Hi Neighbor,
Thursday was our birthday, Staten Island! The Advance is 139 years old!
It was March 27, 1886 when a printer named John Crawford and a businessman, James Kennedy, sealed the deal, deciding Staten Island needed another newspaper. Kennedy was the editor and Crawford the publisher. (Despite speculation from some of our neighbors, Kennedy did not beat me out in getting the editor job.)
They called it the Richmond County Advance and it published once a week, on Saturday mornings.
The print shop staff poses in front of the original Advance building at 72 Broadway, West Brighton. Publisher John J. Crawford is seated in front.Staff-Shot
Incredibly, there were already eight papers competing against each other on our little island – with only 30,000 people living here. The 1880 census had the number at 29,683.
It didn’t take long for the Advance masthead to read, “Our circulation exceeds every newspaper on Staten Island combined.”
How Staten Island has changed. How the news business has changed.
Who would’ve envisioned where we are today when I got in the business in 1972? Who would’ve thought we’d reach in our pocket, pull out a phone to check SILive.com for the latest news? Who would’ve believed the Advance/SILive.com would send a text on a breaking news story, literally within minutes, with details in real time? Heck, who would’ve thought we’d be even pulling a phone from our pocket, despite Dick Tracey’s 1940’s two-way wrist radio? Crawford and Kennedy must be spinning.
The Advance had several homes since that morning of March 27, 1886; the first on Broadway in New Brighton, the second on Castleton Avenue near Clove Road in West Brighton, the third at 950 Fingerboard Road in Grasmere.
The Fingerboard Road building was a 1960 Mid-Century Modern with large windows framed by cinnamon-colored brick, surrounded by stunning landscaping. Rarely did a spring or summer Saturday go by without a bride and groom standing among the flowers – hundreds of tulips were our trademark -- a photographer capturing the moment for a wedding album.
Two grandsons of Samuel I. Newhouse pushed the buttons to start the press in the new Staten Island Advance building in Grasmere in November 1960. From left are S.I. Newhouse 3rd, son of S.I. Newhouse Jr., Steven Newhouse, son of Donald Newhouse, and their grandfather, S.I. Newhouse.Staten Island Advance
Its spanking new printing press was state-of-the art in the industry. It even printed color, a rarity in 1960. Well, the press guys tried their hand at color. The first Sunday Advance was printed on March 7, 1965. Before then, we published six days a week. I remember getting our paper delivered one Sunday morning with a large photo of Lyndon Johnson on Page One. His face was green.
So many talented journalists learned their craft in that building, from writing a meeting notice for the local Masonic or Knights of Columbus club, to writing an obituary, determining if the deceased earned the coveted title, “Native Staten Islander,” to covering political or crime stories.
Advance publisher Richard E. Diamond got behind the wheel of the Advance's vintage 1912 delivery truck at the Advance's Women of Achievement luncheon in 1985. Commissioner of Motor Vehicles Patricia Adduci, guest speaker for the luncheon, and Advance editor Les Trautmann joined him.Staten Island Advance
It was in that building where I learned from our publisher Richard Diamond that the most difficult decision is really the easiest – just do the right thing.
It was there that I learned the importance of community.
The Advance building on Fingerboard Road no longer exists. With a smaller workforce, and a printing operation consolidated with other Advance publications, 950 Fingerboard Road outgrew us. New owners opted to demolish the building in the hopes of building two schools.
My friend, frequent emailer and former colleague, Grasmere Steve, watched as the building, and so many memories, were leveled. With that came some thoughts.
“The Advance on Fingerboard Road was more than a news-gathering hub and printing plant,” my Grasmere buddy opined. “It was a social foundation for many. It employed 500 neighbors, Islanders and others, creating a sense of ‘community’ long before Facebook, LinkedIn and the like.
“Neighbors brought wedding pictures . . . Bereaved came to talk with a reporter about a deceased loved one, sharing pictures and information for the obituary. And if you had something to sell -- pre-eBay and pre-Craigs List -- you showed up to give details to an Advance “AD-visor” to place a classified ad.”
For the longest time, the doors to 950 Fingerboard were open. Twenty-four hours. Seven days. We never locked them. There were no lobby cameras. No buzz-in system. News and sports reporters worked around the clock, and tipsters, politicians and coaches roamed in and out, no matter the hour.
The overnight Sports Department was probably the busiest. Coaches flocked in to drop off box scores, and stayed for hours shooting the breeze about anything and everything involving youth or sandlot sports.
It was at 950 Fingerboard where devastated families came the night of September 11, 2001, and for days after, begging us to publish photos of their loved ones they prayed were just roaming the streets of the city, dazed. Hoping someone would recognize them.
After a week or two, they came again, asking we publish an obituary, still hoping, but really knowing their loved one was lost.
And we did.
It was at 950 Fingerboard where the Staten Island Children’s Campaign was started, a non-profit that raised more than a million dollars for Staten Island needy kids. Where a not-profit September 11 fund was founded, raising millions of dollars for families in pain. Where a non-profit Hurricane Sandy fund was created, raising hundreds of thousands of dollars for families who lost everything.
It was at 950 Fingerboard where Publisher Diamond came up with the idea to sponsor a Women of Achievement program, saluting Staten Islanders who go above and beyond the call of duty in volunteer efforts – a program that still thrives 63 years later.
Aftermath of a deadly accident on the Staten Island Ferry while it was docking. (Photo by Aristide Economopoulos/THE STAR-LEDGER)SL
The Andrew J. Barberi had two holes punched in its hull. (Staten Island Advance/Anthony DePrimo)Staten Island Advance
It was at 950 Fingerboard where stories were written about the LNG tank explosions. The tragic Barberi ferryboat crash. Massive blackouts. Hurricanes. Blizzards. The planning, construction and opening of the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge. Where Mid-Island Little Leaguers were celebrated for winning the Little League World Series. Where every aspect of the secession movement was analyzed. Where the last garbage barge entering the Fresh Kills landfill was documented. Where the horrors of Willowbrook State School were exposed.
From where a spotlight was directed time and again at proposals that would benefit the community. Proposals that would harm the community.
“But times change,” Grasmere Steve tells me. “Neighborhoods change. ‘Sense of community’ has been totally redefined, as the Internet has defined that as global and based not on geographical proximity, but shared communities of interest that can cross national borders.”
I guess. I do miss those days. I do miss Fingerboard Road. But as special as it was, the cinnamon-colored brick and mortar building did not define our mission.
Our mission is what it was when Crawford and Kennedy pulled the switch on the press for the first time 139 years ago in that little shop on Broadway: To strengthen and empower the community we serve.
Our new digs on South Avenue serve us well as we continue that mission. It’s not the office that strengthens and empowers Staten Island.
It’s the journalists with a passion to do the right thing.
Happy Birthday, Advance!
Brian
Oh by the way: I’d like to feel bad for the United States Postal Service and our letter carriers. They’ve been saddled with that “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night” thing for about a hundred years. But I don’t. In November, I mailed an 8X10 manilla envelope from our South Avenue office (10314) to a friend at Bay Street Landing in St. George (10301.) It was returned to me on South Avenue last week. Four months later. A sticker said the Bay Street Landing address was “insufficient.” With all due respect, Postal Service – the address was exact. President Trump and First Buddy Elon are talking about privatizing the agency. Maybe they’re on to something. Although at the rate the president tweets, I doubt he knows where the nearest mailbox is, let alone the price of a stamp.