One dead, one injured, and bystander loses an arm

William (Big Bill) Thompson stood 6' 4" tall and weighed 280 pounds

 By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com 

In 1906, Durango was such a rough town, that the County Sheriff and the Town Marshal were fighting over whether, or not to allow gambling. The disagreement took a turn toward violence and escalated into the two officers emptying revolvers in street at each other. One dead, one injured, and a bystander losing an arm in the process.

Headlines across the state reflected the news then:

QUARREL WITH POLICEMAN AT DURANGO.

FIGHT AGAINST GAMBLING

Sheriff W. J. Thompson Meets Death at Hands of Policeman Jesse C. Stansel—Latter Officer Dangerously Wounded. 

 

"Sheriff Thompson was shot and killed by a town marshal after an argument stemming from the sheriff closing down gambling halls in the town of Durango. The two got into an argument at one of the halls and went outside and exchanged gunfire. Sheriff Thompson was fatally wounded and the marshal was wounded. The marshal was charged with murder after it was learned that Sheriff Thompson was shot in the back. The undertaker, however, burned all of Sheriff Thompson's clothes and destroyed the evidence, resulting in the suspect's acquittal, " according to modern-day posts by La Plata County Sheriff's Office, Colorado End of Watch: Tuesday, January 9, 1906.

 On January 9, 1906, William (Big Bill) Thompson stood 6' 4" tall and weighed 280 pounds, but that didn't help him when he got into a gun battle with Jesse Stansel, the Town Marshal of Durango. Thompson had been appointed La Plata County Sheriff in 1898, and began to close down Durango's gambling halls under orders from the Governor. Marshal Stansel objected, and the two got into an argument at the El Mano Saloon. The argument moved out onto the sidewalk, where the two men emptied their guns at each other.

After the smoke cleared, both men were taken to Mercy Hospital, where Sheriff Thompson died from four bullet wounds. Marshal Stansel sustained one bullet wound to the chest and survived. After it was discovered that one of Thompson's wounds was to his back, Marshal Stansel was arrested for murder.

Before the trial could take place, the undertaker burned Sheriff Thompson's clothing, which was vital evidence to prove the murder charge. As a result, Stensel was acquitted by the jury. Soon after, he moved to Texas.

  "Denver—A Republican special from Durango Tuesday says; Sheriff W. J. Thompson was killed to-day and Jesse r .. Stansel. a city officer, was dangerously wounded as a result of a revolver duel between the .two men. Thompson •as shot four times and pounded over the head with a gun by Stansel, and the latter was shot once. The tragedy was the outcome of a fight against gambling. I.ast September the sheriff ordered all saloon keepers to close their saloons at midnight and on Sundays and ordered that all gambling cease. Since that time there has been two opposing elements, the City Council favoring gambling, it is said," writes The Walsenburg World, 
January 12, 1906 .

"A raid by Sheriff Thompson last night was the cause of to-day’s tragedy, which occurred in the street in front of the El Moro saloon. Both men emptied their revolvers and then grappled (ml fought until separated by friends. Sheriff Thompson lived only a short time. night at 11 o’clock Sheriff Thompson went in a back room of the El Moro saluon and caught a crowd gambling. He confiscated a roulette wheel and stated while doing so that me police opposed his efforts to enforce the law. Mischief-makers carried the tale to Stansel. no doubt making it worse than it really was. and when Stansel came down town this morning he said he intended to see the sheriff about the report. They met in front of the El Moro saloon and hot words were exchanged. *The preponderance of evidence is that .Thompson was drinking some and had been drinking the night before when •he raided the gambling Joint. According to eye witnesses of the tragedy Thompson turned and started to walk away, but suddenly turned, drew his gun and commenced firing. "

"It is supposed that Stansel said something which caused Thompson to •decide to shoot. The men were very close together. They emptied their guns and then pounded each other with the butt end of the guns. John Acord. a man seventy-two years old, was shot by a stray bullet, the ball entering his forearm and ranging upward, shattering the elbow Joint. The two officers were separated by friends. After Thompson had been shot four a times and badly beaten, he w’alked a few steps and sank to the sidewalk. Stansel clubbed him with his gun after 1 he was down, according to witnesses After the fight was over it was no tlced that Stansel had two guns w’hlch he gave to a by-stander and then asked for a doctor. Thompson was hurried to the Ochs- , ner hospital and breached his last Just as he was being laid on a cot. He was conscious almost up to the last minute. Stansel and Acord were taken to Mercy hospital and Stansel’s wound ( was examined and the bullet removed, it having entered at the right collarbone, extended downward and lodged in the tissues of the right lung. Acord's arm was amputated above the elbow. Enmity had existed between Thompson and Stansel ever since the election a year ago last fall, when both t ran for sheriff, Thompson on the Republican ticket and Stansel on the Democratic ticket. Trouble breeders carried false tales to both men and while they were making their canvass they met and agreed to make a clean campaign and be friendly, but the trouble breeders kept busy and disrupted the friendly compact. Thompson frequently charged that the police opposed him in his efforts to enforce the law and these statements were repeated and distorted by the gambling fraternity and their sympathizers. so the breech between the two men grew wider. W. J. Tompson was thirty-four years of age and had lived in this section twenty-six years. During the early days he was in the stock business and rode the range when this was really a tough country; when It was infested with treacherous Indians and outlaws and there were many things to try a man’s courage. For the last fifteen years Thompson had acted in the capacity of peace officer the greater part of the time. He has been on th police force several times. He served ns deputy sheriff for three years under Joe Smith and a year or two under Joe Airy. He had the reputation of being the biggest sheriff in the state. He was six feet two inches tall and weighed 250 pounds. He was a man of great courage, a terror to the law breakers and never failed to arrest his man if he found him. He leaves a widow, three grown sons and two daughters, one ten years old and ;the other seventeen. He had suffered a great deal of late from rheumatism and this, coupled with his great size, made him clumsy. Stansel has a wife and five small children. He is a fearless officer, of large physique, much younger than Thompson and very active, according to the Trinidad paper, and other dispatches around the state.

Who killed the La Plata County sheriff?

"You may come up with your own answer after seeing the feature-length documentary “Tragedy at El Moro,” says an article in modern-day Durango Herald about the historic incident.

"The new film, directed by Durangoan Preston Benson, will premiere Tuesday at El Moro Spirits & Tavern. The bar and restaurant occupies the same spot that the El Moro Saloon did in 1906, when La Plata County Sheriff William J. Thompson died after a shootout with Durango Marshall Jessie C. Stansel."

Durango Police Department historian Sharon Greve, who helped research for the movie, said she is excited for the public to know the factual, historical story that’s been the subject of much speculation and subjective interpretation over the years.

