In mid-October, the E.W. Scripps Company shut down Knoxville’s city paper, Metro Pulse. I was stunned and disappointed to hear the news, as the paper represented some of the best long-form journalism in Knoxville; the fact that it can be closed so callously points to the downward trends in print journalism across the country.
But Thursday, while walking along the railroad tracks below the Highway 40 overpass in downtown Knoxville, I discovered a community of homeless people who are particularly affected by the loss of the largest free newspaper in town. For them, the Metro Pulse was much more than a newspaper.
It was their fuel source.
Every week, 37,500 free newspapers could be picked up at 600+ locations around Knoxville and the surrounding counties. The publication had been printing since 1991, and for the hundreds of homeless people who camp in the urban wilderness around Knoxville, those papers have long served as ideal fire-starters and insulation.
The reasons that force these people to live outside vary. Some of them have mental illnesses, and after Lakeshore Mental Health Institute closed in 2012, they have slipped through the cracks of our social welfare system and into the undergrowth along Second Creek. Others have criminal records that keep them from qualifying for housing. Although the city has plenty of agencies and organizations that work to help these people find housing, outstanding fines, bills and charges keep them from getting into the system. Drug addiction and alcoholism is common.
Of all the things these people share – the contaminated water in the creek, the anonymity of life in Knoxville’s underbelly – none was more ever-present than their collective reliance on the Metro Pulse. In tent after tent, the charred remains in fire pits and layers of newspapers testified to the importance of a free weekly newspaper. I found nearly 50 campsites in two hours, all packed within a half mile stretch along Second Creek and the railroad tracks, and every single one had at least one Metro Pulse laying around.
It’s hard to say what the close of the paper will mean to people like David, a man with a moustache and ubiquitous cigarette in his mouth. He’s lived in a blue tent by the tracks for four months, the latest location in what he says has been a 15 year homeless experience. He didn’t say why he camped, but he had a camping stove and plenty of food from food pantries. This man was professionally homeless. When I asked him what he was going to use in place of Metro Pulse, he simply said, “I don’t know.”
The Daily Beacon is also free. Ten thousand papers are printed each day, distributed in more than 90 locations around the city. Unfortunately for guys like David, most of these locations are on campus, an area heavily patrolled by university police, and the trip to pick up papers could be risky.
I have no doubt these campers will figure something out. They are endlessly resourceful, constantly finding ways to make money and get by. Some mine and sell iron ore out of the abandoned site of the old Knoxville Iron Works factory; others sell prescription medications for as much as $20/pill or panhandle around town. They hang their food from tree limbs in plastic bags to keep their food from animals, and many have engineered elaborate lean-tos from tarps and wires.
But Halloween night was cold. The tents, lean-tos and bundles of donated clothing can only do so much against 36 degrees, and some meteorologists have predicted a rough winter may soon be upon us. The ability to make fire and insulate will soon be more important than ever.
And for hundreds of homeless people, the newspapers they have depended on for two decades won’t be available. As journalism continues to move away from ink words on dead trees, it’s not just print journalists like me who are in trouble.
It’s the people who live and die in the guts of Knoxville, the most needy among us, who needed it most.
R.J. Vogt is a senior in College Scholars. He conducted the research for this column while observing social workers in a program within Knoxville’s Community Action Committee. He can be reached at [email protected].