THE GOLDEN AGE OF COMMUNITY MEDIA – A Personal Journey

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By Paulo Pereira

For decades, the Portuguese community in Toronto was blessed with a vibrant press scene — a network of newspapers that kept us informed, connected, and proud of who we were. This a short perspective of those golden years, and my own personal journey through them.

There was a time — not so long ago — when the Portuguese community in Toronto was spoiled for choice when it came to reading the news in our own language. We had Sol Português, Família Portuguesa, The Voice, Milénio, Team Desportivo, Flash Newspaper, Portuguese Post, Stadium, ABC News, and Jornal da Aliança, among others. The community was vibrant, engaged, and extraordinarily well served.

My own journey in community media began in the year 2000, when I joined Sol Português. It was my first taste of journalism, and it opened my eyes to the people, stories, and spirit that made our community so unique. At Sol Português, I covered countless events, wrote short stories, and interviewed personalities from across the cultural spectrum. I’m proud to say I was the first to ever interview Marisa in Toronto — long before she became a household name — and the first to speak with Shawn Desman (Shawn Fernandes, as we knew him in the community) after he signed his first major contract with BMG Canada.

At Sol Português, Mr. António Perinú, the Director, always demonstrated a deep belief in me and treated me with the utmost respect. In fact, at one point he even offered me the opportunity to receive formal journalism accreditation from Portugal. However, in those days I was still quite immature to understand the scope of all those opportunities. In my mind, there were other plans, bigger goals I wanted to accomplish.

I eventually left Sol Português because I received an offer I could not refuse. Even though my involvement in community media was purely a part-time gig, the financial benefits also weighed heavily on my decision. In the end, I left to the dismay of Mr. Perinú, who had given me everything, who had provided me with the opportunity to learn and to grow as a community “journalist”. Although I have always expressed my gratitude, I also understand his disappointment when I announced that I was leaving. However, and even though I had become persona non-grata at Sol Português (which I always thought was extremely exaggerated and uncalled for), I never ceased to feeling grateful for the opportunities. To this day, my heart is filled with gratitude.

Team Desportivo: The Sports Chapter

In those days, football — or soccer, as Canadians insist on calling it — was my passion. So when the opportunity came in 2002 to join Eduardo Vieira’s Team Desportivo, I didn’t hesitate. It felt like the perfect match. I spent my weeks covering local games, connecting with players, fans, and club leaders, while also serving as Editor, overseeing the newspaper’s weekly publication. It was an exhilarating time that brought me closer to the community than ever before.

Behind the headlines, however, community journalism required incredible dedication. Resources were limited, costs were high, and the energy needed to keep things going often felt endless. Our team was small but mighty: two writers (who doubled as editors), one salesperson, one graphic designer, and Eduardo Vieira himself — a tireless, creative hustler with an extraordinary work ethic and a vision for Portuguese-language media.

Team Desportivo gave me some of my proudest professional moments. But as the newspaper grew, so did the recognition of our work. People with influence — within and beyond the GTA — began to take notice of the energy, reach, and commitment we were bringing to community journalism. New opportunities started to emerge, offering the chance to expand what my colleagues and I were doing to a larger stage.

I’ll never forget a conversation with the late Fernando Cruz Gomes, one of the greatest reporters our community has ever known. He warned me gently: “Be careful. It’s your third newspaper in four years.” I understood his concern. But what I couldn’t fully explain at that moment was that this wasn’t about leaving something behind — it was about growing, moving forward, and embracing the opportunities that my work had helped create.

Flash Newspaper: A Dream in Print

That’s when Flash was born — a new newspaper I co-founded with David Silva, one of the most respected names in Portuguese-language media in Toronto. The first edition took us over three weeks to complete. On the final night, a small team of five of us worked for more than 24 hours straight, perfecting every detail before sending it to print. When Flash hit the stands, the response was extraordinary.

We were the first community newspaper in Toronto to purchase high-quality photographs directly from professional photographers in Portugal, and our pages were filled with sharp, vibrant images. Our main focus was soccer — especially community soccer. We covered everything from local matches to Portuguese league results and even included a weekly section on “Portuguese Players Abroad,” updating readers on their performances around the world.

Every week, I drove to London, Ontario, to cover at least one game, usually involving the Portuguese Club or Benfica of London. In Toronto, I covered five or more matches a week, while David Silva did the same. My good friend Mário Ferreira wrote about Formula 1, and we even had a correspondent in the Azores covering Azorean soccer. To add some humour and identity, we introduced a column featuring four colourful characters: Professor Bolinhas representing Benfica, Manel Bancadas for FC Porto, Leão Fanático for Sporting, and Dr. Intrigas, our anonymous voice on the juicier — and sometimes controversial — community stories.

Every single day we were out on a field somewhere either covering the Toronto Soccer Association’s league, the Ontario Cup, the South Western Ontario Soccer League, the Portuguese Canadian Soccer League, the Friendship Soccer League, and the Consuls Cup. We even covered youth soccer games. In our pages, our amateur athletes became starts, just like the pros. Funny thing is that, at the time, I also played and captained Gil Vicente FC of Toronto. After each game, I would write about it and tried to be as fair as possible.

A Paper that Traveled Far

Flash quickly became a success. We were the first Toronto-based Portuguese newspaper to reach as far as London — and even New Jersey in the United States, where my cousin Flora Miranda distributed it faithfully. Most Mondays, I personally delivered the newspaper outside Toronto, starting at 5 a.m. and often finishing close to midnight. In fact, we were the first community newspaper to be delivered beyond the borders of the Greater Toronto Area.

