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In 1896, Adolph S. Ochs, the 38-year-old publisher of what is now The Chattanooga Times Free Press, was wrestling with a problem. That March, he had received a telegram from Harry Alloway, an acquaintance and reporter for The New York Times, a paper in decay. Mr. Alloway wrote that after years of struggling, The Times could be bought for a relatively small amount of money. It was in desperate need of rescue, but Mr. Ochs didn’t think he was capable of taking on such a challenge.
Herman H. Kohlsaat, the owner of The Chicago Times-Herald, gave Mr. Ochs some advice over dinner: “Don’t tell anybody, and they’ll never find out.”
Eventually he was persuaded. A day after assuming the role of publisher of The Times, Mr. Ochs made a promise in the pages of the paper, under the headline “Business Announcement”: “to give the news impartially, without fear or favor, regardless of party, sect, or interests involved.” Those few words, it turned out, would help bring the paper back from the brink.
Impartiality, in which a clear distinction is drawn between the editorial section and the news report, is a cornerstone of newspapers today. But in the late 19th century, it was somewhat unusual. Papers openly aligned with political parties, and journalists often wove their opinions into their articles. New York tabloids known as penny presses thrived in such an environment; during the Spanish-American War, for example, William Randolph Hearst’s New York Journal and Joseph Pulitzer’s New York World made a killing providing so-called “yellow journalism” to readers — exaggerated and sometimes fantastical accounts of the war, available for just 1 cent.
Mr. Ochs had faced a similar situation in Chattanooga. The population there, torn apart in previous decades by the Civil War, was mistrustful; he revitalized the declining and mismanaged paper by developing its reputation for reliable and dispassionate coverage.
In 1896, The Times was the fourth-largest of the serious newspapers in New York City. There was The New York Sun, which, in Mr. Ochs’s opinion, was weak in reporting; The New York Herald, which catered to high society; and The New York Tribune, which made no secret of its Republican leanings. (The Times itself had demonstrated both Republican and Democratic political biases at different times over its five-decade existence, and leaned Democrat since the election of Grover Cleveland in 1884.) In other words, there was room in the market for a paper readers could trust.
The Times needed some fixing up in other ways as well. The paper was difficult to read and lacked the necessary funds to produce regular photography, which Mr. Ochs immediately addressed by changing the type and improving the presses. Cuts were made — including serial fiction — as well as additions, some of which remain to this day: Mr. Ochs’s wife, Effie Wise Ochs, loved literature and persuaded him to add a book review.
Under new management, advertisers called more, and The Times earned back much of its former respect from readers. But by the beginning of the Spanish-American War in 1898, it was still in debt, and its long-term viability was still in doubt. While The New York Journal and The New York World were able to use the profits reaped from selling sensationalized reports to send boats full of correspondents to the conflict, The Times published Associated Press articles because of a lack of funds.
After the war, struggling circulation drove Mr. Ochs to execute one of the riskiest business decisions of his career: He lowered the cost of the paper to 1 cent, from 3 cents.
Some of the paper’s staff at the time argued that the new price would place The Times in the same disreputable category as the yellow papers. Unrelenting, Mr. Ochs insisted that the paper would remain committed to the standards he had set a few years earlier — no fear, no favor — and said he believed a large number of potential readers in the penny market would gladly switch over.
He was right. By the turn of the 20th century, circulation was almost 91,000, up from 9,000 when the paper was bought just four years earlier. Andrew Carnegie, one of the richest men alive, called the paper “the best cent’s worth” in the world.
