The San Diego Reader, which ended its 52-year print run earlier this year, is once again making headlines - this time for all the wrong reasons. On October 31, the publication posted an social media appeal titled “READER SOS (Save Our Site),” seeking “voluntary donations” to help “maintain operations.” The message, however, drew scrutiny not for its plea, but for its tone and imagery.
The post featured a modified version of Homer’s haunting 1899 painting The Gulf Stream, a powerful and unsettling depiction of a Black man adrift in a dismasted boat, surrounded by sharks and waves - long interpreted as an allegory of racial struggle and survival in post-Civil War America. In the context of The Reader’s post, the image was repurposed to symbolize the publication’s own financial distress, with the caption calling for support to “keep providing its services to San Diego.”
For some, the choice was jarring. The painting’s themes of enslavement, abandonment, and existential peril bear no resemblance to a newspaper’s funding woes - and its appropriation by a publication founded and long operated by white men underscored a perceived lack of cultural awareness. The painting is a centuries-old reflection on the Black experience in a hostile world - a work laden with historical pain and defiance, not a backdrop for a donation drive.
Even setting aside the optics of repurposing a painting about racial endurance to represent the plight of an alt-weekly, The Reader’s request for “voluntary donations” struck some as uncomfortably self-serving. The publication openly admits it is not a nonprofit - meaning contributions are neither charitable nor tax-deductible - yet the appeal is framed with the same sentimental urgency typically reserved for institutions serving the public good. In essence, The Reader isn’t soliciting support for journalism as a civic cause; it’s asking for financial handouts to sustain a privately owned business that has long benefited from San Diego’s free press landscape.
The irony runs deep. For decades, The Reader has positioned itself as the scrappy conscience of San Diego - a publication that prided itself on independence and skepticism toward establishment narratives. But its current messaging feels out of step with both its legacy and the media moment it occupies. The post’s imagery evokes desperation without awareness; its plea for money feels divorced from the publication’s own privileged position in the city’s journalistic ecosystem.
More broadly, The Reader’s appeal underscores a larger crisis of identity facing many alt-weeklies in the digital age. Having shuttered its print edition earlier this year after more than half a century in circulation, the paper now exists online only - a stark adjustment for a publication once thick with classifieds, satire, and the kind of long-form storytelling that defined pre-digital journalism. Yet rather than reimagining itself for a new era, The Reader appears trapped between nostalgia and survivalism, asking its audience to bankroll a model that may no longer resonate.
The irony runs deep. For decades, The Reader has positioned itself as the scrappy conscience of San Diego - a publication that prided itself on independence and skepticism toward establishment narratives. But its current messaging feels out of step with both its legacy and the media moment it occupies. The post’s imagery evokes desperation without awareness; its plea for money feels divorced from the publication’s own privileged position in the city’s journalistic ecosystem.
More broadly, The Reader’s appeal underscores a larger crisis of identity facing many alt-weeklies in the digital age. Having shuttered its print edition earlier this year after more than half a century in circulation, the paper now exists online only - a stark adjustment for a publication once thick with classifieds, satire, and the kind of long-form storytelling that defined pre-digital journalism. Yet rather than reimagining itself for a new era, The Reader appears trapped between nostalgia and survivalism, asking its audience to bankroll a model that may no longer resonate.
Founded in 1972 by Jim Holman, a Navy veteran and devout Catholic who previously worked for the Chicago Reader, The San Diego Reader became one of the nation’s most successful alternative weeklies. Holman’s reputation, however, was far from conventional. He was a major funder of anti-abortion initiatives across California, personally spending millions to back parental notification laws, and operated a chain of Catholic newspapers alongside the Reader. His editorial policies historically reflected his conservative ideology - refusing to publish ads for abortion services and, for years, banning personal ads from gay readers.
In 2006, Voice of San Diego reported that Holman had even donated to a Green Party U.S. Senate candidate, apparently as a strategic move to siphon votes from Democrats in favor of Republican candidates. Politics, as one reporter wrote, “makes strange bedfellows.”
After decades in print, Holman sold The Reader in early 2025 to longtime editor and writer Matt Lickona - a fellow Catholic author who reportedly purchased the paper for one dollar. Shortly thereafter, the publication printed its final issue and moved fully online, citing rising costs and changing media habits.
There’s no doubt that The San Diego Reader has played a meaningful role in the city’s cultural and journalistic history. For decades, it offered one of the few platforms for local investigative reporting, dissenting voices, and community expression. But in 2025, its public image - a battered ship adrift and begging for rescue - feels more symbolic than intended.
If the publication truly hopes to stay afloat, it may need to do more than ask readers to throw it a line. It may need to reconsider who it represents, how it tells its stories, and why an image like The Gulf Stream - meant to capture resilience in the face of systemic oppression - should never again be mistaken for a metaphor about a struggling newspaper.
Originally published on November 4, 2025.
In 2006, Voice of San Diego reported that Holman had even donated to a Green Party U.S. Senate candidate, apparently as a strategic move to siphon votes from Democrats in favor of Republican candidates. Politics, as one reporter wrote, “makes strange bedfellows.”
After decades in print, Holman sold The Reader in early 2025 to longtime editor and writer Matt Lickona - a fellow Catholic author who reportedly purchased the paper for one dollar. Shortly thereafter, the publication printed its final issue and moved fully online, citing rising costs and changing media habits.
There’s no doubt that The San Diego Reader has played a meaningful role in the city’s cultural and journalistic history. For decades, it offered one of the few platforms for local investigative reporting, dissenting voices, and community expression. But in 2025, its public image - a battered ship adrift and begging for rescue - feels more symbolic than intended.
If the publication truly hopes to stay afloat, it may need to do more than ask readers to throw it a line. It may need to reconsider who it represents, how it tells its stories, and why an image like The Gulf Stream - meant to capture resilience in the face of systemic oppression - should never again be mistaken for a metaphor about a struggling newspaper.
Originally published on November 4, 2025.