Even before we launched our first edition, we visited London to garner support. On a rainy day, David Silva and I knocked on every single business we could. Every time, we were rejected. But we did not dismay. At the London Portuguese Club and then at Sport London Benfica, we regained confidence after meeting community leaders that were excited with the idea of promoting their own initiatives beyond the London area.

It was here that we heard about António Campos, a local journalist with extensive experience writing for “Jornal de Notícias”, one of the largest newspapers in Portugal. Campos had just launched the last edition of “Em Foco” magazine, a quality monthly publication that covered local events, when we met with him. In London, he had also been a reporter for “Portugal Notícias”, a local community newspaper. We explained the project and our vision for a community united beyond traditional borders. António Campos listened attentively, asked many questions, and let us know that he would think about it. However, we could see the sparkle in his eyes. A few days later, I received a call from him announcing that he was ready to collaborate with Flash. Campos became the main reason we were successful in London. He not only wrote quality articles, but he also gathered advertising and distributed our newspapers in London and Strathroy.

I’ll never forget arriving at Portuguese bakeries and cafés in Mississauga, Brampton, Kitchener, Cambridge, London, Hamilton, Oakville, Oshawa, and Bradford — only to find people waiting at the door, eager to grab a fresh copy. We could never print enough. But success didn’t always come with gratitude. Instead of praise, we often received complaints. “Why did you say our team deserved the loss?” was a common one. Some even asked us to soften our coverage, but we refused. We were determined to report honestly — even if it meant losing a few friends along the way.

The Fall of Flash

Financially, Flash was a struggle from the very beginning. Community newspapers lived and died by advertising, and ours was no exception. Securing consistent sponsors was hard; payments often came late — if they came at all — and the cost of printing, distribution, and covering events kept climbing. By the end of 2010, after more than six intense years in operation, the numbers no longer made sense. The paper had grown in spirit, but the financial reality had become impossible to ignore. We had no choice but to close.

I remember that final meeting vividly. It took place on a location that had witnessed countless brainstorms, deadlines, and moments of laughter over the years. But that day, the atmosphere was different. I was in the middle of a major personal transition — everything in my life seemed to be shifting at once. The closure of the newspaper wasn’t just a professional decision; it was symbolic of a chapter ending.

The truth is, I didn’t care about the $60,000 I had personally lost keeping Flash alive. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t bitter. I was simply ready to move forward. After a decade of intense commitment — all of it before my kids were born — I knew I had given everything I could to this project. It felt like the end of a long, unforgettable film. A film with no script, no perfect plan — just passion, hard work, and a lot of heart.

Those were some of the most fulfilling years of my life. We built something real — something that connected people and celebrated our culture in a way few projects have ever managed to do since. We made people laugh, argue, cheer, and feel proud to be part of a community. Flash may have closed its doors, but its spirit lived on in every conversation, every memory, and every person who ever picked up a copy hot off the press.

And as I walked away from that meeting, I carried no regrets — only gratitude for having lived through a decade that felt larger than life.

Jornal da Aliança

In those days, I wasn’t just immersed in media — I was deeply involved in the life of our community. It was a time when everything felt connected: the stories we told, the organizations we supported, and the sense of purpose that tied it all together. Joe Eustaquio, then president of ACAPO, recognized the energy and quality of the work we were doing. One day, he approached us with an idea that carried both weight and meaning: help him resurrect Jornal da Aliança.

We agreed on the terms and got to work. What followed was one of the most rewarding experiences of my career in community media. We built something special — a paper that truly reflected who we were as a community. There were pages dedicated to the pioneers who had paved the way, sections celebrating community events, columns for ACAPO news, and space for opinion pieces that gave everyone a voice. We profiled leaders who shaped our history and future, included a page for editorial reflection, and even opened the door for letters addressed directly to the president of ACAPO.

Everything about Jornal da Aliança was rooted in the community — original content, real people, real stories. It wasn’t just a newspaper; it was a collective heartbeat printed on paper.

But, like so many community publications before it, the greatest challenge wasn’t passion or creativity — it was sustainability. Advertising was scarce, and without the financial foundation to keep it alive, the publication eventually fell silent once again.

Still, those editions remain. The memory of that project, the people who contributed, and the spirit behind every page are part of our shared story. It was brief, but it was powerful. And for a moment, Jornal da Aliança once again carried the voices of a community that refused to be invisible.

The Decline of an Era

After Flash closed, one by one, the others began to fade. Even Sol Português, my first home in journalism, eventually shut its doors (read the piece here). Eduardo Vieira later tried to revive the spirit of community media by attempting a daily edition — but the times had changed. The internet had taken over. The world was now at everyone’s fingertips, and few felt the need to pick up a community newspaper anymore.

Today, only two Portuguese-language newspapers remain in Toronto: Milénio and Correio da Manhã Canadá. But they face a different reality. They no longer cover community life with the same depth we once did — not by choice, but by circumstance. Integration, changing readership habits, and lack of support have reshaped the media landscape.

Remembering the Golden Years

The golden years of Portuguese-language newspapers in Toronto are behind us. Yet, I remain deeply proud of what we accomplished. I remain deeply proud for having been part of those incredible years. Those newspapers captured the heartbeat of a community in its prime — one that celebrated its culture, argued passionately about soccer, and supported one another through the power of the printed word. And I have no doubt that the same people who once criticized us for our headlines are the very same ones who now miss those days the most. Because in the end, those papers weren’t just news — they were our essence.

About the Author: Paulo Pereira is the founder and editor of lusocanada.com. A longtime journalist and storyteller, he began his career in Portuguese-language community media in 2000 and continues to document the people, history, and evolution of the Portuguese-Canadian experience.

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