'IT'S OBAMA': Pages of history that you can hold
Four days in and the pundits are already critiquing Barack Obama's Cabinet choices and are ready to pounce on how he will handle the economic crisis. I've heard grumbling from campaign-weary voters that it's time to get past this "first black president thing" so our lives can get back to normal
But it was a different story in downtown Los Angeles on Friday as crowds jammed The Times' lobby and lined up around the block to buy copies of Wednesday's newspaper and replicas of the front page, with its photo of the new first family and "IT'S OBAMA" headline.
For three 12-hour days, our lobby has been jammed, and sales will go on through this weekend. "We get a new batch, and a half-hour later they're gone," circulation chief Jack Klunder told me. "But we'll just keep printing."
It caught us in the newsroom by surprise. More than 350,000 extra copies have been sold. "It's bigger than anything I've ever seen," Klunder said, as we watched, amazed at the line that just kept growing.
For years, we've been hearing that print is dying and we've been pouring energy into online features aimed at extending our reach.
But you can't flip the pages of a cyber Times or post a framed blog on your living room wall.
"I want a piece of history, in black and white, to hold in my hands," Connie Jackson told me as I moved through the line Friday, talking with readers about why they had come.
She bought eight copies of the paper and three replica plates Thursday, then came back Friday for more. She plans to frame a front page and mount it on her wall, and send copies to friends in other cities "who want something to remember this moment."
"For me, it's a tangible way of holding on to what's happened," she said. "A connection to something I want to always remember."
I spoke with a dozen people and they all had similar reasons: They'll frame the printing plates, mail the papers to friends, give the glossy front pages as Christmas gifts and pass them down to their grandchildren.
"I'm getting everything you've got, as many as I can buy," said Adrienne Foster, a college administrator who lives near downtown in Lafayette Square. "So everybody I know can be a part of this."
In line behind us, Margaret Kean was listening. I could tell she wanted a chance to talk. She's white, and has two adult biracial sons whose father is black. She grew up in the 1960s in Detroit -- "a mile from the riots" -- and moved here with her sons "so they could avoid trouble.
