Recently, I’ve sat through meetings in Wallowa County where I’ve heard people say variations of this phrase: “Nobody reads the Chieftain.”

I’m always tempted to raise my hand to set the record straight — but then I think, why would I want to make a public meeting last any longer than it already has?

This came up again last week, as some of the attendees at the county’s forum on the proposed Community Energy Strategic Plan lamented that they didn’t know much about the plan. The officials at the meeting noted, correctly, that the plan has been covered in the Chieftain.

Well, the response went, that may be, but nobody reads the Chieftain.

Let me raise my hand now to refute this claim as the malarkey that it is.

On a typical Wednesday, the Chieftain has a print run of about 1,400 copies. About 350 readers buy the Chieftain’s electronic edition.

The number of households in Wallowa County, according to the U.S. Census Bureau, is 3,269.

So the bottom line is that the Chieftain is in roughly 1 out of every 2 households in Wallowa County. After four decades working for newspapers, I can tell you that’s a remarkably robust number. The average household size in the county is 2.21 people, so you can do the math: It works out to thousands of people in the county reading the Chieftain.

But the print side of the equation isn’t the whole story. The Chieftain was just the second newspaper in Oregon to launch its own website, and our site (wallowa.com) has only grown since it was launched in 1996.

Over the past four weeks, the Chieftain’s online offerings have attracted more than 24,000 unique visitors and Chieftain stories have received more than 63,000 views in the same time period.

So maybe when people say “Nobody reads the Chieftain,” perhaps what they’re more accurately saying is, “I don’t read the Chieftain.” That’s OK; nobody is forcing anyone to read their community newspaper. (But if you want to sign up for a subscription, drop me a note, and I’ll be happy to connect you with our circulation department.)

It’s also possible that people are thinking in general terms about the state of the newspaper industry, and I’ll be honest: That could be better. In the past two decades, more than 2,000 newspapers in the United States have shut their doors — many of them in rural communities like Wallowa County. What often happens in those communities is that they become what’s known as “news deserts” — areas without any reliable source of news.

Research is starting to suggest what happens in news deserts: Turnout in state and local elections falls. Communities that have lost reporters see fewer candidates run for local office. As residents turn to national news outlets or increase their reliance on social media, political polarization rises. And the sense of community that a local paper can help engender is threatened.

I’ve always believed that there’s a strong, two-way connection between prosperous communities and prosperous newspapers. I think that’s still true. And in the year I’ve been working for the Chieftain, I’ve been impressed by the amount of community support it has. (Of course, readers aren’t shy about pointing out what we could be doing better — and I appreciate those comments, even if they come with a barb or two.)

I also think that newspapers haven’t done a good job of promoting themselves.

Which is part of the reason why I feel compelled now to raise my hand to dispel something I know isn’t true. After all, that’s part of what newspapers are supposed to do.

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