I purchased a print newspaper … and I’m a rattling journalist. The final print copy of the AJC I personal accommodates my father’s obituary from greater than two years in the past. For some time, I bought printed copies of The Wall Avenue Journal delivered on weekends — a pleasant perk of a subscription to the digital model — however most of these have ended up stacked in a pile in my storage, awaiting their destiny as firepit kindling.
The digital world is just too straightforward, too engaging to flee. Digital books are cheaper than printed ones. Just about each film ever filmed is only a couple clicks and some bucks away, and also you by no means have to fret about that Friday evening Blockbuster dilemma of what to observe when all the good things has already been rented. You possibly can stream virtually the whole lot of recorded music for the price of one album a month. It’s excellent, proper?
Effectively, virtually. All it takes is one incident to recollect you’re not shopping for a product, you’re shopping for a service … and providers can change at any time. For example, proper now, in case you occur to be a fan of the Touring Wilburys — the ‘80s supergroup that included Bob Dylan, George Harrison, Tom Petty and Roy Orbison — you received’t discover them streaming on Spotify or Apple Music. Why not? Who the hell is aware of? However someplace, some lawyer not too long ago instructed some tech to flip a metaphorical change, and whoosh, the whole Wilburys discography is gone — or, extra to the purpose, grayed out. You possibly can see the songs, you possibly can bear in mind the cheerful chords of “Finish of the Line,” however you possibly can’t play them due to some faceless company’s decree. Too unhealthy, so unhappy. However whilst you’re right here, can we curiosity you in a household subscription plan?
Positive, in case you purchased the CD again within the ‘80s, it’ll nonetheless play … however solely if in case you have a CD participant. Lately, the music of everybody from Van Halen to Dr. Dre has vanished, generally briefly, generally completely. Take a look at a month-to-month “What’s Leaving Netflix This Month” record for a reminder of how fleeting digital media might be, and the way tenuous our maintain is on it. (There’s multiple cause they name the digital warehouse “the cloud,” in spite of everything.)
Just about all of my work — beginning with these phrases you’re studying proper right here — exists solely in a digital kind. It means I can attain way more folks than I may with most print media, positive, nevertheless it additionally means this work is right here after which gone. (I pay $15 a month for an online portfolio simply to verify my work doesn’t vanish if certainly one of my previous publications decides to up and erase its archives — which occurs extra usually than you’d consider.) Hell, a not-inconsequential cause why I write books is to have the ability to maintain a few of my work in my palms.
One thing ineffable however vital is misplaced once we lose bodily media, once we turn into licensees quite than readers, listeners and viewers. There’s an impermanence to digital media, and a deep tangible, religious connection when you possibly can maintain the identical paper, the identical report that you simply did as a a lot youthful you … and even higher, that your dad and mom or grandparents as soon as held. These items matter, even when we’re all speeding too quick into the long run to pay them a lot consideration.
The previous AJC lined Dixie just like the dew. The brand new AJC — and all its digital counterparts — evaporates just like the dew, quicker than you’d count on and earlier than you’re even conscious it’s gone.
So subsequent time you possibly can, purchase a tough copy of your favourite guide, or your favourite previous LP, or perhaps a traditional Goodwill-shelf VCR tape. Sock it away for the long run. Your children and grandkids will thanks. Selah.
This was initially revealed at Jay Busbee’s Substack web site, Flashlight & A Biscuit.
