Raiders of the Lost House Ads

Commentary
By Paul Fultz

Today most news sources are online only. A few still publish print editions as well, but in 2026 news is primarily on screen instead of on paper. Both methods have their advantages and disadvantages, but one great thing about publishing online is you never have to worry about filling space, or running out of it.

Not so with print journalism: you have pages to fill, one way or another. If a story is too long and doesn’t fit you cut it. If it’s too short it leaves a hole that has to be filled, often with a house ad. Paid advertisements are produced by whoever’s footing the bill, but house ads are unpaid and produced “in house” by the publication.

There are many different types of house ads. But in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s when I worked for The Louisville Cardinal, the University of Louisville’s independent student news source, they were usually a cry for help. Literally and figuratively.

At that time you probably needed about two dozen staff members to publish a weekly issue and still have time for fun activities like studying, attending classes, working one or more part-time jobs, and sleeping. At any given moment we probably averaged 12-15 staffers. Thus the constant search for more help, and the barrage of house ads begging and pleading for it.

But it wasn’t all bad, of course, in fact for the most part it was great. We worked long, hard hours, but we were proud of the results and had a lot of fun while we were doing it. Some would say too much fun.

You’d never know it by reading the house ads, though. They were an endless procession of bitching, whining and complaining about our plight and how we needed someone, anyone, to come forth and lighten our workload. Some of this exaggeration was done for comedic effect, and the rest was likely out of frustration and lack of sleep after one too many hours spent staring at a screen that still wasn’t full.

The house ads also took plenty of digs at UofL for not having a journalism program, proclaiming The Cardinal as a great place to get the training that the University either couldn’t or wouldn’t provide. Those were different times, and in those days the relationship between The Cardinal and the UofL Communication department could be described as shaky at best, despite the fact that many staffers were Communication majors.

I was one of those Communication majors and actually managed to graduate in five years despite my casual approach to class attendance and my general avoidance of Strickler Hall, where the department’s offices and classrooms were located.

One day I ran into one of my professors on campus, and he said “How would The Cardinal know if UofL has a journalism program? I haven’t seen any of you in Strickler since last fall, maybe we started one you don’t know about!” Touché, professor whose name I’ve long since forgotten, touché.

But not all house ads were of the help wanted variety. Some encouraged the love lorn to take out ads in our personals section. Some extolled the virtues of upcoming or ongoing features. Some encouraged potential paid advertisers to inquire about our low, low rates.

But all were done with tongue firmly in cheek, as a way of letting off steam and introducing a bit of whimsy into what was otherwise a very serious endeavor. Staffers were proud of the work we did, and we knew that all the jokes in the world about our personal struggles were insignificant in the face of the only thing that really mattered: what ended up in print every Thursday.

Still though, it was nice to let a little of our personalities peek out from around the edges. Because there, under the news stories and all the paid advertisements for movies and beer and God knows what else, was a tiny glimpse at what it was like to actually work for the paper. And if nothing else, we always said it prevented potential applicants and new staffers from saying they hadn’t been warned.

Click to view “Photo Gallery: Raiders of the Lost House Ads”

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Illustration: Self-caricature by Brian Orms in a parody of the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark. Click here for the full image. The text at the bottom says “The Louisville Cardinal does not endorse the consumption of alcoholic beverages nor excessive doses of artificial stimulants. For more information, please call 588-6727, or stop by our office.”