560 pp., 7 x 10, 65 illus., bibl., index

This is extraordinary, given that too few institutions of higher learning offer classes titled "Community Journalism." Neither is there the equivalent of a seminal text, such as an AP Style Book of Community Journalism, nor is there a widely accepted gold standard of excellence for the field, such as the New York Times serves for the major metro dailies.

So, from whence cometh these enlightened community newspaper folk with their wonderful newspapers? I have long suspected that that like any grassroots phenomenon, great community journalism is organic. It just … is.

But that explanation, while poetic, fails to satisfy the student of community journalism or the professional who is ready to raise the bar. So this edition will attempt to get its arms around the factors of community journalism excellence by providing real-life examples. In a new best practices chapter (Chapter 20), I'm calling on some of my favorite community newspaper leaders to put it in their own words. In the end, I'm hoping that their wisdom will inspire you to do your best work starting right now, right where you are.

The beginner asks: Just what is community journalism anyway … ? Is it some newfangled gimmick … ? Is it "rural civic journalism?"

Community journalism, in form if not in name, has been around from the time of our founding fathers—and mothers! Though the practice is old, the term is relatively new. "Community journalism" got its name from long-time Montana editor-publisher Ken Byerly during his tenure as a professor of journalism at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill from 1957 to 1971.

In a letter written a year before his death, at age 90 in 1998, Byerly pecked away on an honest-to-God typewriter to tell how the name emerged: "When I came to the J-School the title that I inherited for one of my courses was 'Country Weekly Newspaper Production,' or some such. I didn't like it as the course was more than that. Another name you would hear back then in the trade journals and at J-Schools was 'Hometown Newspaper.' I didn't like that either because the number of good weeklies in city suburbs was growing rapidly. The title just didn't fit suburban papers. And nationally and in J-Schools they were talking only about weeklies and semi-weeklies. This didn't fit either as good dailies in small cities with circulations up to 5,000 and even 10,000, and sometimes in suburbs, were successful because they stressed local and area news, editorials, pictures, features and such that their readers couldn't get from big city dailies.

"So I mulled over the idea of a better name, and finally came up with 'Community Journalism.' It seemed to fit these weeklies and small dailies. Anyway, the dean agreed with me and the name of that course was changed to Community Journalism. Shortly after that [in 1961] my book, Community Journalism, was published [by Chilton]. It sold well and the name caught on. It became the name for the small dailies as well as weeklies and semi-weeklies."

And Byerly, true to form, ends with a prickly admonition: "It troubles me though that some J-School profs now include larger dailies of 30,000 circulation or more under the name of 'community newspapers,' which they are not."

He's talking about me there, for I include dailies with circulations up to 50,000 among the ranks of community papers.

These are the newspapers of the Blue Highways, off the interstates perhaps, journalism as practiced by weeklies and small dailies with an intensely local focus. Fully 97 percent of U.S. newspapers fit this description. So if you're a student of journalism, it's very likely you will be working at a community newspaper.

And yet, most graduates emerge from university journalism schools and schools of mass media and communication largely untrained and totally unprepared for what they encounter at papers of that size and nature—all the while that they're awaiting that call from the Washington Post or the National Geographic. The common misconception is that the community paper is a small version of the big-city daily. Nothing could be further from the truth. Little wonder then that newcomers find the community newspaper to be a bewildering journalistic briar patch.

And it's important to remember, as John Neibergall said in the introduction to the first edition of this book, this is not journalism for everyone. So beware, because your author, a former community newspaper editor-publisher, thinks it's tougher, more demanding and, as some would say, far more rewarding.

But remember this also: We are not better; just different. The differences between us and TV and big-city dailies are so profound, as one community newspaper editor says, "we might as well be a different species."

Try thinking about journalism in a fundamentally different way: throw out your preconceptions about TV journalism or big-city newspaper stakeouts for "sources." Get down. Get close to the earth. Get real.

Think about newspapers where reporters, editors and photographers are citizen-journalists, intimately involving themselves in the welfare of the place, in the civic life of their towns, participating as active members of the very community they're covering.

As a community journalist your approach is personal. Focus on one so-called real person reading your story. Picture his or her face as you tell him or her about the tax increase, the Little League game, the Girl Scout field day.

Then it's one person reading the story. Or looking at your picture. There's no "mass media." Only one person at a time reading the story, absorbing the photograph. Effective communication happens intimately, privately, quietly. 1:1. The personal approach.

I believe all small newspapers are community newspapers, even if they don't subscribe to the ideals presented in this book. In other words, these papers are sleepers that haven't yet awakened to what the late Nelson Poynter called their "sacred calling"—the responsibility, nobility and legacy of community journalism.

Throughout this book you will be meeting hundreds of real-life community newspaper men and women who care enough about their profession, our calling, to share their wisdom and experiences. You will also meet the staff of the Bugle, a mythical community paper that serves as a literary device, allowing me to put Community Journalism 101 lessons into parable form. The stories are absolutely true to the spirit of the scene and history. And in many cases, "Mark" or "Rachel" is your humble author, who, along the way, has made every mistake in the book, and then some.