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红五图库3d图白天鹅【王】【冒】【只】【是】【笑】【了】【笑】，【这】【些】【女】【真】【人】【还】【当】【自】【己】【能】【与】【大】【明】【谈】【判】【吗】？【什】【么】【孤】【身】【进】【城】，【显】【然】【这】【既】【是】【下】【马】【威】，【也】【是】【在】【试】【探】【明】【军】【的】【底】【限】。 “【让】【海】【西】【三】【部】【的】【人】【准】【备】，【等】【下】【他】【们】【可】【先】【一】【步】【进】【城】。”【王】【冒】【传】【令】【道】。 【当】【海】【西】【三】【部】【的】【人】【听】【到】【了】【王】【冒】【的】【命】【令】【之】【后】，【不】【由】【得】【都】【脸】【上】【带】【有】【苦】【色】。【虽】【然】【说】【的】【虽】【然】【好】【听】，【但】【这】【明】【显】【是】【让】【他】【们】【三】【部】【的】【人】【马】【攻】
【演】【唱】【会】【还】【没】【结】【束】，【微】【博】【上】【两】【条】【热】【搜】【突】【然】【排】【位】【飙】【升】，【很】【快】【就】【升】【到】【了】【第】【一】【第】【二】【两】【位】，【牢】【牢】【霸】【屏】。 【关】【于】【慕】【言】【白】【独】【奏】【会】【信】【息】【的】【热】【搜】【虽】【然】【也】【迅】【速】【升】【了】【上】【去】，【不】【过】【只】【升】【到】【第】【三】【位】，【于】【是】【所】【有】【人】【一】【点】【进】【微】【博】，【看】【见】【的】【就】【是】【热】【搜】【榜】【上】【醒】【目】【的】【标】【题】。 ［【作】【家】【笑】【染】【千】【尘】【与】***【人】【在】【好】【友】【独】【奏】【会】【激】【情】【拥】【吻】，【疑】【似】【恋】【情】【曝】【光】。］ ［【兰】
【夜】【江】【寒】【才】【不】【管】【岑】【曦】【凤】【她】【去】【不】【去】，【他】【不】【管】【药】【王】【到】【底】【是】【多】【么】【强】【大】，【自】【己】【的】【女】【人】【自】【己】【不】【需】【要】【别】【人】【保】【护】。 【药】【王】【可】【以】【说】【是】【这】【个】【世】【界】【最】【大】【的】【实】【力】，【虽】【然】【他】【们】【的】【战】【斗】【力】【是】【这】【个】【大】【陆】【最】【弱】【的】，【但】【是】【他】【们】【医】【术】【惊】【人】，【起】【死】【回】【生】！【而】【医】【术】【又】【与】【毒】【术】【分】【不】【开】，【因】【此】【他】【们】【的】【防】【守】【特】【别】【好】。 【大】【陆】【上】【的】【每】【一】【个】【国】【家】【都】【当】【药】【王】【那】【里】【面】【的】【人】【当】【宝】，【每】红五图库3d图白天鹅【于】【是】，【喻】【笙】【开】【了】【杜】【瑾】【和】【的】【车】，【带】【着】【布】【尼】【尔】【回】【自】【己】【公】【寓】【了】，【留】【那】【俩】***【在】【酒】【店】【自】【生】【自】【灭】。 【回】【公】【寓】【前】，【喻】【笙】【还】【带】【着】【布】【尼】【尔】【去】【超】【市】【里】【逛】【了】【一】【圈】，【买】【了】【布】【尼】【尔】【需】【要】【的】【睡】【衣】【和】【洗】【漱】【用】【品】，【又】【买】【了】【些】【吃】【的】【才】【回】【去】。 【第】【一】【次】【来】【到】【喻】【笙】【的】【公】【寓】，【布】【尼】【尔】【显】【然】【十】【分】【激】【动】，【又】【带】【着】【点】【拘】【谨】。 【喻】【笙】【见】【他】【眼】【睛】【提】【溜】【提】【溜】【地】【转】【着】，【明】【明】
【在】【最】【后】【一】【刻】，【我】【觉】【得】【应】【该】【跟】【皇】【上】【说】，【年】【年】【的】【事】【情】【真】【的】【跟】【他】【没】【有】【关】【系】。 【如】【果】【要】【是】【华】【山】【真】【的】【愿】【意】【误】【会】【他】【的】【话】，【知】【道】【说】【什】【么】【了】。 【但】【是】【他】【能】【保】【证】【的】【是】【自】【己】【从】【来】【没】【有】【生】【活】。 【伤】【害】【过】【年】【年】【当】【初】【跟】【皇】【上】【这】【么】【说】。 【实】【际】【上】【就】【是】【为】【了】【想】【他】【做】【出】【抉】【择】，【如】【果】【要】【是】【皇】【上】【最】【后】【不】【选】【择】【念】【念】【的】【话】，【也】【是】【没】【有】【关】【系】【的】。 【林】【一】【木】【觉】【得】