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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Doug Clark Well, so long Sidekick, we hardly knew ye

Doug Clark The Spokesman-Review

Ciao. Adieu. Sayonara. Arrivederci. Hasta la vista.

Vaya con carne …

There are so many ways to say farewell.

But in announcing this month’s folding of the Spokane Sidekick, the two college buddies running the short-lived arts and entertainment guide delivered an adios for the ages:

“This isn’t working … (Bleep) off.”

Fortunately, Andy Rowse and Brian Clark (no kinship) made the following announcement on their Web site and not in newsprint.

(Go to www.spokanesidekick.com for full impact.)

But despite the funny finale, it’s a shame, although certainly not a shock, to see the Sidekick sink into the abyss.

The biweekly publication added a hip and irreverent voice to the community.

It also did a credible job of covering the music scene despite misspelling the last name of a certain local guitar hero. (Joe Brass?)

But like so many Spokane publications that have come and gone over the years, the Sidekick was done in by pressure.

Economic pressure. Circulation pressure. Deadline pressure …

Pressure. Pressure. Pressure …

“It kind of hurts my head to think about it,” said Rowse.

Romantic notions abound about being a publisher. Being a publisher gives you a VOICE. And no matter how small-time you may be, you are still in the same league with the giants of the industry:

Thomas Paine, William Randolph Hearst, Larry Flynt …

But here’s a reality about print journalism that Clark, 24, and Rowse, 23, had to learn the hard way:

The smaller the publication, the bigger the ulcers.

“We were in over our heads from the beginning,” the two wrote in their Web site swan song. “Two dudes trying to run a newspaper out of our basement – including the editorial, graphic, business, distribution, management, layout and all the other facets of the paper – meant that we were both working like a one-armed man hanging wallpaper simply to get the paper out.”

You didn’t need an MBA to predict that this dream was doomed from the get-go.

Rowse said he began the Sidekick a little over a year ago with a close friend, Michelle Pierce, and a $3,000 grubstake. The amount, in start-up terms, was laughable.

Pierce was involved for six or seven issues, Rowse said. Then along came Clark, Rowse’s pal from Montana State University. Though film production majors, the two lads got the journalism bug via working on the Bozeman-based school’s student newspaper and from jobs on the town’s arts and entertainment guide.

They made a great team, working 60-plus hours a week, including caffeine soaked all-nighters as the press deadline loomed.

Clark contributed much of the editorial content, including writing a witty fake horoscope called “Straight outta my Asstrology.”

Sample for Aries: “Your attempt to secure a license to legally smoke marijuana is thwarted when, according to the government, your stubbed toe does not constitute a chronic disease.”

Every publication eventually finds a niche. In this regard the Sidekick can rightfully boast an absolute stone-cold lock on readers who own dead-and-stuffed rodents.

Last March, some anonymous loon mailed a shoebox to the Sidekick. Inside was a mangy preserved squirrel with fake cartoon eyes. The squirrel was wrapped in the latest issue. An accompanying note criticized the staff for spending too much time on events and music while ignoring – you guessed it – squirrels.

It was a proud moment for Rowse and Clark.

Take my word for it. You’re never a real journalist until the nuts start paying attention.

(I’m betting nobody ever bothered sending any stuffed critters to the Inlander.)

Rowse and Clark named the scruffy squirrel Nunchuck. They made it the Sidekick’s official mascot.

On Wednesday, following our lunch interview, Rowse handed me the shoebox.

“Will you put him on your desk?” he asked. “Nunchuck needs to stay in a newsroom.”

Will I? As I write these words, Nunchuck is hanging from the partition that separates my desk from a co-worker’s. I have positioned Nunchuck so that he will be staring directly at reporter Kevin Graman when he returns from vacation.

Wars have been started over less.

So long, Sidekick.