The Cleveland newspaper situation may be taken as typical of many big U. S. cities, as it entered a new phase last week.
In Cleveland there are two evening newspapers, the Press, the News; two morning newspapers, the Plain Dealer and the Times. Both evening sheets are frankly "low-brow"—slangy, sensational, filled with flashy pictures, trashy fiction, much given to noisy circulation "stunts" and blatantly advertised "reforms." The Press is a Scripps-Howard paper and hence more or less euphemistic as to sex matters and equipped with an able science department; the News has a column by always-readable Arthur Brisbane. Otherwise there is little to choose between them
In the morning field, the Plain Dealer has an accidental monopoly. When the Times was founded four years ago (as the Commercial) many a Plain Dealer reader might have switched his subscription, for two reasons: 1) Natural dislike of monopoly; 2) The Plain Dealer's quiescent editorial policy. The Plain Dealer is Democratic but not vigorously so. Its policy has been one of polite self-seeking. But though the Times addressed itself to the conservative, whitecollar, banker-and-his-clients among the Plain Dealer following, it soon turned out to be just a nice little paper with the right idea but no executive ability—and no resources, to fight its opulent rival. It started bravely, dwindled sadly. When it changed hands last week it was doubtless bought in at an exceedingly low figure.
The Times was bought by a company whose central figure and specified publisher was slow spoken, square-jawed Earle E. Martin, editor of the successful Cleveland Press, who straightway resigned that position after seeing a last edition off the presses. He left his sleeves rolled, went to his new office and put in a second consecutive day's work getting out his first Times.
The Cleveland News rejoiced. Gone from its evening field was "the ablest journalist between Chicago and Manhattan." The Plain Dealer was irked. Gone was the comfort of its accidental monopoly, for on the scene had come a man who not only knew how to cater to Cleveland's melting-pot citizenry but who had also an impressive 30-year record as reorganizer and builder on other links in the Scripps-Howard chain and as organizer of the flourishing Newspaper Enterprise Association (feature service). His ability and personality had won him a host of friends in town and through the state, and his company was said to have a cool million dollars in hand—not an extravagant amount to start on, by any means, but most formidable in Editor Earle Martin's adept hands.
He refused to make any advance statements; said he did not believe in hard and fast editorial "policies" or in dividing a city's readers into "classes." He said, "Folks are folks . . . I'm just a poor boy taking a balloon ride. I don't know where I'll come down."