"In the 1900s, Durango really was the Wild West. Most men worked at railroad, mining and ranching jobs, and there wasn’t much else for them to do besides frequent the many downtown bars and bordellos."

In the 900 block of Main Avenue, where El Moro sits, there were 11 saloons, Greve said, and in those saloons, they didn’t just drink 5-cent beers. They also gambled, and open gambling was shut down by Gov. Jesse Fuller McDonald on July 1, 1905.

At the root of the conflict between Thompson, played by Trapper Niccum, and Stansel, played by Jon Mattox, was Thompson’s belief that the Durango Police Department wasn’t doing enough to help him put a stop to the gambling, and friction built between the two law enforcers.

On Jan. 9, 1906, about midday, the two were in El Moro Saloon, and Thompson, who had been drinking, was using profanity with the sober Stansel, who didn’t like it and left the bar. Stansel was leaning against a light pole when Thompson exited El Moro, uttering more “not-too-nice words,” Greve said. Thompson turned around and fired at Stansel, and Stansel fired back.

They exchanged fire until they ran out of bullets. Thompson ran out first and hit Stansel over the head, and they continued to scuffle until Thompson started to go into Wesley Helm’s Barbershop next door, where he fell in the doorway. He died in a horse-drawn ambulance on the northern Main Avenue bridge as he was being transported to Ochsner Hospital on West Park Avenue.

After a 10-day trial and testimony from 50 witnesses, Stansel was acquitted because of a lack of evidence that he had fired the shot that killed Thompson, Greve said.

"The account of one witness stated there was a pale, smooth-shaven, tall man in dark clothing standing in the El Moro doorway with a gun drawn, Greve said. The witness said the man was there long enough to fire two shots, but he couldn’t tell if he did shoot, she said. During the gunfight, Thompson and Stansel always were facing each other, but Thompson was shot in the back. So that’s where the discrepancy lies. And Hood Mortuary burned Thompson’s clothes the night of the accident, so evidence was lost."

It’s possible that someone in the saloon industry wanted Thompson out of the way because he was cracking down on gambling. A Durango newspaperman once said to Thompson, “Watch out, Bill. They’re out to get you,” Greve said.

“Both men were very dedicated to their jobs,” Greve said. “They were very well-liked by the population, but they knew that it was brewing, and it was not a surprise that it was going to one day explode with the controversy between them.”

Much investigation and research went into this movie, and audiences will be intrigued to learn what really happened on that tragic day, Benson said.

“It’s really kind of an incredible story, beyond what everyone knows or has heard about,” Benson said.

Kris Oyler, co-owner of El Moro, opened the bar in summer 2013.

“It’s very cool to have the history behind what we’re doing,” he said, according to the Durango Herald. 

But the Herald (full disclosure: I carried the Durango Herald in routes in Dolores as a lad.) had it's own baggage to carry around.

Of editors and publishers, historically speaking, I feel that we have it pretty good nowadays. As evidence, I offer the following account from Duane Smith’s 1992 book on the history of the Durango Herald provided to me by David Staats, the former managing editor of the southwestern Colorado daily.
“The long standing newspaper rivalry (between the Durango Democrat and Herald) thundered violently over Durango when Rod Day shot and killed the Herald’s city editor, William Wood. The incident was sparked by a series of ‘newspapers exchanges,’ ‘joshing comments’ from each about the other’s violation of prohibition,” according to Smith’s report.

“Monday morning, April 24, 1922, shortly before noon, marked the nadir of Durango’s newspaper history. The published facts depend on which paper one reads, but one or the other of the men prowled Main’s 900 block looking for his antagonist. Their meeting prompted and aggressive attack by one of them upon his rival. Day suffered a broken nose before firing, after which he entered a nearby barbershop, cleaned himself up, and surrendered. The coroner’s jury made no recommendation. Day, however was forced to stand trial in the District Court for murder; he was acquitted.”

Rod Day sold the Democrat in 1924 but helped start another rival paper in Durango in 1930.
###  

 

 

Cornet Creek flood in Telluride

 Northwest down Colorado Avenue after the Cornet Creek flood on July 27, 1914, Telluride, Colorado; shows First National Bank Building on corner of Fir and Colorado, three false front businesses, the Sheridan Hotel, the San Miguel County Courthouse, and mud and debris- filled street. Townspeople are near the bank and in distance in front of the Sheridan with a horse and automobile; electric and telephones lines cross street; chairs and tables are part of debris.

Telluride's 1914 Cornet Creek flood 

 July 1914, Southeast down Cornet Creek after the flood on July 27, 1914, Telluride, Colorado. Jack Hawkins' two-story wood frame Victorian with front porch and second story bay window tilts on side from flood waters in centerground; smaller destroyed structures are along path of flood; townspeople survey damage; San Juans in background. 

Telluride area had seen floods before

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

 Telluride, and the region was no stranger to flood problems. The largest known flood in the Telluride region occurred on Sept. 5, 1909. It devastated the Lake Fork Valley (below Trout Lake), the Ilium Valley (South Fork Canyon) and the San Miguel Canyon from the bottom of Keystone Hill to beyond Placerville. It took out three major railroad trestles of the Rio Grande Southern Railroad and destroyed much of the railroad bed, as well as taking out every bridge between Ames and the confluence of the San Miguel River with the Dolores River between Naturita and Uravan, a distance of about 75 miles," according to a 2006 story in the WATCH of Telluride.

The massive flood damage occurred as a result of the earthen dam failure of the so-called middle reservoir, situated about a half-mile east of Trout Lake. After the flood, the dam was never repaired or rebuilt. It still sits there today, on private land, looking almost exactly as it must have right after the flood, save for a little weathering and vegetation changes. Had the Middle Reservoir dam not burst, it is debatable whether there would have been any noteworthy flood damage and perhaps no flood damage at all, downward from Trout Lake into the San Miguel River," says the WATCH article.  

"That particular 1909 storm was apparently a beaut by any standard, and rather general in scope. It created enough floodwater to take out some RGS railroad bridges on the Dolores River plus one over near Mancos. A newspaper report of the day said it rained heavily in Grand Junction that day, so this was not a storm of the local thunder-cell development type. "

But unlike the Cornet Creek Flood of 1914, it didn't go right through Telluride, and it didn't drown Vera Blakeley and her dog, in front of her husband.

According to Colorado Encyclopedia and History Colorado, the following details transpired more than century ago.

Cornet Creek

Telluride, fifty miles north of Durango in southwest Colorado, is situated in San Miguel Park, one of the most picturesque alpine valleys in the West. Nearly six miles long and a half-mile wide, the park is traversed by the San Miguel River. In spring the river’s muddy brown water churns through an emerging abundance of brightly colored wildflowers, and by summer the water splashes over smooth boulders among the conifers and salt cedars that intermittently crowd its banks. The changing San Miguel Park seasons were well-observed in the town of Telluride, situated at the east end of the park.

