Newspapers aren’t like any other private business.

People feel an ownership of their community newspaper. It may be the rag they love to hate, but they still see it as “their” rag.

The newsroom and its reporters also serve as a sort of Town Hall, a place where people feel comfortable calling up or strolling in and saying what’s on their minds — be it thoughtful insights or hallucinogenic babble.

Many are amusing, some kinda scary.

People often turn to the newspaper as a kind of central bank of knowledge.

One morning a man called and, without preamble, asked: “What’s the difference between a crocodile and an alligator?” “I think the croc has a pointed snout and the gator’s is rounded,” I said. “Thanks.” And he hung up.

A homeless man, years ago, really took to heart the idea of the newspaper being a community asset. We discovered he’d set up house in the newspaper’s labyrinth basement. He’d sneak in through the press room late at night and leave in early morning. He had a nice bedroom — sleeping bag, quilts, pillow and a few belongings — laid out behind some giant rolls of newsprint.

Then there are the voice-mails under the category I call, Another Satisfied Customer:

A caller last year left us a voice message saying he had canceled his subscription to our “(bleeping) piece of crap, sorry excuse for a newspaper” and would be happy if he never heard The Free Press name uttered again.

So, he was spitting mad when, through our mistake, we continued delivering the paper to him — for free. His colorful message of what we could do with our newspaper would make a drunken sailor blush.

Another caller left a message about their newspaper delivery. Not that the delivery was poor, but that the paperboy cut across the man’s lawn early every morning. He started his message reasonably and quietly but worked himself into a sort of frenzy as he screamed that we needed to tell the carrier to STAY ON THE DAMN SIDEWALK.

From a very disturbed, albeit passionate sports fan comes this one:

Sports writer Shane Frederick this year wrote an analytical column about the Vikings’ backup-quarterback situation. A voice-mail he got the next morning began calmly: “Shane Frederick, I read with interest your column on backup quarterbacks.” OK, good start. He then shouted: “And I think you’re a (blanking) IDIOT.” The caller went on to question Shane’s mental capabilities, his sexuality, and threw in some shots about his mother, before telling him he should “blow your (blanking) head off,” and hung up.

Reporters are often accused of failing to uncover some perceived government wrongdoing, sometimes even international terrorism.

A few years ago, a reporter was covering a visit by an astronaut in New Ulm and was approached by an agitated man clasping a handful of hand-written documents. He laid out an unintelligible conspiracy theory by the government, including something about a nuclear accident cover-up in Comfrey. He then accused the reporter of being responsible for the suicide bombing attack of the USS Cole.

One of the best conspiracy theory calls came just recently to reporter Robb Murray from a man in Saskatchewan, Canada, who had a distinguished sort of accent. In a long rambling message he wonders why we continue to cover up the fact that Hillary Clinton is a man, posing as woman.

And, he told of the time in 1955, when Canadian constables — including Rupert Murdoch and Patrick Buchanan — arrested George W. and Barbara Bush.

But wait, there’s more. Also arrested was cult leader Jim Jones of poison Kool-Aid fame, who was being driven around by the singer Bono.

Oh, and Jim Jones’ son, as it turns out, is .... Al Gore.

See, it all ties together. And we in the media have been ignoring it.

(You need to hear the voice-mail to fully appreciate it. I’ll post a link so you can listen to the tape on our Web site www.MankatoFreePress.com)



Tim Krohn is a Free Press staff writer. He can be contacted at 344-6383 or tkrohn@mankatofreepress.com