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Publication Date: February 19th, 2026
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In a town where a side of artisanal toast costs more than a monthly subscription to the New York Times, people often ask if they can pay us for Hudson Common Sense. Some have offered checks. Two particularly enlightened souls even bought us a round at a local watering hole. We are flattered, but the answer remains a firm "no." Also because deep down we know that they want us to take the blowback for saying out loud what many think.
We donât want your money, we only want the opportunity to challenge your thinking, and enlist you to join us in our journey to try and understand how the City of of Hudson works, or doesnât, for now. As we outline in our mission, we want to enlist your agreement and your disagreement to think radically about how to improve this city faster. Like *The Economist,* we believe in progress through rigorous, non-partisan, and data-driven debate. Our goal is to broaden the Overton window and drive awareness of values that make Hudson more efficient and fair for every citizen. While HCS is clearly and exclusively editorial, we are upfront about our perspective. Even when our pieces are highly opinionated, we stick to the facts and always reference original primary sources. We invite our detractors to disagree with Guest Op-Eds (and you can do so by following these instructions).
To understand why we stay free, letâs first consider the local "info-tainment" market in its fragmented, dysfunctional, hilarious, mostly free, and wonderfully rich imperfect totality.
If we have any bias, it is that we cannot provide editorials or host guest op-eds if there is no news reporting to anchor them. Accurate and well cited news is like public roads and sidewalks of media. This is our fundamental conflict of interest and our bias: we genuinely like Gossips of Rivertown and discovered it and entered this arena to understand this crazy town, but Hudson Common Sense also requires it. Editorial pages and "Op-Eds" (literally opposite the editorial pages) require a news section to exist first.
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Compounding Hudsonâs information gap is an archaic, state-mandated subsidy that tethers the city to a dying medium. Under NY Public Officers Law § 70-a and General Construction Law § 60, municipalities are still required to designate a physical "newspaper of record." To qualify, a publication must be a physical broadsheet established for at least one year: a definition that effectively outlaws digital-only transparency.
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The Local Aggregators: Then there is IMBY, a sort of HuffPo of the Hudson Valley. They accept nearly all editorial submissions, which is both their strength and their weakness, and a testament to their local journalism bona fides. But a club that admits everyone is not a club, and it lacks a unified experience. A reader looking for a poignant reflection on dogs and aging is rarely in the same headspace, at the same time, as someone seeking a detailed screening of local politics.
The Rising Contenders: Farther afield, Rural Intelligence is stepping it up with real news stories and the occasional scoop. We view this as a promising development, though it is still too early to call. Meanwhile, Rhinebeck and Red Hookâs **Daily Catch** remains a hyperlocal and informative delight, our Southern Cross. They invest heavily in photography and "Instagram carousels" that break stories and events into digestible nuggets. If only Gossips had a photography contributor as dogged and consistent as the Daily Catch, the transformation of local media would be complete. Maybe that is Lance Wheeler and his helpful archive of videos?
The Affirmation Substacks: Then there are the various area Substacks. These are political in their choice of topic and subjective in their lens. They are regrettably not very data-driven and mostly affirmation-seeking, dressing up nativist grievances as âstorytellingâ and âoral history.â Weâd rather not âmake space,â nay âhold space,â and instead invest in SpaceX than subscribe to melancholy fetishism.
The Talented Volunteers: We should also give an honorable mention to Mark Allen. He tackles critical public infrastructure topics via video, free of charge. Heâs a massive talent and a rare objective moderator at real-world events, as evidenced by his work on the Peter Spear/Future Hudson "Neighbors" series and the recent Bard College Town Hall. See our reportage from the room where is blew up: Galvan Sinned, Bard Pays.
The Aesthetic and Maternal: Then there is the always caring Soft Spot. It is a professionally executed series of guest essays edited by 3 local and thoughtful moms, decidedly "left-coded" in their sensibilities. Certainly not an Affirmation Substack. It captures the aspirational, slow-living essence of the Valley⌠having it all, or discussing the nuances of why Lean In failed and why Anne-Marie Slaughter was right all along⌠if only she had the help of her âvillageâ⌠In their words:
If The Soft Spot had a bingo card, youâd be a sure winner if you had the following: Annieâs mac-and-cheese, potty training, breastfeeding wins, mothering as a political act, breastfeeding woes, universal childcare advocacy, children's books worth reading a dozen times, composting, parent-owned small businesses, the neuroscience behind âmom brainâ, a robust events list, and beans.