In the early 1890s, the Telluride town council made the fateful decision to reroute Cornet Creek from its natural course by constructing a small dam. Diverting the creek opened land needed for the construction of more homes and buildings along the creek’s former course through the west side of town.  Unfortunately, diverting the creek’s natural run also altered its drainage patterns in ways that would not become fully evident until tested by a severe weather event. In 1914 Cornet Creek and the Liberty Bell Mine’s enormous waste dump—thousands of tons of pulverized rock—combined to create a catastrophe that nearly decimated downtown Telluride.

The Flood

 Just after noon on July 27, several cloudbursts occurred directly over the Cornet Basin behind the Liberty Bell Mine complex. At 12:50 p.m. a torrent of water swept away the enormous Liberty Bell waste dump down Cornet Creek, hurtling beyond Cornet Creek Falls to smash the small dam at the foot of the canyon. Gaining momentum, the huge mass of sludge, with its tumbling trees and boulders, surged down Oak Street to Colorado Avenue, Telluride’s main thoroughfare. Terrified residents barely had time to get out of the way.

Historian David Lavender later wrote, “Totally bewildered by the appalling noise, mothers rushed out into the deluge, screaming for their children.” The mother of year-and-a-half-old Irene Visintin and three-week-old Elvira Visintin was at home with her two girls when the flood struck. Elvira later recalled,

Mother was washing clothes when she heard this horrible sound of rushing water and debris hitting the house. She ran to the window and was very frightened, about that time Dad and some friends came—so she tossed [out the window] first one and then the other of us girls and jumped—so we were saved.

Vera Blakeley was not so lucky. Her tormented husband told the Telluride Daily Journal that “when he looked up the river of mud and debris, swirling past . . . with incredible swiftness[,] had swallowed his wife and their pet dog, which Mrs. Blakeley had by the collar.”  The force of the surging mass of debris and mud knocked homes from their foundations, twisting and turning them like dollhouses. Horrified families watched as their homes buckled under the advancing wall of mud. Contorted houses littered the hardest-hit residential areas.

Lavender later wrote that the flood “filled the lower floors of both the Miners Union Hospital and the Sheridan Hotel with goo, and left five-foot mats of tangled debris in the central parts of Columbia and Colorado Avenues.” Deep, pasty mud inundated Colorado Avenue for two blocks from the San Miguel County Courthouse to the First National Bank. Instead of customers, sludge bellied up to the New Sheridan’s elaborate hardwood bar. Shocked residents began to search for personal belongings and pets through the waist-deep, gummy mud.

Recovery

In a blaring headline after the flood, the Telluride Daily Journal asserted that “Telluride Will Triumph Over Her Crushing Blow,” noting that “Carpenters and workmen will work three shifts of 8 hours each until the damage done to the town has been repaired.” On July 29, less than forty-eight hours after the flood, the paper declared that conditions were improving, reporting that workers were “busily engaged in the work of staving off the thousands of tons of pressure being exerted against many sections of the city by the sea of mud and debris.”

A force of “half a hundred carpenters and nearly a hundred assistants” worked continuously on a “giant sluiceway constructed from the San Miguel River” to a point near the center of town.  These workmen, mostly miners by trade, used powerful fire hoses in combination with the hastily constructed sluice to quickly wash away the deep debris. Given the destruction wrought by the flood, it is remarkable that only one person died and that the town recovered so quickly and efficiently.  Most local mines resumed normal production and shipping by the end of the following month, and most of the damaged structures had been fully repaired by July of the following year.

Adapted from Christian J. Buys, “‘Mothers Rushed Into the Deluge’: Telluride’s Great Flood of 1914,” Colorado Heritage 20, no. 3

As reported in the local newspaper, The Telluride Daily Journal, which covered the event following day's issue recounting the disaster:

At 12:50 o'clock Monday afternoon, July 27, 1914, following on the heels of one of the hardest rain storms ever experienced in the city, a river of mud, very conservatively estimated at between eight and ten feet in height, swept out of Cornet Creek Canon, just north of town and traveling a southeasterly direction through town, swept everything which was in its path.

A waterspout of unbelievable volume and resulting from a cloudburst near the top of Sawtooth range directly north of town, was the source of the flood...The water dam owned by the city just northwest from the storage reservoirs for domestic purposes was completely swept from its moorings and its supply of stored up water was added to the awe-inspiring flood.

Boulders weighing half a ton were easily carried along on the crest of the big mass of mud and debris forced on by the irresistible force of the onrushing water...Huge timbers and trees were also carried down with the rush as though they had been mere chips of wood and these with the boulders were driven through houses in the path of the flood and landed high and dry ten blocks from the mouth of the canon.

The newspaper reported in detail the loss of several residences and businesses. One of the most dramatic depictions was that of the Sheridan Hotel's Grill Room, where it was said that the mud was "within a foot of the 14-foot ceiling."

Perhaps the greatest tragedy was the loss of one of the town's residents, and the newspaper reported on Mr. and Mrs. Blakley's final moments together:

Mr. and Mrs. Blakley, hearing the tremendous roar of the flood in the mouth of the canon, ran through the rear of their home, but had barely reached the gate opening into the alley when the flood struck them. Mr. Blakley was thrown to his face and crowded to the edge of the flood. Mrs. Blakley was carried down in the main current of the river of mud, her body still being unfound though several hundred men have diligently searched since the catastrophe.

 

 

Exterior view of Jack Hawkins residence, on Oak Street, filled with mud and debris from the disastrous Cornet Creek flood on July 27, 1914, Telluride, Colorado; shows two-story wood frame Victorian with front porch and second story bay window tilting on side from flood waters, smaller destroyed structure, and the San Juans in background. 

 

Oak Street filled with mud and debris from the disastrous Cornet Creek flood on July 27, 1914, Telluride, Colorado. Jack Hawkins' two-story wood frame Victorian with front wraparound porch and second-story bay window tilts on side from flood waters; smaller wood frame structure with front intersecting gables destroyed in foreground; cliffs in background.

 

North, up mud and debris-filled street from the disastrous Cornet Creek flood on July 27, 1914, Telluride, Colorado; shows two-story false front, Iowa House on corner, and residence across street.

Two men stand on top of debris brought down by the Cornet Creek flood on July 27, 1914, Telluride, Colorado. Mud and debris fill street with damaged wood frame structures; Telluride Hospital is in background with building leased to San Miguel County Historical Society for use as a museum.

Interior of Sheridan Hotel Bar with mud and high-water marks from the disastrous Cornet Creek flood on July 27, 1914, Telluride, Colorado. Calendar on back wall marks date; room includes a clock high on left wall, stuffed bird with outstretched wings on top decorative molding, bar, cash register, and electric lights. 

