Bottom-up sites really work. Knowledge of the community counts for a lot, and it’s no coincidence that some of the most robust projects originated from founders who are intimately versed in their communities and operate their sites as a labor of love. Most get little to no compensation for the untold hours of work they put into their sites. Others run their sites on top of paid jobs elsewhere.
It’s no coincidence that some of the most robust projects originated from founders who are intimately versed in their communities and operate their sites as a labor of love.
Jeremy Iggers was a long-time civic journalist convening community members while at the Minneapolis Star Tribune before he quit to launch TC Daily Planet. But after five years at the site, both he and top editor Mary Turck are only “part-time” workers.
New Castle NOW founders were at-home moms and long-time school activists and community catalysts when they directed their volunteer energies at launching a news site for their community.
Rural News Network co-founder Courtney Lowery knew Dutton, Mont., site of the Dutton Country Courier, because she grew up there. She worked on the site in addition to editing the regional NewWest.net and teaching at the University of Montana.
Grosse Pointe Today was aided by a $20,000 investment from founder Ben Burns, former executive editor of the Detroit News, and colleagues who have left daily journalism. Burns also works as a professor at Wayne State University.
Personal sacrifice in the early going is common. Oakland Local’s co-founders are opting to pay writers first before paying themselves, despite having raised $102,500 in the first 10 months of operations.
Top-down projects had a more challenging time making connections. Maryanne Reed tried to launch news programming for a community radio station in Monroe County, hours away from West Virginia University. It produced 140 newscasts, but is now inactive. Her advice:
“Learn about the community and listen … We learned these lessons the hard way, coming into Monroe County as outsiders with a distinct vision of what we wanted to accomplish and facing initial resistance to our plans and timetable.”
Donica Mensing, who launched Nuestro Tahoe in a heavily Hispanic community 50 miles away from the University of Nevada-Reno, identified as a significant barrier the “lack of genuine roots within the groups in the community.”