The Altamont Enterprise is a mirror — a reflection of us, an opportunity to take stock

Last month, The Greenwich Journal and Salem Press — published just a stone’s throw to our northeast in Washington County — celebrated its 177th anniversary as one of America’s oldest continuously published newspapers.  

Last week, in the wake of the heartbreaking death of its 44-year-old owner, that historic local publication locked its doors and shuttered the windows, retiring a voice that for nearly two centuries informed Washington County’s citizens, expressed their ambitions, and chronicled their colorful lives.   

Heavy sigh.  2019 has offered too many occasions to note that all good things must come to an end.

By this point, you’re no doubt sufficiently familiar with my neuroses to be unsurprised that this news sent me into a full-blown panic.  Ergo, I hereby DEMAND answers of Enterprise co-publisher Melissa Hale-Spencer, and have thus assembled the following list of seven questions, presented with as much hysteria as the typeface will permit:

1. WHAT IS THE ALTAMONT ENTERPRISE’S CONTINGENCY PLAN IN THE EVENT OF CATASTROPHIC CATACLYSM?!?!  

2. HAS THE MANAGERIAL STAFF CODIFIED THE EDITORIAL LINE OF SUCCESSION?!?!?!

3. HOW DOES THE ENTERPRISE INTEND TO PERMANENTLY PRESERVE AND MAKE PUBLICLY ACCESSIBLE ITS VAST DIGITAL ARCHIVES?!?!?!

4. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR QUARTERLY BUSINESS PROJECTIONS DON’T EXTEND TWO CENTURIES INTO THE FUTURE?!?!?  Relatedly: WHO WILL CARRY FORTH THE ENTERPRISE’S BANNER AND MASTHEAD IN THE YEAR 2219?!?!  

5. DID SOMEONE WRITE DOWN THE WEBSITE’S ADMIN PASSWORD JUST IN CASE?!?!?!

6. WHERE IS THE ACCOUNT INFORMATION FOR THE DAMN ELECTRICITY BILL, AND HAS IT BEEN PAID OR NOT?!?!?!

7. IS ANYBODY LISTENINGGGGGGG?????

While the probability that Ms. Hale-Spencer will soon be abducted by extraterrestrials is admittedly slim, denying that possibility is statistically irresponsible.  It’s simple math, folks: 2 + 2 = 4.

Sure, you’d be forgiven for forgetting that Ms. Hale-Spencer is mortal.  At the helm of the Altamont Enterprise since 1994, she’s become an award-winning institution in her own right, breathing new life into this vibrant and venerable local publication.  (It’s a stupendous feat at a time when the carcasses of celebrated print publications line the morgues of local counties and nationwide markets alike.)  

But nothing lasts forever.  And almost by design, the new media which has emerged to fill the void left by the loss of regional news outlets like The Greenwich Journal and Salem Press usually lack the journalistic standards, credible research, and diligent reporting which — at its best — defines the local print media industry.  

In an age where Instagram influencers unabashedly manipulate their photos, “deep fake” videos look more real than reality, and paid advertisements masquerade as factual reporting, the Altamont Enterprise nonetheless remains an unassailable staple of objective truth and dignified integrity.  It’s our shared imperative to preserve this hometown newspaper. 

To be clear, I’m not just referencing the Enterprise’s physical manifestation; the “paper” component isn’t the essential product, so much as the classic vehicle by which that essential product is delivered.  

The essential product, of course, is the information that the Enterprise contains.  And information never grows stale; the Altamont Enterprise is as vital and useful now as it was in 1884 when its first issue tumbled off the presses.  

Today, the Enterprise emerges from more than just presses. I’m routinely impressed by the diligence of Enterprise staff as they leverage the power of podcasting, Facebook Live, email newsletters, digital newsfeed announcements, Instagram stories, and one of the internet’s most navigable websites to reach us wherever we may be, whenever we need the update.

But my exalted congratulations for this weekly publication have less to do with its form than its function, for there’s an even more critical observation about media outlets, generally, that is truest about the Enterprise, specifically.  

And that is this:  The Altamont Enterprise is a mirror — a reflection of us, an opportunity to take stock of who we are and what our locality deems important.  

It’s the core legacy bequeathed unto us by those who inhabited Home before we arrived.  It was through its pages that a conception of “place” first came into being, in a manner that could be reported, recounted, and recalled.

Even now, it’s through the Enterprise and its letters to the editor that we develop a sense of “us”.  As communities grow increasingly transient and individuals slip into more isolated existences, exploring the Enterprise cover-to-cover affords readers a chance to peek into the lives of the genuine neighbors who share a connection to this little corner of the planet.  By listening or contributing to that ongoing conversation, we develop an identity that binds us together, instilling significance into the municipal boundaries which unite us in the first place.  