View south down Oak Street filled with mud and debris from the disastrous Cornet Creek flood on July 27, 1914, Telluride, Colorado. Townspeople survey damage. Jack Hawkins' two-story wood frame Victorian with front porch and second story bay window tilts on side from flood waters; smaller destroyed structure is next door; residences line street; church and back of San Miguel County Courthouse are in distance.

###. 

 

 

 

The newspaper’s most important ‘job to be done’

 Boys and a teacher from Clayton College look on as a man operates a printing press at the Denver Post printing plant in Denver, Colorado. Buckets of ink are suspended from the ceiling nearby.

 From October, 2007 edition of Newspapers & Technology

Still concerned with Widows and orphans 

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

It has been roughly one year since the American Press Institute introduced us to the idea that consumers don’t buy products. Instead, they hire them to get key jobs done in their lives.
The concept, “Jobs to Be Done,” arose from the API’s Newspaper Next project.

Newspaper execs alternately embraced the idea, puzzled over it, and in a few cases, outright rejected it.
Depending on whom you talk to, the printed newspaper is either a dying breed or in the throes of being reinvented into a yet-to-be-determined entity.

Yet according to the World Association of Newspapers, global newspaper circulation is up nearly 10 percent since 2002, although the group is careful to note that the North American marketplace is not participating in that growth.

As Gregg Bergan, a columnist for the Denver Business Journal noted recently, “predicting the future of newspaper readership is possibly as confounding as Yogi Berra’s puzzling statement, ‘Nobody goes there anymore; it is too crowded.’”

Good idea
But the idea of readers hiring us to get a job done is a good one. Community newspapers should be reflective of the community they are in. If a paper manages to do that — and in a way that is better than anything else
available — it will survive.

Bill Haupt, president of the International Society of Weekly Newspaper Editors, brought that point home several years ago.
“… A hometown or community newspaper will always be here to hold a mirror to the community. That means the good, the bad and the ugly, generally in that order. A good community newspaper reflects the essence of a community. An outstanding community challenges it to be better,” wrote Haupt.

It is as Walter Williams, the first dean of the school of journalism at the University of Missouri, articulated before his death in 1935.“I believe that the public journal is a public trust; that all connected with it are, to the Internet during the day, and view cable news in the evening. Ease of use, convenience, timeliness, relevance and, of course, quality of content serve as drivers in the selection process. 

In short, those readers migrate to the source that best gets the job done.
Granted, consumer choice 75 years ago was far more limited, but to quote Walter Williams again: “I believe that advertising, news and editorial columns should alike serve the best interests of all readers; that a single standard of helpful truth and cleanliness should prevail for all; that the supreme test of good journalism is the measure of public service.”

If we can somehow keep that in mind, no matter if our story-telling platform is the traditional newspaper, a blog, podcast or something that hasn’t even been developed yet, we will survive and prosper. We will continue to be
hired. And in keeping all that in mind, I guess we have identified our primary “Job to Be Done.”

At the time of this article, Rob Carrigan was in the sales and business development group of weekly newspaper publisher Colorado Publishing Co., a Dolan Media Co. unit based in Colorado Springs.

Jimtown, Willowcreek, Stringtown, Amethyst and Creede

It's day all day, in the day-time,
And there is no night in Creede

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com 

Creede was originally located on East Willow Creek just above its junction with West Willow Creek, however, it was originally named Willow. The post office opened on May 12, 1891, and it was renamed Creede on July 1, 1891.
Below Creede were Stringtown, Jimtown, and Amethyst. The Amethyst, Colorado, post office opened on January 25, 1892. The Town of Creede was incorporated on May 19, 1892. Ranching and tourism are well-established traditions in the Upper Rio Grande Valley, says the town of Creede's web site.

Kit Carson’s brother-in-law, Tom Boggs, and several other settlers began farming at Wagon Wheel Gap as early as 1840. M.V.B. Wason homesteaded the Wason Ranch in 1871. Hay became a major commodity for the mining camps at Summitville and Lake City. Prospectors and other travelers, lured by the wealth of the San Juan’s mineral fields, coursed toll roads linking Lake City with supply towns in the San Luis Valley. Barlow and Sanderson stages made several runs daily. 

"By the mid–1870s, tourist activities also began to thrive along the Rio Grande. Books such as Crofutt’s Gripsack Guide or Ingersoll’s Crest of the Continent enticed Easterners and Europeans to experience the American West. The pioneering name of Soward became associated with the Upper Rio Grande Valley in 1876 with the purchase of the Antelope Springs Stage Station and Halfway House. James Workman bought the Texas Club, now the location of Freemon’s Ranch, at the stage-stop settlement of San Juan. Nearly 15 years before there was a town called Creede, a hotel opened at Wagon Wheel Gap," says information from the town of Creede. 

"The Denver & Rio Grande Railroad began transporting eager tourists into the area as early as 1883 with the opening of the depot at Wagon Wheel Gap. Fishermen would ride the train to a favorite “hole,” disembark to fish for the day, and then catch a ride on a returning train. The Utes’ favored hot springs soon became a popular spa with tourists coming in droves to “take the waters.” Praise for the curative and restorative benefits, both by drinking from the bubbling hot springs as well as bathing in the soothing flow, spread through publications promoted by the railroad. A lavish bathhouse sheltered guests as they luxuriated in the therapeutic springs. The historic bathhouse still stands at the 4UR Ranch as a poignant reminder of those early tourism heydays."



 

Nicholas Creede & Nephew Harvey Lester, 1870 - Creede Historical Society Archive #3069

Jimtown's great fire of 1892

 
Jimtown was the historic, bustling, lower section of Creede, Colorado, during its famous silver boom in the early 1890s. While the original tent city and stilt-supported wooden buildings no longer exist, the area's explosive mining past is preserved through local museums, underground tours, and scenic drives.The Silver Boom (1890-1893): Following Nicholas C. Creed's discovery of the Holy Moses mine, Willow Creek Canyon swelled from a remote wilderness to a wild-west boomtown of 10,000 residents. Creede Camp (Upper Creede) and "Jimtown" (Lower Creede) eventually merged into the incorporated city of Creede.Wild West Outlaws: Jimtown and early Creede attracted notorious frontier figures. 

Infamous characters like Bat Masterson and Bob Ford (the man who killed Jesse James) briefly set up shop or operated saloons in the area before the silver crash of 1893.




