The World's Biggest Newspaper

By WILLIAM A. HENRY III

Tempering accurate, serious reporting with a touch of caution

Reporters for Yomiuri Shimbun travel in the style that newspapermen elsewhere only think they should: in chauffeur-driven limousines adorned with the newspaper's red-and-white corporate flag. If a chauffeur exceeds the speed limit, no policeman is likely to issue a ticket; instead, a deferential officer may call out, "Yomiurisan, please take pains to slow down. Many thanks." For a longer trip, reporters may fly in one of Yomiuri's four helicopters or three airplanes. The paper also operates Japan's foremost professional baseball team, the Yomiuri Giants, founded in 1934 as a circulation gimmick; a 150-acre amusement park called Yomiuriland; a symphony orchestra that has been conducted by Zubin Mehta and Mstislav Rostropovich; and periodic exhibits of paintings by such artists as Renoir and Van Gogh.

Probably no other newspaper anywhere operates on so grand a scale or plays so varied a role in its nation. But then, Yomiuri Shimbun is not just Japan's biggest newspaper, it is the world's biggest newspaper. Its still growing morning and evening circulation of 13.6 million (including a 30,000-copy daily edition in English) is bigger than that of the 17 largest U.S. dailies put together. Yomiuri operates 436 bureaus in Japan and 28 in the rest of the world. Its editorial staff of 3,059, quadruple that of the New York Times, produces a daily paper of 24 to 32 pages with numerous updated and regional editions. The paper reaches 38% of Japan's 34 million households, almost a11 by home delivery. More than 60% of the subscribers buy both morning and evening editions (joint price: about $11 a month).

The Japanese newspaper field includes four other giants: Asahi Shimbun (circ. 12.1 million), which is Yomiuri's longtime rival; Mainichi (circ. 6.9 million); Sankei (circ. 3.1 million); and the business-oriented Nihon Keizai, or "Nikkei" (circ. 3 million). Though the 119 million Japanese are known as a TV-obsessed society, they buy 68 million copies of 125 daily newspapers, making them perhaps the world's most devoted newspaper readers.

The big dailies, except sober Nikkei, are viewed by readers as lively, even racy, but generally are accurate, cover serious news, and strive for objectivity (Yomiuri is, however, a zealous cheerleader for its own holdings). A typical Page One of Yomiuri will include consumer-oriented Japanese news as well as reports, especially human interest, from abroad. Inside are an editorial page, sports, business and women's news. The paper diligently covers crime, but stories are rarely explicit about sex or gore. All Japanese newspapers are privately owned; indeed, none sells shares on a public exchange. At Yomiuri, as at its rivals, a large block of stock is held in trust for employees. The major newspapers consider themselves independent from political figures, and advertisers: only 40% of Yomiuri's revenues come from advertising, vs. up to 70% for big U.S. papers. Most of Yomiuri's top officers are former reporters or editors.

Yomiuri and its two largest rivals compete for scoops in the go-getter fashion of Fleet Street. Yet the Japanese newspapers can be cautious, often in concert, to the point of professional embarrassment: the 1974 allegations of financial misconduct that brought down Prime Minister Kakuei Tanaka were first exposed in a magazine, Bungei Shunju; the Big Three newspapers did not pick up the story for weeks. Moreover, supposedly competing journals band together in a peculiarly Japanese institution, the "press clubs." At major sources of news (government ministries, political party headquarters, the 47 police prefectures), correspondents from daily newspapers control the flow of information. Though most politicians profess to hate the press, they comply with club rules. Generally, only a member may ask questions at press conferences; in some cases, only members may attend. Membership is denied to magazine reporters and foreigners.

In recent years, the Japanese press has become less of a monolith. All of the Big Three papers are occasionally xenophobic, but Yomiuri has grown conservative and progovernment, positions that Asahi and Mainichi generally do not share. Moderate support of the government reflects a gradual but radical change at Yomiuri, which was built on suspicion toward whoever was in power.

Founded in 1874, the paper dates its rise from 1924, when it was bought by a former police official, Matsutaro Shoriki. A business associate of the American press lord William Randolph Hearst, Shoriki echoed Hearst's populist impulses in his own dictum, "Do not trust experts because they know nothing of the masses."

Yomiuri was the first major Japanese paper to run a full list of radio programs and later formed Japan's first commercial TV network. Shoriki's most enduring brainchild was baseball, which he helped popularize. Says one Yomiuri official: "Each time the Giants win, our readers yell 'Banzai!' while watching them over our NTV, and again when reading about them in our paper."

After Shoriki died in 1969, the paper was headed by Mitsuo Mutai, 87, who is known as hanbai no kamisama--god of newspaper sales.

In June, Mutai was succeeded by Yosoji Kobayashi, 70, a son-in-law of Shoriki.

Yomiuri has no trouble attracting reporting talent: some 2,000 university graduates competed this spring for 38 jobs by taking Yomiuri's test. It includes history, civics and foreign languages (reporters must be fluent in at least one), and poses such journalistic problems as devising a story to fit a photograph. Jobs last until retirement; it is all but unthinkable for a Japanese reporter to shift to public relations. The glamorous style of travel helps compensate Yomiuri reporters for a modest salary (the average: $24,500). One aspect of working life that would displease most Western reporters: Yomiuri gives almost no bylines. Editorial Board Chairman Tsuneo Watanabe explains, "I would want to develop star reporters, but the Japanese tradition of anonymity among writers dies hard." If any one thing would make Japanese newspapering seem utterly alien to U.S. reporters, that is it: journalists who prefer to be unknown and who nonetheless ride in limousines. --By William A. Henry III.

Reported by S. Chang/Tokyo

With reporting by S. Chang This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.