The Press: The Sooner Scrouge

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One of eleven children, Troy, 40 (whose real first name is Forrest), grew up in the poor, populist-leaning "Little Dixie" section of southeastern Oklahoma. He dropped out of college to become a newsman. After 17 years of experience, including two stints as the Tulsa Tribune's Washington bureau chief, Troy quit in 1970 and bought the Observer from a priest, who had earlier taken it over from its founder, the Oklahoma City Roman Catholic diocese. Troy readily paid the asking price of $1 for the money-losing enterprise.

Alternative Voice. The short, wiry Troy runs the Observer from an old red brick bungalow in Oklahoma City, three blocks from the capitol. Though he prints a few articles from unpaid contributors, he fills most of the twelve-page paper himself. His wife (and co-publisher) Helen keeps the books and stuffs papers into mailing envelopes at their modest suburban home. He often warns subscribers to "worry about a newspaper when it earns enough for the publisher to join the country club." That is not something that Troy's readers need fear. The Observer lost $18,000 during his first year, finally edged $9,800 into the black in 1973. Troy makes no effort to solicit advertisers, and sometimes bites those few who feed him; two utility companies, among the paper's largest accounts, pulled out after Troy editorially championed a statutory limit on the industry's advertising. He supplements his income by lecturing to civic groups and his talks are part of his crusade for reform. "You want to make a difference," he tells audiences. "Otherwise you are just taking up space."

Troy describes himself as "hopelessly independent," and shuns political ideology in his columns. As an "alternative voice" in a conservative area, he is regularly on the liberal counterattack. But he is a believer in private enterprise, an occasional defender of President Nixon, both before and after Watergate, and a fan of Evangelist Oral Roberts. Troy scorns the "kept" press in his state. "It reacts to the jingle of the cash register," he charges. "I'd be out of business if the other papers were doing their job." Few of Troy's friends—and none of his enemies—think that the iconoclastic editor would acknowledge that situation, even if it ever came true.