While The Soft Spot provides a vital service for those seeking the softer side of Hudson, our editors are still waiting for a male-centric, âright-codedâ counterweight, possibly a parody, letâs call it The Hard Spot. We imagine a platform that tackles the grit of child-rearing from a traditional male perspective, perhaps throwing in equally wild political snuck-premises and POVs while being rabidly pro-Boy Scout and a patriotic vision of a natalist, though not nativist, America. Until then, the local discourse remains somewhat "unburdened by what has been," leaning heavily into the aesthetic of inclusive pastoral bliss. In the end our editors remain grateful for The Soft Spot, what they do for families up and down the Hudson. Carry on, ladies.
The Polished On-Ramp: Another honorable mention goes to to Mat Zucker, host of the award-winning Cidiot podcast. Mat is the NPR of our local airwaves: as polished in production as he is polite in person. In an ecosystem that can often feel like a contact sport, Mat wisely stays above the political fray, offering what is essentially the "pre-orientation" for Hudsonâs newest arrivals. Whether itâs decoding the mysteries of firewood delivery or his charming deep-dive into the story behind Carole and Gossips, Mat provides the perfect, low-stress bridge for those on their Amtrak commute, drive to your local Farmerâs Market, CSA, or weekend drive. Heâs the friendly face (and voice) at the coffeeshop, helping people move from "city idiot" to informed neighbor without the bruises.
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Dishonorable Mention: WGXC Afternoon Show
Our Editors could not not mention former Common Council President Thomas de Pietroâs on again off again public radio show, previously recorded live from The Spark of Hudson. Not all that popular, and notorious for settling political scores, the podcast has also been used to insist that âHudson liberalsâ views serve white supremacy,â amongst other bizarre takes. Read the full rundown here.
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On the lighter side, we have The Hudson Wail. It is a brilliant parody account, widely popular across all counties surrounding the Hudson Valley, that captures our local absurdities perfectly. The identity of the author(s) is perhaps Hudsonâs best kept secret⌠that and whoever was responsible for the unsolved Oakdale murder just a few decades ago. The Wail launched genuinely great swag with limited drops. It has quickly become the de facto "insider" nod, appealing to insiders, outsiders, the Davos man in town and the 10th generation members of the Power Boat Club. If New Yorkers say you are only a New Yorker after a decade (the 10-Year Rule), then may we suggest you are only a Hudsonian if you get most Hudson Wail memes?



Buy yours now on The Hudson Wailâs efficiently setup Shopify account: https://thehudsonwail.myshopify.com/collections/all
Elite universities often sell apparel for Chinese tourists at marked-up prices, while admitted students and faculty get access to authentic gear. Similarly, if you see someone sporting a Wail cap or tee around the Hudson campus, unlike one of the Warren Street garden variety t-shirts, you know theyâre in on the Hudson joke, self-aware, and while their feet might be in Hudson alleys, their minds are still in the national media and meme ecosystem.
Then there is Trixieâs List, which has evolved into something of a local Village Voice. Few realize that Rich Volo started the project as an entrepreneurial venture with massive public benefit back when the Tourism Board couldnât quite get its act together. Today, Trixie is a helpful institution, covering local events and new openings with a very functional events calendar that keeps the city connected.
Another great new entrant in the "free and valuable" category is the Rivertown Collective. A quasi-anonymous local proprietor, the Rivertown Collective has given us a front-row seat to the rapid evolution of AI video over the last two years, consistently churning out hysterical, hyper-local content that is as impressive technically as it is funny. For example⌠âŹď¸
The Rivertown Collective has many great hits, but see this one feature the original mayoral contenders with a cameo by Carole from the Gossips of Rivertown!
To visualize the local media landscape, imagine a simple two-axis quadrant map. The horizontal axis measures Objectivity, moving from deeply subjective on the left to rigorously objective on the right. The vertical axis measures Wit, ranging from dry or humorless at the bottom to genuinely funny at the top.
In this space, Gossips of Rivertown anchors the far right as the most objective, with a reliable, dry wit that occasionally surfaces. The Hudson Wail occupies the top left, prioritizing satire and humor over strict objectivity. The "Affirmation Substacks" sit in the bottom left quadrant, likely unintentionally, both highly subjective and generally devoid of humor, while Mark Allen sits comfortably at the dead center, a man for all seasons, balancing his personal perspective with a commitment to objective public service moderation.
Ironically, residing on any extreme of this quadrant requires an immense investment of time and intellectual labor. Whether it is the painstaking archival research of the objective top-right or the creative gymnastics of the satirical top-left, one has to wonder: where do they all find the time? It is a testament to the strange, obsessive energy that fuels our river town and media gazers.

