Roundup as a true source of daily news. To that end, he recently incorporated as a nonprofit with a board featuring firebrand Oregon pol Betsy Johnson, who’s a fan of his work. A legislator for two decades, Johnson tells OB that as legacy media declines, she’s gravitated more to the state’s “pirate press.” But Johnson once was an OPB believer, serving on its board of directors for around 15 years. Throughout her time in public life, which included a failed run for governor as an independent in 2022, Johnson says she grew disillusioned with OPB for its bias, sloppiness and predictability. “I wouldn’t give a dime to OPB at this point.” She expects OPB’s donor base will fatigue as nonprofit news grows as a business model. “The overall message I get out of this is people writ large are yearning for reliable press with integrity,” Johnson says. IN CONVERSATION, ETLING STILL SLIPS and calls Ashland.news “the paper.” He thinks a nice name might have been “The Daily Miracle,” a newspaper term alluding to the seeming impossibility of producing a daily print product despite immense challenges. “We’re making it up as we go along,” Etling says. “I think it’s going to work out, but I don’t know exactly how.” As a 30-year newspaper veteran, Etling’s never considered the business side of the news business his cup of tea. But he knows he needs to develop the taste. More than 1,200 people donated to Ashland.news last year. But only around 450 donors give monthly, and the organization believes 1,000 such sustainers are needed for long-term stability. It’s one reason the Ashland.news team marched in this year’s Ashland Fourth of July parade — Etling at the front, banner in hand. “Journalists never want to be part of the story,” he says. “But now we kind of have to be.” Etling says some earlier nonprofit news leaders held the incorrect assumption that “if you build it, they will come,” and focused on developing quality journalism but not the donor base needed to keep the lights on. Nonprofit journalists today must market what they do so audiences know that if they want quality news, they have to pay for it. In mid-November, Ashland.news sent a bulk mailer to every address in Ashland and Talent, 17,000 in all, dubbed its “first print edition” and containing useful local news articles, a holiday-events calendar and a call to donate in a year-end fundraiser. Ashland.news hopes to boost readership along with donations. Last year Ashland.news profiled a woman attending the local university while living homeless in a tent. Reporter Holly Dillemuth’s coverage drew the support of an anonymous donor who paid for housing for the woman. Etling is proud of the coverage, but the journalism he says he’s most proud of is the “day-in, day-out stuff” — candidate Q&As, meeting recaps, writeups of the new water-treatment plant — i.e., the stuff of daily miracles. With its university, world-renowned Shakespeare Festival and 21,000 residents, there’s a great need in Ashland. The decline of local news has left communities around Oregon lacking more than just award-worthy articles. Gone are the obits, local restaurant awards, youth-sports coverage and in-person candidate forums. Etling hears about it all the time. Ashlanders are clear that they’re grateful. And they’re clear what they want. “They want more.” — Garrett Andrews Herald; Jacksonville, the Applegater; and Newberg has Newsberg. Hood River’s Columbia Insight delivers environmental news, and Portland’s Underscore Native News covers tribes of the Pacific Northwest. (To be sure, Oregon’s media landscape features some experienced nonprofits not quite as old as OPB, including the 25-year-old street newspaper Street Roots and the 15-year-old health-news website The Lund Report.) Another venture, heading for Lane County in 2025, has UO’s Radcliffe and others in the field thoroughly excited. Renowned journalist and UO grad Ken Doctor plans to open the second newsroom of his startup Lookout Local in the Eugene-Springfield news desert and staff it with 20 people. In August Willamette Week co-owner Mark Zusman announced the launch of the Oregon Journalism Project, a nonprofit that will partner on investigative reporting projects with smaller newsrooms around the state. In 2019 WW, itself a for-profit company, launched a membership program that allows readers to donate to the paper at any level. Other forprofit outlets, including the Portland Mercury, have followed suit. The emerging news landscape in Oregon features outlets more open about their political orientation, like right-of-center online newsletters Portland Dissent and Oregon Roundup. Bend business lawyer Jeff Eager started the Roundup as the Bend Business Roundup in 2017 to draw clients to his practice. The mission shifted as he noticed readers respond to stories where his natural conservatism shone through. Eager has eyes to run the In recent years, OPB has expanded its digital offerings to include immersive podcasts, a daily “First Look” newsletter, a streaming app, and enterprise reporting collaborations with NPR and ProPublica. Smolkin is willing to sound off on editorial matters, something Bass is said to have generally left to his direct reports. “I see myself as over all aspects of OPB,” she says. “And news and storytelling are the engine for the work we do.” She’s a true believer in straightforward, nonpartisan coverage, another plank in the public-broadcasting mission. She’s proud of CNN’s even-handedness during her tenure, which started in 2014, and its professionalism in the face of fervid criticism by Trump and others. “When I was at CNN, we really focused on the news and serving our audiences,” she says. “We weren’t there to take things personally. We were there to serve audiences, and the team there was very conscious of that every single day.” For journalists, their best work is the stuff of professional growth. Once, early in Smolkin’s career, she found herself in Chester County, Penn., dreading her assignment. Her bosses at The Philadelphia Inquirer wanted her to profile a man who retrieved golf balls from water hazards, or bodies of water on golf courses where balls are typically considered irrecoverable. “I didn’t know anything about golf balls, or diving for golf balls,” she says. But once she established rapport with the subject, she learned a fascinating story of a minister called to take an unconventional path in life. Smolkin has covered a lot since then, including Donald Trump’s rise in American politics, as well as conflict in the Middle East and the Ukraine War. She’s won awards and traveled the globe on assignment. But no story has affected her quite like the man who dove for golf balls. “That might be considered a small story, but for me it was one of the most important stories I ever covered,” she says. “It showed me that each person really does have their own unique story to tell. “The ability to really listen and hear people helps so much, in journalism as well as in leadership,” she adds. “You have to listen to what people are telling you.” 35
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