Torricelli on The (Bergen) Record

The Record announced yesterday that it was closing its Hackensack offices and "reinventing"itself. It was actually announcing its own death without the benefit of the Obit page.

It reminded me of the death of an aging uncle. You felt badly because of the loss but you remembered all of the times that he kicked the dog and yelled at the kids.

It's a death march that started long ago. A generation ago, the Record was the Bible for suburban living in Bergen County. Every local football game, road closing and store opening filled its pages. It was "A Friend of the People it Serves". Somewhere it all fell apart.

It's easy to dismiss its death as an evitable result of changes in technology. The Internet will eventually destroy most newspapers but the looming death of the Record is still ahead of its time. Bergen County has among the best demographics in the United States. Incomes are high, educational levels are good and there's a real sense of local community. Available advertising from retailers may be the best in the nation.

It has everything that the Ledger, Inquirer and a dozen other papers lack. They'll survive another decade or two while the Record will be gone in a matter of a few years. Why?

One thing that Americans have never been is mean. Somewhere the Record stopped becoming a mirror of the happy suburban life and it became mean. Parents no longer came home to the evening paper and read about community life but were exposed to an endless barrage of columns, editorials and news articles that exposed everyone as greedy, corrupt, or inept.

The death of that mean old uncle might bring a tear or two. I won't be shedding any tears for the Record. Bergen County will be a better place without it but I regret what it did to itself. It didn't have to be.