Those who believe journalism offers a glamorous lifestyle should examine Ann Hermes’ photograph of Tom Haley during a cold winter day at his Vermont workplace.
The image shows Haley writing in a notebook while reclining in his office chair, wearing loose-fitting khakis and a baseball cap. His left foot props up on the only clear space of a desk otherwise buried under stacks of notebooks, newspapers, printed documents and a lanyard dangling from a stray photo. A crooked calendar decorates the wall behind him, while worn blue carpeting covers the floor.
Hermes specializes in capturing subjects that represent bygone eras or face extinction. Her previous work includes documenting North America’s final operating Morse code station and old-fashioned department store photo studios. Recently, she’s focused her lens on newsrooms similar to Haley’s workplace at the Rutland Herald.
The Brooklyn photographer has documented approximately 50 newsrooms throughout America, primarily in smaller communities, creating a visual record of spaces and careers threatened by decades of industry decline. One newspaper she photographed in Alameda, California, has already ceased operations.
Her project continues to expand.
Despite her own newsroom experience as a former Christian Science Monitor employee, Hermes never expected this work to become such an intensive personal mission.
“I love these spaces,” she says. “I love spending time with these people. The more time I spent in newsrooms and hearing about their difficulties of life, it took on a different agenda. I couldn’t have spent so much of my free time on this if I didn’t enjoy it.”
Her photographs challenge stereotypes about journalism as an elite, prestigious profession, particularly at the community level. The images reveal dedicated workers in modest environments that would horrify interior designers. Sticky notes cling to computer screens. Writing supplies, notebooks, and paper boxes clutter bookshelves alongside half-finished whiskey bottles. Carpet stains remain unaddressed. Antacid containers rest atop microwaves.
One empty metal filing system sits beneath a sign reading “stories to be written,” evidence of an abandoned organizational effort.
New Yorker writer Zach Helfand observes: “News people tend to pay their surroundings little mind. There’s too much to do and always a deadline looming. What you see hanging around these rooms isn’t designed but improvised, and more revealing.”
Newsrooms aren’t the only endangered elements Hermes captures. Physical newspapers, increasingly rare as publications abandon printing for digital formats, appear throughout her images. They overflow from storage spaces, yellow with age, pile up in delivery vehicles, and stack in precarious towers requiring careful navigation.
Additional newspapers fill archival storage areas, or “morgues,” a term gaining unfortunate relevance. These cardboard files contain clipped articles that once served research purposes before digital databases emerged.
These archives preserve community history, however. Their disappearance means losing countless local memories.
“This is really a love letter to local journalism,” Hermes says. “It’s not a ‘gotcha’ piece.”
She admires the “true believers” who remain committed to their profession despite facing criticism from public officials who resist scrutiny and economic pressures that have forced colleagues into other careers.
“The rewards are diminishing in doing this job,” she says. “You have to really believe in the fundamental civic service that you are providing. Otherwise, why else would you do it? It’s a really difficult job.”
Hermes displays her work online and hopes to compile her newsroom photography into a published collection. She believes her role has evolved beyond documentation into advocacy, planning exhibitions in communities she’s visited to emphasize local journalism’s importance.
Her target involves photographing 100 newsrooms total: “I feel like I learn something new in every newsroom I visit.”