Burn district, Jimtown, Colo.,
great fire of June 5th, 1892
Creator: Goodman, Charles, d. 1912.
Summary: Smoke rises from the smoldering ashes of the fire that burned a portion of Creede (Jimtown/Upper Creede), Colorado, in Mineral County. Men walk through ashes and debris that litter the center of town. Buildings, shanties, cabins, and tents that escaped the fire are on the hillside in the background.
Date: 1892, June 5
Notes: Formerly F44688.; Formerly X-7462.; Inked title reproduced in photographic print with: "no. 3."; R7110015375
Physical Description: 1 copy photonegative ; 10 x 13 cm. (4 x 5 in.); 1 photographic print on card mount : albumen ; 13 x 21 cm. (5 x 8 in.); 1 photoprint ; 11 x 17 cm. (4 x 6 1/2 in.)
Source: Mrs. L. P. Thompson.
Western History/Genealogy Dept., Denver Public Library.




Here's a land where all are equal -
Of high or lowly birth.
A land where men make millions,
Dug from the dreary earth.
Here the meek and mild-eyed burro
On mineral mountains feed -
It's day all day, in the day-time,
And there is no night in Creede.

 Creede, by Cy Warman

Creede was originally known as Jimtown.
Title: Jimtown (Colo.) Great Fire of June 5th, 1892
Year/era: 1892-06-05
Photographer: Sanborn (Denver, Colo.)
Publisher: Sanborn Souvenir Co., Inc.
Center of Southwest Studies, Fort Lewis College, Nina Heald Webber Southwest Colorado Collection




Main Street, Jimtown, Colo.
Creator: Goodman, Charles, d. 1912.
Pedestrians walk down the unpaved street of Creede (Jimtown), Colorado in Mineral County; many people stand on the wood-plank sidewalks in front of the building. Horse-drawn wagons are parked at the sides of the street. Architectural elements of the one and two-story wood-frame buildings include clapboard siding, bay windows, cornices, false fronts, flat roofs, and gables. The narrow, steep, rocky canyon that surrounds the town is in the background. Signs: "Thomas & Thomas Law Office" "Theatre Comique" "Stoves Hardware" "White and Mitchell" and "Thomas Charpe Staple Fancy Grocers."
Date: [between 1892 and 1899]
Notes: Formerly F44689.; Formerly X-7915; Inked on back of photographic print: "Creede is about a mile North of Jimtown. Principle street of Jimtown.; Inked title reproduced in photographic print.
Physical Description: 1 copy photonegative ; 10 x 13 cm. (4 x 5 in.); 1 photographic print on card mount : albumen ; 13 x 20 cm. (5 x 8 in.); 1 photoprint ; 10 x 17 cm. (4 x 6 3/4 in.)
Is Part Of Views of Creede and vicinity.
Source: Mrs. LP Thompson.
From the Western History/Genealogy Dept., Denver Public Library.
 

Creede, Colorado Date: [1890?]




Two men stand in the open doorway of the Holy Moses Saloon, which is next to the narrow, rocky, canyon walls that surround the town of Creede, Colorado, in Mineral County. The building is a one-story, clapboard storefront with a broken cornice and a transom over the front door. A step leads from the narrow, wood-plank sidewalk in front of part of the building to the entrance of the building. A barrel lies on its side near the entrance.
Format of Original Material 1 copy photonegative ; 20 x 25 cm (8 x 10 in.); 1 photo print on cabinet card : cabinet card ; 9 x 9 cm (3 3 1/2 x 3 1/4 in.)
Notes: Formerly F3941. Hand-written on back of photo print: Saloon was located at the mine named Holy Moses. It is 2 1/2 miles N.E. of Creede. The man standing in his shirt sleeves in the doorway was the owner of the saloon and he is now Sheriff of Creede. Mr. William Orthen. This saloon was the first liquor shop above Creede. Photoprint has yellowed and faded, and the card to which it is attached is dirty. Title hand-written on back of photo print.
Denver Public Library Special Collections.

I'm here with all the beer

 

Train load full of beer

By Rob Carrigan,  robcarrigan1@gmail.com

 I always expect to back a beer truck into the party, but yesterday was sort of next level. 

Looking in the mirror outside the locomotive switcher, they trusted me at the levers to back the Coors train car load 'refer' into position in the yard. 

The bright-red Coors Diesel Switcher No. C988 is a permanent historical fixture at the Colorado Railroad Museum in Golden, Colorado. 

Built originally in 1938, this EMD SW8 locomotive worked the tracks of the nearby Coors plant from 1981 to 2004 before being donated to the museum. 

It was a pleasure to hit the horn to clear the way.

 ###

William Henry Jackson style

Conductor on the platform of the "Rico" Business Car at Colorado Railroad Museum in Golden during Colorado Crossings 2026. Rob Carigan photo

 What's it like riding the "Rico," taking photos?

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

This weekend, I had just a taste of what it might have been like to ride the rails and shoot photos in the 1890s with William Henry Jackson in his traveling dark room in Colorado. I had a seat, regular class, on the next car ahead in the train. But when it stopped for de-boarding, I asked the conductor if I could drift on back through what was once Jackson's business car "Rico" at the end of the excursion train. 

The famed Western photographer William Henry Jackson used the Rio Grande Southern business car "Rico" (originally D&RG car
B-21) as his mobile home and darkroom during his iconic 1890s photography excursions through the rugged San Juan Mountains of Colorado. 

History of the "Rico" 

Construction & Rebuilding: 

The car was originally built as a standard passenger coach by Billmeyer & Small in 1880 for the Denver & Rio Grande (D&RG) railroad. In 1892, it was rebuilt into a business car and named "Rico".

William Henry Jackson Special: 

 Jackson utilized this narrow-gauge luxury car as a traveling office and photo studio, famously attaching it to RGS trains (like Engine No. 9) to capture breathtaking views of Lizard Head Pass and the surrounding mining country.
Renaming: In 1909, the car was briefly renamed "Montezuma," and later designated as B-21 in 1921.

Preservation:  

Following the abandonment of the Rio Grande Southern in 1951, the Rocky Mountain Railroad Club purchased and rescued the historic car.  Today, the meticulously restored RGS Business Car No. B-21 "Rico" has been beautifully preserved and is proudly exhibited as part of the permanent collection at the Colorado Railroad Museum located in Golden.

From History Colorado and Colorado Encyclopedia :

William Henry Jackson (1843–1942) was one of the best-known photographers of the American West. He is renowned for his photographs of Colorado’s mountain scenery, many of which show now-famous landmarks such as Mount of the Holy Cross, Garden of the Gods, Mesa Verde, and Royal Gorge. His photographs captured the vastness of Colorado’s beauty and helped lure many people to the state from the late nineteenth century onward.

Today, Jackson’s images provide Americans with a glimpse of the American West on the cusp of great change, helping them see what familiar landscapes looked like as humanity ushered in the age of industrial mining, timber harvesting, large-scale irrigation projects, and other modern developments.
 