Take a second to consider what you’re reading right now.  Have you taken for granted that our letters to the editor are written by neighbors, edited by neighbors, and then published by neighbors for the benefit of neighbors?  

What you’re holding in your hands isn’t managed by some far-off corporation with only the remotest of passing concerns for local affairs, driven by a bottom-line commercial imperative that cheapens and determines coverage.

Nor is it the chaotically unconstrained emotional slugfest of social media, as illustrated by the hilarious October 29th Facebook comment thread on which our community’s worst impulses amassed in response to the Village of Voorheesville’s cautiously tentative proposal to move Halloween to Saturday on account of rain.  (I’ve never before witnessed angry-face emojis weaponized with such elegant precision.)      

Not everyone has access to such a robust independent press.  It’s no hyperbole to claim that the Enterprise embodies that most sacred of Constitutional ideals in our American experiment.  For what else is freedom but the right to have a thought, and to then publicly express it? Can it even be called “democracy” if voting citizens are nonetheless uninformed, and unconcerned with each other’s welfare?     

As it happens, I’m writing this op-ed on Veteran’s Day, and am thus reminded of what I actually defend in my capacity as a Servicemember.  (To that end: Thank you for your service, Enterprise!) 

In January, I deploy to fight in a distant war in an even more distant land far away from home, in service to a country whose freedom affords Americans the space to continually renew themselves.  The best part of our country is its promise, its encapsulation of ideals, and the fact that it contains the people I care about most. From the other side of the world, the Enterprise will keep me connected to it all.

Less a Voorheesvillager, or a New Yorker, or even an American, it’s most accurate to define me as:  “A reader of the Altamont Enterprise & Albany County Post”. Because no matter where the Army takes me, I can always claim a place in that demographic — among the people of the Hilltowns, the New Scots and Albanites, the Guilderlish and Bethlhemites — where the issues on which the Enterprise reports remain the ones for which I feel the most direct responsibility, the ones I’m most able to influence, the ones that are most worth influencing.

This Thanksgiving, take a moment to think of the people of Washington County, whose stories just became a bit harder to tell.  Then offer either silent or raucous thanks, as suits you, to the heroes of local journalism: To the Sean Mulkerrins of the world, and the Elizabeth Floyd Mairs and Noah Zweifels, the Michael Koffs and Carol Coogans, the Ellen Schreibsteins and Holly Busches, the Jo E. Prouts and Cherie Lussiers, the Marcello Iaias and myriad local columnists.  

And then, lend your indignant voice to my righteous fury as though we’re posting on Facebook: “WHAT’S THE PLAN, HALE-SPENCER?!?!”  Your flock demands answers, and your heroes deserve a permanent home. For as long as there exist Old Men of the Mountain — the ranks of whom I’ll one day join — there must always be an Enterprise to chronicle their exploits.  

Since penning my inaugural column last January, I’ve been honored to be a part of this 135-year-old organization, addressing those whose perspectives have been similarly shaped by the view of a sun setting over ancient Helderbergs.  In high school twenty years ago, the Enterprise published my adolescent musings via the Helderbarker insert; it’s a privilege to speak to that same audience from the Enterprise’s opinion pages now.   

And in exchange for your collective indulgence — for tolerating my monthly trespass on these opinion pages — I offer the following verses so that you might join me in toasting our own beloved Gray Lady.  Ahem:  

By newsstand (and by newsfeed), on Thursday the Enterprise comes!

It contains a collection of articles covering all of the things that we done.

The faces inside look familiar, for we’ve seen all these faces before—

some more weathered than in the past, but still faces of those we adore.

A PTA meeting makes excellent reading when it’s written up in the news;

the zoning board… local sports scores… an assortment of your neighbors’ views.

And what could be better for letters to editor than a citizen who reads?

You don’t always get the news that you want; you get the news that you need.

We know all these names—these names are the same as the names of our children and friends.

That’s what makes this news so important: it’s news of the Home we defend.  

So to all my neighbors and ne’er-do-wells, let’s raise our glass for a toast:

“Three cheers to the Altamont Enterprise and the Albany County Post!”

#SayonaraStewarts

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Captain Jesse Sommer is a paratrooper in the United States Army’s 7th Special Forces Group (Airborne).  He is a lifelong resident of Albany County.

Editor’s response: Of course, The Enterprise will rely on its subscribers in years to come, when this editor is long gone, to support the journalism vital to democracy, whatever form that takes.

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