A shame to see the end of the weekly Appyliser and its ilk
IWAS sad to hear that another chapter had been written in the demise of local weekly newspapers. The end of the Ilkeston Advertiser after 119 years in existence was particularly poignant for me because I began my journalistic career there.
But beyond nostalgia, what hurts is the loss of an umbrella that pulled together grass-roots news in a way that papers like the Derby Telegraph could not, and never tried to, emulate.
The Appyliser – as locals called it – and countless more weekly titles up and down the land have been consigned to history. And, while “incorporating” them into bigger newspapers might tick a box in a corporate portfolio, it weakens the sense of community that makes small towns far more than places in which to live, work, shop and sup.
The first edition of the countywide newspaper to incorporate the former weekly title included just three Ilkeston news items in its 96 pages. I can imagine bean-counters at the multi-million-pound publisher’s distant HQ priding themselves on the paper’s broad mix of interesting stories. But they don’t understand what makes a “local rag” so special.
It isn’t the coverage of big news– fires, road accidents, court cases, council controversies and the like, which daily newspapers also cover, and sometimes better. It’s the way they encompass a host of little people doing little things: things that matter to them, that give them a moment in the sun and instil a sense of belonging. Tiny pieces they might be but without them, the jigsaw of community spirit is incomplete.
I came across an old copy of the Advertiser and discovered who’d had the best cabbages at a village show. There were wedding photos and reports (complete with bridesmaids’ names and outfits); results of pigeon and whippet races; reports of cricket and football matches by the dozen; and lists of who’d done well at darts, dominoes, bowls, table tennis, show jumping and tenpin bowling.
That was 40 years ago and times have changed. Big news organisations now concentrate mainly on breaking news quickly on their websites and the sort of minutiae I mentioned has no place online. That is the publishers’ right, of course – and their huge viewing figures show they know their 2020 audiences well. They’re not, after all, a social service. They have profits to consider and can’t throw money at dead ducks.
But if ever I needed proof that little people are still there, still doing little things that matter to them, it came on a pre-lockdown visit to a local boozer. The enthusiasm of opposing skittles teams, united over beer and helpings of cottage pie, was infectious. They’d be talking about missed opportunities and moments of glory until the next fixture came along.
It was their day at Wembley. Such a pity that no-one recorded it for a wider audience.