Early Life :

William Henry Jackson was born to George Hallock Jackson and Harriet Maria Allen on April 4, 1843, in Keeseville, New York. Jackson learned to paint from his mother, a hobbyist. He worked as a colorist at photography studios in Troy, New York, and Rutland, Vermont, where he learned photographic technique. At the age of nineteen Jackson enlisted in the Civil War, serving for nine months in Company K of the Twelfth Vermont Infantry. While en route to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, Jackson’s regiment was diverted to Westminster, Maryland, to guard trains—missing one of the war’s bloodiest affairs. After the war, Jackson returned home, where he enjoyed landscape painting. A disagreement with his sweetheart precipitated Jackson’s move West.

In 1868 Jackson relocated to Omaha, Nebraska, and opened a photography studio with his brother Ed. A year later William married Mollie Greer. She and their baby died during childbirth in 1872. In 1873 Jackson married Emilie Painter. Their union produced three children: Clarence, Louise, and Hallie.
 

Hayden Survey :

A chance meeting with Ferdinand Vandeveer Hayden, director of the United States Geological Survey of the Territories, changed the course of Jackson’s career. In early 1870, Jackson became the official photographer of the “Hayden Survey.” For nine seasons, Jackson worked with Hayden to document the landscape in Colorado, Utah, and Wyoming. In 1871 Jackson photographed the Yellowstone area, and his photographs helped convince members of Congress to designate Yellowstone as the nation’s first national park on March 1, 1872.

Over the next five years of the survey, Jackson photographed Colorado from its southwest corner across the Rocky Mountains. His photographic equipment consisted of bulky cameras supported by sturdy tripods, fragile glass plate negatives, and a portable darkroom, including bottles of chemicals. Jackson processed the negatives in the field, allowing him to see his results immediately. If he was dissatisfied, Jackson could wipe off the photographic emulsion and reuse the negative.

During the Colorado years of the survey, Jackson perfected his mountain views, photographed small towns, and took images of Native American life. He used a wide variety of photographic formats, from stereographs to spectacular, multiplate panoramas. His most popular subjects included several of Colorado’s Fourteeners, especially Mount of the Holy Cross. While Jackson made the first photographs of the Native American sites near Mesa Verde, the survey did not find the Cliff Palace, the most famous cliff dwelling in the area.
 

Photography Business: 

In 1879 Jackson, now a famous photographer, chose to open a studio in Denver. Jackson knew the state well, and with duplicate negatives from his survey work, he already had a strong inventory of Colorado views.

Commissions from the railroad industry supported Jackson for many years. He worked for the Baltimore & Ohio, Denver & Rio Grande, Mexican Central Railway, New York Central, Philadelphia & Reading, and the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe. Some provided private cars, allowing Jackson and his traveling companions the freedom to stop at any location. His photographs of beautiful scenery along the railroad routes were displayed in railroad offices, sold to tourists, and used as the basis for engravings published in brochures and advertisements. Even those unable to leave home could purchase Jackson’s photographs.

The economic downturn of 1893 devastated Colorado’s economy, including Jackson’s business. At the same time, photographic printing technology and publishing methods were rapidly evolving, making it easier to mass produce half-tones and gravures. The original photographic print held less value. In addition, amateur photography gained popularity with the introduction of Kodak cameras.

Jackson desperately needed to change his business model and increase cash flow. An offer to join the World’s Transportation Commission, a three-year project to document railways and other types of transportation around the world, fit the bill. Harper’s Weekly magazine agreed to publish illustrated articles about the trip, based on Jackson’s photographs. Jackson photographed scenes in Egypt, Ceylon, India, New Zealand, Siberia, and several other locations. Beset by budget problems, the trip lasted only eighteenth months.
 

Leaving Colorado: 

In 1897 Jackson joined the Detroit Publishing Company, a major photography firm. A year later, the Jacksons left Denver and moved to Detroit. Jackson, a partner with the firm, contributed 20,000 negatives to the business. The company specialized in converting black-and-white photographs to color lithographs called Photochroms. Jackson’s images, now mass-produced in a range of sizes that included newly popular postcards, were sold in stores, in hotels, and through mail-order catalogs. Jackson made photographs for the Detroit Publishing Company until 1903, when he took over the role of plant manager. The company thrived until after World War I, going bankrupt in 1924.

In 1924 Jackson moved to Washington, DC. He lived with his daughter and resumed his interest in landscape painting. In 1936 Jackson painted four murals, based on the four major nineteenth-century geologic expeditions, for display at the Interior Department building in Washington. Jackson’s ghost-written autobiography, Time Exposure, was published in 1940.

On June 30, 1942, at the age of ninety-nine, William Henry Jackson died in New York City. He is buried in Arlington National Cemetery in Washington, DC.

 

Fix locomotives, cars for passengers, business, liquid, gas, stock, freight

 The Cornelius W. Hauck Roundhouse at the Colorado Railroad Museum

 Round and round we go

 "I could go back to the railroad. I liked that job. "_ Sturgill Simpson

"Turntables have been a 'round' since the 1830s – and they're still in rotation." — BNSF Rail Talk: A reflection on the remarkable longevity of the railroad turntable. 

Getting aligned in the right direction 

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

 In the old days, you had to take your locomotive and all the rolling stock to railroad roundhouse to have those knuckleheads fix it, usually.

While some have been replaced by reversing loops (wyes), dozens of these vintage structures are still maintained for historical preservation and scenic train operations.

Railroad roundhouses are the garages and workshops for locomotives and cars. The Cornelius W. Hauck Roundhouse at the Colorado Railroad Museum was completed in 2000 and is named after one of the Museum’s founders. It has five stalls and houses the tools and equipment needed to restore and repair rolling stock. 

Roundhouse workers must have many skills to keep equipment in working order. Volunteer machinists, pipe fitters, carpenters, electricians, painters and upholsterers contribute more than 1,200 hours a month restoring and maintaining rolling stock at the Museum.

There are nine railroad roundhouses that still physically exist in Colorado in varying states — ranging from fully operational historic sites to abandoned foundations.

The remaining roundhouses across the state include:
• Colorado Railroad Museum Roundhouse (Golden): Built in 2000, this five-stall roundhouse features inspection pits and a machine shop used for restoring historic trains.
• Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad Roundhouse (Durango): A fully functioning, historic roundhouse originally built in 1881 that serves the famous narrow-gauge steam trains.
• Como Roundhouse (Como): Built by Italian stonemasons in 1881, this former Denver, South Park & Pacific Railroad facility is listed on the National Register of Historic Places and is undergoing active preservation.
• Hugo Union Pacific Railroad Roundhouse (Hugo): Constructed in 1909, this is the only surviving brick roundhouse in the state associated with the pre-merger Union Pacific Railroad.
• Leadville Roundhouse (Leadville): Originally a narrow-gauge facility built by the Denver & Rio Grande, the building still stands and is used for storage.
• Tiny Town Railroad Roundhouse (Morrison): A miniature roundhouse built for the 15-inch gauge railway.
• Midland Terminal Railroad Roundhouse (Colorado Springs): The physical structure still exists but has been repurposed into commercial retail and mail space.
• Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Railroad Roundhouse (Colorado Springs): The structure survives but has also been repurposed for non-railroad use.
• Burlington Route (Denver): Two stalls remain of the old Chicago, Burlington & Quincy roundhouse and are integrated into a current shop building.
Additionally, there are several locations where faint visual remains or foundation outlines can still be seen—such as in La Junta and La Salle. 