A highly subjective and certainly imperfect but likely âdirectionally correctâ mapping of the Hudson Media Ecosystem: where would you place the other publications we mentioned?
We would be remiss not to mention the living and impressive ghost of Hudsonâs journalism past: Sam Pratt. Before he moved out of town to the country to become Gentleman Farmer, Sam was incredibly productive and undeniably impactful with his writing, especially on waterfront issues. More than once, long-time locals have suggested to our editors that we remind them, for better or worse, of Sam Pratt (âbut with an accentâ) to which we joke, we are not nearly as productive or smart, and we hope our services will not be needed for as long.
Hudson punches far above its weight culturally. Its like the New Hampshire caucus of media, small, early, culturally influential but in the end overshadowed by more important places and people. It attracts artists, chefs, designers, and national media figures. But culturally vibrant does not mean economically scalable. Letâs look at the TAM, Total Addressable Market. Hudson has roughly 6000 residents. Greenport has another 4000. Letâs be generous and say 10,000 people in Columbia County actively care about local affairs. Add a few thousand curious observers in Manhattan, the Berkshires, Los AngelesâŚperhaps 25,000 occasional potential readers in total who follow the real estate or aid industrial complex closely. Now apply basic media math: 1% of readers typically pay. If you are extraordinary, maybe 10% might engage on a âhigh-utility nicheâ. That means even a strong regional publication in a market this size might convert 250 to 2,500 subscribers if it is truly exceptional. That buys a few coffees and maybe a girls night out drinks, not a newsroom. Unless you are building a cooking section, crossword puzzle empire, and national subscription engine like The New York Times, a Hudson-only Substack will never scale into a sustainable commercial enterprise, even for a solo-preneur. Local journalism, therefore, is not a viable startup opportunity. It is a labor of love.
This region has never lacked ambition. Serious New York media professionals have moved north and attempted regional plays. Modern Farmer launched here with real talent and national attention, yet ultimately had to streamline dramatically to survive. Best Made Co. was founded in the Hudson Valley and sharpened its literal axes here before evolving beyond the region, selling, and now launching a promising re-invention. To wit, BestMade proves the point, you can fund a media property by selling overpriced axes and camping gear to knowledge workers who miss the country life, you canât fund a country life style with media property. Even Malcolm Gladwell quietly records his podcast from his studio in Hudson, but he speaks from Hudson, about Americaâs overlooked and misunderstood, to the world, not from Hudson, on Hudson, to Hudson.
Local news and storytelling monetization is one of the hardest unsolved problems in media: small markets cannot sustain scaled journalism. Read more on the problem from the Nieman Foundation:
https://www.niemanlab.org/2020/12/the-commercial-era-for-local-journalism-is-over/
And yet, against that brutal math, one institution has endured. Gossips of Rivertown survives not through venture funding, syndication schemes, or reinvention cycles, but through gritty curiosity, consistency, and an unwavering focus on Hudson history, government, and the people who matter. Every few years, someone pitches Gossips on expansion. Each time, wisely, she declines. That restraint, sticking to her knitting, is precisely why it remains standing while so many other well-funded experiments became footnotes.
Let us be blunt: if you are going to spend one dollar on local journalism in Hudson, we strongly suggest it goes to *The Gossips of Rivertown.* It is the only outlet whose number-one focus, full-time, is original reporting on this city. Much of the rest of the local media ecosystem (whether they admit it or not) relies on Gossips for the initial facts, documents, and scoops that later get reframed, debated, or repackaged. Original reporting is expensive, time-consuming, and rare. If you value facts over vibes, youâve fund the source.
If you have a "local journalism" line item in your budget, and we would argue all who care about Hudson should, there is only one place it belongs: The Gossips of Rivertown.
There is a distinct irony in the branding of our local paper of record. New residents are often understandably confused that the most reliable source for news and hard facts is labeled Gossips. It is a testament to Carole Osterinkâs relative precision that the name remains a misnomer. Chalk it up to one of Hudsonâs many insider curiosities: the blog named for rumors is the platform that turns rumors and insider information into public knowledge verified . If London relies on the salmon-pink pages of the Financial Times broadsheet, then Hudson looks to the dark green pages of Gossips.
Long-time readers often refer to Carole as Hudson's "Grey Lady." This isn't a cheeky hat-tip to her retiree status; indeed, she is far from retired judging by her relentless productivity and sharp intellect. Rather, it is an honorific comparison to the once-great **New York Times** in its prime: a reliable record of "all the news that is fit to print."