“His eyes bulged out,” said Communicator publisher and reporter M.E. Sprengelmeyer, who encouraged the musician to sell the extra edition as a band boosters’ fundraiser. The four-page section was snapped up in 30 minutes, and the newspaper and its one advertiser, Community First Bank, snapped up a huge chunk of goodwill.
“We blew the town away,” said Sprengelmeyer, who sold nearly 2,000 papers that afternoon at the away game, while his page designer sold the rest back home on the Santa Rosa streets. “That’s what I’m trying to do is get the town all jazzed up about the printed paper.”
And he’s done just that. Ever since losing his job as a Washington, D.C. correspondent for Denver’s Rocky Mountain News two years ago, Sprengelmeyer has been trying to save print journalism. He used his savings to buy The Communicator, a 2,100-circulation paper in a 2,700-person town. A town on Route 66 once used for the freight train scene over the Pecos River railroad bridge in the movie “The Grapes of Wrath.” A town so small, Sprengelmeyer walks to most of his interviews.
But he’s been successful with his 16-page weekly, increasing revenue some 75 percent over the previous year by staying local and relevant. He continued a popular feature started by his predecessor, printing a letter to Santa from every child in the county. And he’s so involved in the local school, he bought students an underwater robot.
Sprengelmeyer, who drives 99 miles weekly on a press run, said if he’s not back with the papers by 2 p.m. Thursdays, cross-armed customers are waiting for him. He doesn’t like to disappoint.
Take the Lions football game. Sprengelmeyer knew the “football crazy town” would appreciate the extra edition, but the team’s record was 7-4, the game was 150 miles away, and opponent Tularosa High School was undefeated. Not only that, he would have to spend $700 plus staff time for something that might be a bust.
“I called up one advertiser and said, ‘Look, I’m taking a gamble here. If we win, we both look great. If we don’t, we never had this conversation,’” Sprengelmeyer said. “I told him I’d eat the cost.”
In-house, the secret paper was known as the “Dewey Defeats Tularosa” edition, because if the Lions lost and the paper ended up on Facebook, they’d be as embarrassed as the Chicago Daily Tribune was when it wrongly
printed “Dewey defeats Truman” in 1948.
The day after the game, he sent an intern out to sell congratulatory ads. He sold 38 of 40. And he made extra-edition posters, which businesses happily displayed. A week later, he sold a record 30 ads at around $100 each.
Now he wants to convey to other community newspapers that they too can connect to their readers.
“What did I risk?” he asked. “I risked $700. It was a coin flip. Anything you do that just creates excitement about the paper is critical.”
Not every publication needs to be global or universal, he said, adding that he is “disgusted” with newspaper corporations that think they must slash expenses and staff.
“If the revenues are suffering because people are questioning the relevance of your paper, invest to make it more relevant,” he said. “Do exciting things to make it more relevant. Do whatever you have to to make it more relevant. Or die.”