The little newspaper that could, defeating the major players and thriving in a hostile landscape
This plucky media outlet has seen off major challengers with deep pockets, economic crises and pandemics, and the digital revolution to be the sole surviving newspaper in its region. This is how the Western Weekender won an unwinnable war.
Much has changed in the western Sydney region over recent decades – its population, economy, housing prices, and especially its dedicated media sector.
Farmland has made way for sprawling housing estates while a small strip of shops has made way for a bustling business district. A new international airport is being built on its doorstep.
Where once there were multiple players fighting for the attention of Penrith locals, with some big fishes in the pond, now just one remains.
The Western Weekender launched in 1991 and wasn’t expected to last long given that major organisations dominated the region with multiple titles. Fast forward 32 years and the independently owned outlet is now the sole survivor of a bloody print war that raged through the 1990s and 2000s.
“This is a region that has confronted, and continues to confront, enormous growth,” managing editor Troy Dodds said.
“We feel an enormous responsibility to Penrith.”
Embracing a responsibility is one thing but doing it in a commercially viable way is another – especially when it comes to a printed news product.
Somehow, the Western Weekeder does it, producing a print edition each Thursday with 100-plus pages, including a property lift-out, filled with ads from major clients like McDonald’s, Hoyts, Sydney Zoo and Myer.
It has a circulation of 30,000 – which in this day and age, within a defined geographic area, is admirable.
On top of that, its digital and social media reach is an additional 85,000 people.
“That’s an extraordinary figure that nobody really comes close to matching in our region,” Dodds said.
The Western Weekender employs a team of local reporters.
During Covid, the trend of major players slowly divesting from suburban news accelerated significantly and dozens of papers were shuttered.
While some digital mastheads remain, they tend to be staffed by reporters who live and work far away, Dodds said.
“The big change a few years ago was when a number of the mainstream media organisations started centralising content. It might look good on a balance sheet, but you can’t write Penrith news from Parramatta or the city, for example.
“We’re proud to boast a local newsroom with full-time journalists who legitimately report on-the-ground.”
While the stakes might not be quite as dramatic as in the big smoke, local newspapers play an important role in holding the powerful to account.
Studies show council expenditure tends to rapidly increase when a region loses its paper – the theory being that brazen cash-splashing is easier when no-one is interested in watching.
“In so many communities around Australia right now, there isn’t a single journalist sitting in on council meetings, local court hearings, or speaking with local police,” Dodds said.
“We’re in one of the most connected communication eras in history, yet there is actually less information out there than ever when it comes to the communities in which we live.”
The paper also sponsors local community groups and clubs.
Competition from rival publications might’ve disappeared, but the war for eyeballs is now being fought on a digital battlefield.
Most suburbs have their own dedicated Facebook pages where residents share news and gossip, while small businesses are getting savvy on a whole host of platforms.
“That can be great, but it can also be fraught with danger – the misinformation that does the rounds on community groups is stunning, and it is often left up to us to correct the record,” Dodds said.
The spread of incorrect information in these types of groups can be dangerous.
Recently in southeast Queensland, a Facebook user shared the address of someone they claimed was responsible for a spate of crimes, leading an angry mob to show up on the doorstep of an innocent man.
“For us, what is really important is ensuring a community like ours has an impartial, independent media voice,” Dodds said.
The print product’s demographic trends probably aren’t that different to what similar papers were seeing over the past several decades. Long before the digital era, people in their 20s and 30s were unlikely to engage with a local newspaper in huge numbers, Dodds said.
“Local news tends to be something you become more interested in as you have kids, get a mortgage and settle down,” he said.
“[Even so], there is often a belief that print newspapers are being read by a much older person, but our readership survey shows 38% of print readers have kids under 18. That’s an extraordinary number and one that is of particular interest to advertisers and PR professionals.
“And digital has allowed us to access these age groups like never before – for example, the 35-44 and 25-34 age groups are our biggest audience on Facebook, whereas in print it’s that 40-plus demographic.”
Covering local issues on the ground is still important.
Dodds said one of the biggest challenges of his job isn’t circulation forecast nor digital innovation. It’s the poor knowledge “outsiders” have of Penrith itself, he said.
“We speak to advertising agencies, PR companies and city-based companies who think Penrith is a world away – not a leisurely 45-minute drive from the Sydney CBD, which it currently is.
“That’s challenging – because they are missing enormous opportunities in many cases to be in front of an audience with significant disposable income, who are used to mixing local community activities and businesses with bigger players.
“Penrith shrugged off the westie stereotype long ago and is now one of the most exciting, flourishing cities in Australia, but some have failed to recognise that.”
Terrific to see hard-working journalists producing a quality newspaper in hard times when others have fallen by the wayside.
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