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We still need to turn a profit — or do we?

 

From Dec. 2007 issue of Newspapers & Technology

‘Still eating’ good advice for newspapers confronting challenges
By Rob Carrigan
 

---

His answer was always the same: “Still eating.”

Rain or shine, good times or bad, my grandfather always answered that way when anybody asked him, “How is it going?” or “How are you?” or “How do you do?”

He had other little endearing comments and sayings of course (for example, calling black table pepper the Sioux word for fly poop).

But “Still eating,” was his trademark and it reflected his hardscrabble existence as a homestead rancher on the Western Slope of Colorado.
After years in the community newspaper business, I have adopted a similar stance. Today, circulation is harder to keep up. Advertising is more difficult to find, and it often has to be shared with others. Nobody respects us. And the margins seem thinner than the air at 14,000 feet.

Still, it is a fun business. Something new every day, plenty of interaction in the thick of things and a newspaper knows what’s going on around town. These all are definite benefits. However, we need to turn a profit — or do we?

Another view

Maybe not. Consider media critic Mark Glaser of MediaShift, who makes a case for citizen ownership of the Los Angeles Times.

“Already, a handful of newspapers have survived and thrived owned by charitable trusts as non-profits. These include the St. Petersburg (Fla.) Times (owned by the Poynter Institute) and the Union Leader in Manchester, N.H. (owned by the Nackey S. Loeb School of Communications).

“They’re not setting the business world on fire, but that’s not the point. The idea is for the newspaper to make enough money to continue serving the public, without the pressures of more, more, more profits from Wall Street,” writes Glaser.

As readers take greater control in other ways like helping to create transparent and inclusive newsrooms and becoming more interested in the news gathering process as citizen journalists, it is only a wee leap to run the business-side of things, he contends.

At a smaller scale, it might even be more conceivable.

Serving a need

Jordan Moss, editor of the non-profit Norwood News in the Bronx, N.Y., says non-profit newspapers can be powerful tools that unite communities and shed light on issues overlooked by the mainstream press.

“As media companies continue to merge and grow, the news gets further and further away from ordinary people’s lives and concerns,” wrote Moss in 2002. “Neighborhoods without their own newspapers have little access to local news and information. At a time when urban issues have faded from state and national political agendas, the absence of a widely read record of the issues confronting urban communities is even more serious.”

Personally, I have competed against strong not-for-profit papers and it is an interesting exercise.

Volunteer workforces, inexpensive advertising and far-reaching circulation efforts that were never designed to make money can be tough competition in comparison to charging ad rates that need to keep up with industry norms.

In many cases, these “philanthropic” papers appear because a need exists and the private sector is not paying close enough attention or providing an adequate outlet.

Stymied by MSM

In short, organizers created the papers because they felt roadblocked by traditional media.

Market forces were ignored. The readers, or advertisers, or others, asked for something and when they didn’t get it, somebody figured out a way. Thus, non-profit becomes a viable option.

Maybe the non-profit model is not that far-fetched.

After all, circulation might not be as challenging to maintain. Advertising support might be less difficult to find. If our focus was “philanthropic,” readers could find it in their hearts to respect us. And we wouldn’t have to worry about thinner margins.

We would likely have to slim down a bit.

But as my grandfather was prone to say, we would be “Still eating.”

Rob Carrigan is in the sales and business development group of weekly newspaper publisher Colorado Publishing Co., a Dolan Media Co. unit based in Colorado Springs. He can be reached at robcarrigan1@gmail.com.
 

Like gardening, or gold mining, at one time

 

Six men are gathered on the front deck of the The Crusher, the first newspaper in Fremont (Cripple Creek, Teller County), Colorado. Oakley Spell, a young boy, holds a bundle of newspapers under his arm; a sign on the log building reads: "The Crusher." The Crusher was the Teller County ancestor of the following three papers I managed at the time: Ute Pass Courier in Woodland Park, the Gold Rush in Cripple Creek and the Extra in Teller County, all ASP Westward LP weeklies in Colorado.
 Date: 1891 W. H. Jackson sample album. Colorado Book IV. no. 33
Creator: Jackson, William Henry, 1843-1942. 

Watching your garden,
and newspaper, grow

From September 2006 editon of Newspapers & Technology
By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com 

Managing newspapers is like managing a garden.
You really can’t make things grow; you can only try to establish and maintain conditions that help the various plants take off and hopefully produce.
You need to watch where you position specific varieties in your pre-planning or the pumpkins will cross with the squash, and the corn will block the sun that the beans need.
Likewise, with a newspaper, you don’t want your TMC shopper choking the main news product to death.
Not too long ago, a publisher could simply scratch a shallow hole in the dirt, drop some seed money into it, make sure it received plenty of water and maybe spread a little manure over it now and then.

With a little hard work and luck, that same publisher would be able to reap a substantial harvest. Today, with all the new fertilizers and other technology flying around, making the right choices to grow a newspaper is that much more complicated.

Free versus paid
Take, for example, the “free versus paid” discussion, which is somewhat akin to “volunteer” seeding versus planting.
Because of churn ratios and other factors relating to the cost of circulation sales, some metro dailies are now paying more to maintain paid circulation than it would cost them to give everyone in a market a free paper. And they are losing the war as paid circulation continues to lose ground.
At the same time, readers, and more importantly, advertisers, are becoming less impressed with paid circulation, especially when some of the best things in life now are free.
In the words of Craig McMullin, executive director for the Association of Free Community Papers, “Give people something they need free and create an audience and the advertisers will pay the freight.”
But that is not the complete answer for newspapers.
Our competitors have also figured that out. The business models of Craigslist, Google and to some extent, eBay, all are based on the same principle.

Redefining roles
Additionally, even as newspapers redefine their marketing, the role of journalism itself is being recrafted.
Dan Gillmor’s recent book, “We the Media: Grassroots Journalism by the People, for the People,” explores that possibility.
“Technology has given us the communications toolkit that allows anyone to become a journalist at little cost... Nothing like this has ever been remotely possible before.” Gillmor wrote.
To Gillmor, news is no longer a lecture in which the media tells you what the news is. Instead, it’s a conversation, with blurred lines between producers and consumers of that news.

