Telling a Town About Itself

By James Kelly

Never let it be said that the editorial staff of the Free Lance-Star (all 36 of them) eases into the day. By 7:30 a.m., Charles Rowe, the co-publisher of the Fredericksburg, Va., newspaper, is at his desk, perusing stories ready for that day's edition. Josiah Rowe, who shares the publishing chores with his brother, is reading his mail. Managing Editor Bob Baker is preparing for the 8:00 a.m. story conference, while Obituary Writer Eileen Mead is already fielding calls from those with sad news. And, oh, yes, one of the younger reporters, maybe Daryl Lease, perhaps Maria Carrillo, has run across the street to Scotty's Bakery for coffee and doughnuts.

Just another morning at the Free Lance-Star, which has been serving Fredericksburg and its surrounding counties for more than 100 years. One of America's nearly 1,700 daily newspapers, the Star (circ. 34,464) is not exactly the nation's best known. Yet within the scope of its own ambitions, % the Star embodies what is sturdy and special about American journalism. Owned by the Rowe family, the paper is adamantly independent of any power outside the newsroom. Though the paper carries foreign and national news, its true value lies in its coverage of the local scene, from city council sessions to school basketball games. Blessedly free of boosterism, the Star often casts a critical eye over its own backyard. It is small newspapers like the Star --independent in tone, enterprising in coverage and devoted to exploring local issues thoroughly--that exemplify the grass-roots strength of American journalism.

When Charles Rowe, now 61, and Josiah, 58, inherited the paper from their father in 1949, only 55,000 people lived in Fredericksburg and four neighboring counties. The Star had six editorial employees, type was set by hand, and circulation fell shy of 6,500. Today the population is 134,800 and Spotsylvania is one of the fastest-growing counties in Virginia. Meanwhile, the Star has entered the high-tech age, with 23 computer terminals in the cramped newsroom and an offset printing press next door.

The Star's audience has also grown more diverse, ranging from federal employees who commute the 50 miles to Washington to the watermen who fish the Chesapeake Bay. What those residents have in common is a need to know what is going on in their immediate world, and from Monday through Saturday (there is no Sunday edition) the Star meets that need as completely as any paper can. The front page features at least two local stories a day, while one of the paper's four sections is devoted entirely to area news (the other three: general news, sports, and life-style).

Like any other local paper, the Star chronicles the quotidian, printing births and deaths, the names of patients discharged from the hospital, the details of arrests and fires. But the Star also searches for the significance behind the news, interpreting a freshly passed state law or the impact of a zoning-board decision. The paper began a series in January called "County at the Crossroads," which explores the bright and dark sides of Spotsylvania's growth; one story described how a draft budget submitted to the board of supervisors could more than double real estate taxes. The Star has also disclosed inefficiencies in the nearby Stafford County treasurer's office and detailed the deceptive sales techniques a developer used to sell vacation lots.

In February the Star published its most ambitious project ever: a 64-page + special section on the Rappahannock River, the region's main waterway. The report combined featurish stories with an account of the river's problems, including pollution and soil erosion. Despite its small size, the Star has a full-time political reporter: John Goolrick, a 28-year veteran of the paper who covers the state legislature in Richmond and is considered one of Virginia's savviest political analysts. The Star "is not an overgrown weekly that only reports chicken dinners," says Charles Rowe. "We try to tell people what is going on, whether it is around the corner or around the world."

The Star's editorials sometimes ruffle its largely conservative audience; the paper, for example, opposes U.S. aid to the Nicaraguan contras and endorsed Walter Mondale in 1984. Last year, when the Star did not endorse John Chichester, a Fredericksburg resident who was the Republican candidate for Lieutenant Governor, dozens of readers complained. Nonetheless, the paper's independence wins respect even from those who may have reason to feel otherwise. Says Chichester, who lost his election: "The paper is extremely thorough and unbiased."

The Star has its limitations. The paper lacks a homegrown columnist with a distinctive voice, and its life-style section is tepid. The prose rarely dazzles, though Editorialist Edward Jones and Sports Editor Lee Woolf are lively writers. ("If you're looking for Ronald Reagan's policy of 'constructive engagement' with South Africa, check the floor of the Oval Office," wrote Jones last month. "It's lying there, ripped to shreds.")

Though the Rowes have received offers for the Star, they have no interest in selling. Someday they may have no choice: as much as the brothers would like to keep the paper in the family, none of their nine children have expressed a firm desire to take the helm. Until that day comes, Charles will keep sending his editors notes on yellow paper, suggesting stories or chiding them for spelling errors. Josiah will still roam the building, watching the presses roll and handing out paychecks every Tuesday. And the Star's reporters will keep coming in early, ready to tell the story of Fredericksburg and environs to its inhabitants. "At one time, every town had its own paper," says Larry Evans, 40, who has been at the Star for 15 years. "Working here makes you feel part of an American tradition."

With reporting by Naushad S. Mehta/Fredericksburg