They used to call it “The Paper.” Rolled up and rubber-banded, dropped on porches before sunrise, passed across barbershop counters and church pews, clipped and taped to refrigerators. From Highland Park to Benton Harbor, the local newspaper wasn’t just how people got the news—it was how they knew their power.
Now, almost half of Michigan’s counties are down to just one or no local news outlet at all. Since 2005, the state has lost 40 percent of its newspapers. The number has dropped from 280 to around 202. What’s missing now can’t be replaced by tweets or push notifications. It’s the everyday, ground-level reporting that used to hold school boards, mayors, landlords, and police departments accountable. It’s the presence of a reporter in a town hall meeting, not just when there’s a crisis, but when policy gets shaped in real time.
That urgency brought more than a dozen leaders together on July 22 inside the Detroit Athletic Club. The gathering—organized by the Local Media Association alongside Northwestern’s Medill School of Journalism, Detroit PBS, Michigan State University, and Knight Foundation—called attention to what’s been disappearing quietly for years. The absence has grown loud. The summit focused on the consequences of that silence.
Tanisha Leonard, president of Pitch Black and chair of the LMA Foundation, made it plain. “This moment demands a united front,” she said. “We launched this to raise awareness and equip leaders… We hope that what we build in Michigan can be replicated in other states.” The goal wasn’t just to assess loss, but to chart a path toward rebuilding. The session was livestreamed by Detroit PBS and rebroadcast to reach a broader network of journalists, funders, and community stakeholders.
The data is clear. More than 58 percent of journalism jobs in Michigan have been lost in the past 15 years. One in four newspapers has closed. Nationwide, 1,561 counties have only one remaining news outlet, while 206 have none. Michigan mirrors that pattern. Across the state, millions live in what researchers now call “news deserts”—regions where residents have little to no access to trusted, consistent local coverage.
Chuck Todd, longtime political journalist and former moderator of “Meet the Press,” moderated the summit’s core panel. When he asked leaders when this crisis began, the responses pointed to a gradual shift that gained momentum in the early 2000s. Nicole Avery Nichols, executive editor of the Detroit Free Press, explained what she saw. “I got into this business about 30 years ago and we haven’t been in crisis for the full 30 years, but what I can say now is that it’s shrinking… Since the 2000s I’ve seen staffing shrinking. There’s exciting things happening, but we can’t deny that journalism has gotten into a small space.”
Nichols emphasized the effect the pandemic had on newsroom operations and public need. “The pandemic and facing a global crisis clarified the need to amplify the commitment to our community. We’ve seen newsrooms shut down,” she said. “We are focused on partnerships… and the ability to amplify other media outlets. We just like everyone else are in a place where we need to create value for the viewer.”
The issue isn’t isolated to newspapers. Broadcast media has also seen reductions in staff, resources, and viewer trust. The ability to maintain consistent local coverage, particularly in regions without urban population centers, continues to decline. The reach of Detroit PBS can inform thousands across the state, but regions like Genesee County now rely on a single regularly published paper—The Flint Journal, which reduced its print schedule back in 2009.
Wendy Turner, executive director of Michigan Public, addressed the implications of losing federal public media support during the Trump administration. “We’re going to have to create deeper partnerships with our colleagues, build expanded relationships, and we want to reach more people and be more of service to the greater range of where these news deserts are,” she said. “In public media we do have diversity of funding sources. That is still a good model… But we’ve had a shock to the system.”
That shock has been felt across the state. The loss of federal funding and shrinking ad revenue—estimated at 60 percent over the last decade—have forced outlets to pivot. Many have turned toward philanthropy, events, and digital innovation just to keep going.
Hiram E. Jackson, publisher of the Michigan Chronicle and CEO of Real Times Media, shared the approach that kept his newsroom alive. “I wasn’t raised in this industry. I was a marketer, so my foundation is creative revenue,” he said. “The one thing that I knew was that the Michigan Chronicle was an organization that has had a lot of credibility, and for 90 years we’ve done everything not to compromise that. Twenty years ago we started an event division… That wasn’t popular, but today we do about 60 events. We have developed ancillary businesses to include in our newsroom. Without these creative revenues, we’d be out of business.”
Jackson stressed the importance of reaching beyond expected circles. “We’re trying to diversify how people see our content… produce more video to broaden the reach,” he said.
Todd added, “media has the same problem as politics. They’ve gotten too far away from the people.”
Duc Luu, director of journalism at the Knight Foundation, noted that the trends being discussed have been in motion for more than two decades. “There’s been a 25-plus year decline in journalism. Each of those moments has marked a lower low when it comes to the mission of informing our communities,” he said.
LaTrice McClendon, program director at the Knight Foundation, spoke to Detroit’s role as a center of innovation but made clear that gaps remain. “Detroit is a bright spot… but if the local news isn’t reporting on what we’re funding, how do we get people to know what we’re doing or who we are?” she said. “We fund those who are deeply in the community… We need more collaboration in this city. We can do better. As we invest, we are looking to make sure that folks are collaborating because we want sustainability, and how we see that is through partnerships and collaboration.”
Melissa Davis, network director at Press Forward, reinforced the role philanthropy can play in expanding access and building resilience. “This is an industry that has been in a crisis for years now,” she said. “The great thing that philanthropy can do is bring innovation capital to local newsrooms to try new things that they may not have been able to do within the last decade or two.”
Catherine Badalamente, CEO of Graham Media Group, addressed the foundation of community trust. “We matter so much because we care so deeply,” she said. “They’re our neighbors. The people in the newsroom get up every day and are committed to telling stories that matter to the community.”
Those words reflect the mission that brought so many to the summit. For Michigan’s Black press, for longtime publishers and new digital platforms, for public radio and small-town weeklies—the work has always been about service. Nichols added, “There’s nothing in this day and age as journalists that we snub our nose to that’s a need for the community.” She reminded attendees that 90 percent of journalism is service to people.
The summit at the Detroit Athletic Club marked a beginning, not a solution. Participants left with a mandate. Strengthen partnerships. Expand public media. Train the next generation. Fund innovation. Document truth. In Michigan, the urgency is clear. Over one million residents live with limited access to local news. The cost of doing nothing will fall on those already underserved.
Local journalism in Michigan needs more than conversation. It needs support. Community members can subscribe, donate, share stories, and show up for the outlets that continue to report on issues that shape daily life. Institutions must form partnerships that reach beyond their own walls. Philanthropy must stay close to the people doing the work. This moment calls for commitment to truth, service, and collaboration. Sustaining local news means investing in the people who report from the ground, reflect the community, and protect public trust.