Embracing change
Gillmor’s suggestion: Media needs to embrace those changes by encouraging readers to become a big part of the process. Facilitate event blogs that let readers contribute and become a part of the coverage, he says. Ask for and post readers’ information, pictures and audio so they become extensions of limited staffs and resources.
Today, a person with a cell phone or other digital device might be able to produce the photos or audio clips nearly as easy as the major players in the news business.
The bright spot? The news industry’s traditional weeding function will help it survive.
After all, with all the citizen reporting and info gathering taking place in the democratization of the news, it’s more necessary than ever for a good editor to take the hoe to those pesky mistakes, misinformation, hoaxes, spin doctoring and other weeds that can render the garden plot useless.

At the time of this writing, Rob Carrigan specialized in prepress systems for weekly newspapers. He was the publisher of the Ute Pass Courier in Woodland Park, the Gold Rush in Cripple Creek and the Extra in Teller County, all ASP Westward LP weeklies in Colorado. He can be reached by e-mail at robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Love paper business so much, couldn't make the change

Newspapers in the information business?

This post first appeared in Newspapers & Technology in January, 2007.

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

I don’t know how many times in the last year I’ve heard someone with their feet mired in the traditional ink-on-paper newspaper business try to argue that he is really in the information business.

Some of those characters even believe it. But the cement around their ankles and thought processes keeps them slogging away with the old models and methods while the world changes quickly around them.

Tim McGuire, editor and senior vice president of the (Minneapolis) Star Tribune, is quoted on the subject in “The Art of Leadership in News Organizations” by Shelby Coffey III.

“Many people have heard the old story about railroads and how they should have realized they were in the transportation business in the same way newspapers ought to realize they are in the information business,” according to McGuire. “I heard someone else say a few years ago that in fact the railroad people knew they needed to be in the transportation business. They just loved the railroads so much they couldn’t make the change. There is a lot of that in our business.” Indeed there is.

Under attack

From adapted news cycles, changing views in objective journalism, and generally trying to come up with new ways of paying the bills, traditional newspapers quite correctly feel like the business is under attack.

And what is the natural reaction when under attack? Usually, hunker down in a hole and keep your head down. But if it doesn’t look like that is going to work, maybe it is time to try a counter-attack, or, alternatively, come out of the hole with all guns blazing.

In a world of instant feedback and precise, automated ad targeting — a lot of us waited far too long before coming out of that hole with guns blazing.

It is a bit like the scene in “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” where the whole Bolivian army is waiting.

“The losers are likely to be those companies that try to make money by pouring old-media wine into the new Web bottles,” notes Business 2.0 magazine in its March edition. “The winners will be the players that invent new ways to tap into what the Web brings to the party; instant feedback, instant analysis, and the collective wisdom of a billion users.”

Advertisers and the agencies that represent them have become much more savvy in finding out what works and what doesn’t — in a very short amount of time — and they vote with their wallets.

We have gone way past the days when someone could say, “Half of my advertising works like a charm and half does me absolutely no good, but the trouble is, I’m not sure which half is which.”

For example, ad agency Ogilvy & Mather now uses a software optimizer that runs 5,000 to 10,000 calculations every time it evaluates how well an ad campaign is working.

Dynamic results

With that data, the agency is able to pull non-performing ads right away or adapt the campaigns on the fly. And some advertising vendors on the Web have gone to a pay-for-performance program in which publishers only get paid for advertising if it sells product or creates verifiable results in the form of leads or an order.

Imagine if newspapers went to such a system.

The unfortunate truth of the matter is that newspapers, with a few exceptions, don’t even do a very good job of keeping track of their own vast stores of information, much less data tracking readers and how they use the information provided.

For that reason, I think a lot of the rhetoric about being in the information business is perhaps just wishful thinking.

###

Who is a journalist?

Type from the Hell Box in lockup.

“The liberty of the press is most generally approved when it takes liberties with the other fellow, and leaves us alone.” — Edgar Watson Howe, 1911.

Just because you can type, 

it doesn't mean you are journalist

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

This article first appeared in the May 2007 edition of "Newspapers & Technology." Having spent nearly 40 years in the 'legitimate press,' I currently blog at https://coloradopresslessnative.blogspot.com and http://coloradorestlessnative.blogspot.com.

We are all "the Press," and always have been.

 Who qualifies as “press”? The proliferation of blogs and other new technology is forcing journalists and professional associations to hammer out new ways of defining who’s eligible for press credentials. Consider what’s happened in Washington, D.C., where the Capitol Correspondent’s Association recently rewrote its rules governing who can sit in congressional press galleries.

The rules are strict, requiring applicants to prove that they are a full-time, paid correspondent who requires “on-site access to congressional members and staff.”

In addition, applicants must be employed by a periodical that can qualify under General Publication mailing privileges under U.S. Postal Service rules and publishes daily, or employed by an organization that disseminates original news and opinion and has been publishing continuously for at least 18 months.

Leaves us out, but …

 That sort of leaves out us poor, pitiful weekly newspaper folk, but, hey, who wants to listen to Congress all day anyway.
The organization goes on to exclude anybody who does not live in the Washington area and firmly disallows any lobbying, paid advocacy, advertising, publicity or promotion work.

Yet the advent of blogging and digital punditry has transformed the business. Anybody with a computer and access to a Web site can call himself a member of the press. But merely evoking the term, much like wishing for a winning lottery ticket, doesn’t necessarily make it so.

I write about this because of my role on the board of the Colorado Press Association, which has been asked to consider issuing stricter guidelines about who can obtain press credentials.

Main concern

 The main fear many have, I believe, is that by somehow posing as “legitimate press,” bloggers could further damage our already shaky reputations. But maybe some of the MSM’s reluctance is that it wants to remain exclusive and thus not admit any new members. After all, what we do is so important it forced the nation’s forefathers to make the first make-good to nothing less than the U.S. Constitution.

Bloggers, of course, have an association of their own (at least one) and they continue to flex their collective muscles as well.

Most recently, the Media Bloggers Association, a 1,000-member organization working to extend powers of the press to bloggers, was able to secure access for two blogger seats in the 100 seats reserved for media in the “Scooter” Libby trial.

 Blogging status

 Additionally, another blogger, Garrett M. Graff, became the first blogger to be granted a daily White House pass for the specific purpose of writing a Web log in early 2005, according to The New York Times.
In Graff’s case, his quest for White House press credentials was actually helped by members of the White House Correspondents Association.
In ensuring the invitation to Graff, the WHCA wanted to make sure it alone was responsible for redrafting the rules defining a legitimate journalist, according to The Times.

I think that point is well taken. It is up to journalists to define for themselves what is proper and correct in the context of associations and organizations offering professional credentials. But it is probably up to the public to determine whether those credentials mean anything in the future.

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