Dean Coombs is surrounded by letters and words. In fact, publishing the only linotype-set newspaper in the country is all in a day’s work for Coombs. The Saguache (pronounced “swatch”) Crescent office in the Colorado town of the same name is seven-days-a-week, home away from home for the 70-year-old. The linotype machine is as comfortable and familiar to him as a laptop is to most newspaper editors and publishers.
Coombs is the sole employee to perpetuate the age-old process. If he doesn’t set the weekly paper (originally called The Advance and then The Democrat) that his grandfather purchased in 1917, it doesn’t get set. But his commute is short; he lives next door to the newspaper office, which is right in the heart of the tiny town.
“It’s the only hot-metal newspaper left in the United States,” said Coombs, “and probably about anywhere.”
On a Friday in March, a relatively quiet day after the weekly paper has been distributed to its 300-plus subscribers, Coombs reflected on his family’s legacy and how the process of linotyping a newspaper is figuratively part of his DNA.
“It’s just what we’ve always done,” he said, “I wasn’t planning to go into the business at all. I had worked at the paper the whole time I was growing up. I wasn’t against the paper, I just wanted to do other things. I lived in Houston, Dallas, California … did odd jobs … went to college for two years. I didn’t really have a direction. I couldn’t get my head around anything. Really my main interest was to become a history professor.”
But Coombs’s father died suddenly in 1978, when Coombs was 27, and he returned home and stepped right into a role he was raised for.
The newspaper, Saguache Crescent, has as its current logo, or “flag,” a design that has been used since 1956. “The Crescent is very much representative of early 20th century history—the newspaper business as it started out in our country,” explained Coombs. “Even the newspaper building, built in late 1800s, is where it’s been since at least 1902. I’ve got a press in here that was made in 1898 and a proof press that was probably made during the Civil War.”
Saguache is a word the indigenous Great River Basin people used to mean “blue earth.” The closest big city is at least an hour away. Ranches, farms, and a small town comprise the community of around 500 people. The newspaper is well supported with very little hard news, but mostly community happenings, legal announcements, and obituaries.
“My mother always insisted that good news accompany the newspaper’s front page, and that is a tradition I’ve upheld,” he said. “Occasionally, there is a history-related article.” Coombs does not write the articles, but instead relies on contributions.
Coombs realizes he is understating the obvious when he tells visitors, “We’ve held onto the old way.” All anyone has to do is look around. A scan of the small space reveals metal equipment juxtaposed with wooden floor and wall shelving, all of which is replete with paper and office supplies. Coombs took quick stock: “There are three news presses and five job presses and three printing presses, plus three paper cutters, one of which was made in the 1800s and is decorated with painted on gold and red flowers and vines.”
It may all seem very complicated to the casual observer, but the linotype’s text lines are composed of what are also called “slugs,” which are rectangular solid pieces made of a type metal (an alloy of lead, antimony, and tin) and they are as long as the line or column selected. The letter forms of a particular font are engraved onto one side of what is referred to as a “matrix.”
Coombs has purchased old fonts, equipment, and parts from individuals all over the country. And, while a single font, Corona Bold 9 point, is used for his newspaper’s text, Coombs admitted to collecting at least 250 fonts for his own library. “[Corona Bold] is a very friendly font … a good font that is easy to read.”
When the text for an article or announcement is submitted by a contributor, Coombs enters the text onto the noisy machine’s 90-key keyboard, and with each keystroke, a matrix is released from what is called the “magazine” that is mounted above the keyboard. The matrix travels to the assembler section of the linotype machine and travels to be lined up to make the text that will be inked and printed. When a space is needed between words, Coombs touches the spaceband lever, which releases a spaceband—stored separately from the matrices because spacebands are too large to fit in the magazine.
When the lines are worn out, Coombs said they go into his “hell box” to be melted back down and then are put back into a casting machine.
Once all the type is set to make up an edition of the paper, Coombs “planes” the form to make sure that any lines sticking up are pushed down so that it is flat and prints well. “A line sticking up might make other lines not take any ink,” he noted. Coombs prints on 30 by 22 inch paper on a 1915 electric two-revolution cylinder printer. “News ink absorbs quickly and doesn’t smear—unless you run your finger over it and purposely try to smudge it.” He then folds the paper down to four pages.
The newspaper comes out on Wednesdays and generally Coombs will print enough for subscribers (an annual subscription is under $20) and then a few extras for distribution to a local gas station, the town’s welcome center, a grocery store, and a few restaurants. “I keep a few here for people who stop by who want one, and I always save a copy each week,” he said.
“The joke is that I’m the editor, publisher, typesetter, and janitor—and if I’m the janitor, I should be fired. The thing you throw away is the thing you need.” Coombs is able to get the paper out and that’s all that matters.
How much longer will the septuagenarian continue to set and print the small-town paper? “The paper will come out probably next week and the week after that. It could be 20 more years or two more years.”
There is a possibility the newspaper office and its contents could eventually become a local museum, since Coombs has no next generation to pass the newspaper to, and he has not and does not plan to train someone. But if the right person came along who wanted to continue the messy, labor-intensive work—just to make sure that history endures—he admits he might consider it. For now, he’s just happy to continue doing what he’s been doing his whole life. And he’s glad he can provide a service that people locally look forward to and appreciate. Another reward is perpetuating history.
“I think I’m as amazed about the way the newspaper is done—the way they were all done at one time—as most people,” said Coombs. “If you were in the newspaper industry in the 1970s, you might have experienced linotype, but after that, not many papers in the U.S. were doing linotype. The work I do is living history … a true tradition. People like to drop in to see it being done and I talk to people about it all the time. Everyone is fascinated. I’m still fascinated.”
The downside of Coombs’s lifelong profession, and his commitment to preserving the linotype method of newspaper printing, is that he has not been out of Saguache in 27 years. “It’s not a fairytale life,” he shared. “But I enjoy it because it’s part of me and I have an emotional attachment to it.”
