Correcting Episode 2: Above The Fold

My memory of my father’s death is inextricably linked to a call I received from an old friend—who told me that his suicide was featured on the front page of The Philadelphia Inquirer—and the images this news conjured in my mind: my father’s face, name, and sins enumerated “above the fold.” 

The expression “above the fold” refers to the physical position of an article or image printed in a newspaper or webpage. In the case of a broadsheet newspaper, the term refers to the portion of the front page that is visible when the paper is folded; on a webpage, it refers to the content that can be seen without scrolling. The physical positioning of a text or image is a visual cue that indicates significance, and what falls “above the fold” is information of the utmost importance. 

At the time of my father’s death (May 13, 2009), I was living in Denver. I read the news online but never saw it in print. So when I undertook this research project (March 2022), it felt important to find a physical copy of the front page and “see” the news with my own eyes. 

I first turned to the database Newspapers.com (which I have used to source many of the visuals in this project), and I was surprised to discover the site had no record of my father’s death. The cataloged images from that day are drawn from the South Jersey Edition, and there is no mention of my father or his crimes. 

I began to doubt my memory of the event.

Then in April 2022,  a Brown University librarian pulled the full-text article with a detailed citation from the database Newsbank, which indicated that the story had, indeed, appeared on page A-1. This gave me some assurance, and I continued my research and writing. 

Months passed. I started building the website and mapping the story I wanted to tell. After several revisions, I tentatively entitled the second episode of this project “Above The Fold.” Still, the concept hinged on the placement of an article I had never seen, traumatic memories, and contradictory sources.  

Throughout my research, I have conferred with journalist Martha Woodall, who first broke the story, reported on it for over a year, and co-authored the article in question. I showed her the full text and citation, and she agreed that my father’s suicide must have appeared on the front page—though she did not recall whether it appeared above or below the fold—and she suggested I contact the library at Temple University, which houses The Philadelphia Inquirer’s archive.

It was less than two weeks from my intended publication date when I reached out to a Temple research librarian who informed me that the collection does not contain the complete physical archive but, rather, an assortment of clippings, filed in envelopes according to topics like architecture, politics, and education. This did not sound promising, but I submitted a formal request and awaited a reply. A week later, the librarian came back empty-handed and directed me to the Free Library of Philadelphia. 

I had been investigating my father’s case for eight months when I submitted a research request to the Free Library of Philadelphia.

I was still awaiting a response when I published “Above The Fold” on November 11, 2022. 

The next morning  I received an email from the Free Library of Philadelphia’s Newspaper & Microfilm Center. Attached were PDF files with full-page images from The Philadelphia Inquirer and The Philadelphia Daily News published on May 14, 2009. 

In the micro-fiche copy, my father’s face appears in a black, smudged square on the front page, just below the fold.

The words “above” and “below” are relative; they deal with positionality, power, and significance. There were, of course, bigger stories that day—stories of drought, war, displacement—and a million other tragedies and miracles that will never be told. In the scope of the world, my father’s suicide—and his crimes—were just a blip in a local news cycle, but for me, there was only one story that day, and I’ve been trying to come to terms with it ever since.

Someday, I will rewrite the piece with a new title. For now, I will let it stand with this correction. 

As above, so below.