We often speak of certain institutions as being “the paper of record,” and in the American consciousness, that title is indelibly linked to The New York Times. Its nickname, “The Gray Lady,” evokes a sense of staid authority, of timeless tradition. Yet the story of its founding is not one of inevitable destiny, but of bold ambition, familial rivalry, and a simple, powerful motto that would come to define its aspirations.
The year was 1851. New York City was a bustling, boisterous metropolis, and its newspaper scene was dominated by sensationalist papers like James Gordon Bennett’s New York Herald, which thrived on crime stories and scandal. Into this fray stepped a thirty-four-year-old journalist named Henry Jarvis Raymond. A former protégé of both Horace Greeley of the Tribune and Bennett himself, Raymond envisioned something different: a paper of sober tone and reasoned analysis. With the financial backing of a banker named George Jones, Raymond launched The New-York Daily Times on September 18, 1851. The price was one cent. His prospectus promised to avoid the “partisan rancor” and “sensation-mongering” of his competitors, aiming instead for a publication that was fair, accurate, and dignified. The famous motto, “All the News That’s Fit to Print,” would not appear on the front page until 1896, but the principle was there from the start.
The early Times was a success, but its true transformation—and the foundation of its modern identity—came from the stewardship of the Ochs-Sulzberger family. In 1896, facing financial peril, the paper was acquired by a young publisher from Chattanooga, Adolph Ochs. Ochs doubled down on Raymond’s vision of sober reliability while brilliantly positioning it for a new century. He lowered the price back to a penny, expanded coverage, and, crucially, emphasized accuracy and integrity over flashy speed. It was Ochs who enshrined the now-iconic motto, a direct rebuke to the yellow journalism of William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer. His strategy was to attract a discerning, upscale audience by being the paper you could trust.
This commitment was tested almost immediately and forged its reputation in steel. While other papers beat the drums for war with Spain in 1898, The Times was notably more cautious. Later, its groundbreaking, exhaustive coverage of the sinking of the Titanic in 1912—which relied on facts over speculation—set a new standard for disaster reporting. But perhaps the most profound chapter in its evolution was its decision to publish the Pentagon Papers in 1971. In the face of immense pressure from the Nixon administration and the threat of prior restraint from the Supreme Court, the paper’s leadership, then under publisher Arthur Ochs “Punch” Sulzberger, chose to proceed. That decision, upheld by the Court, was a monumental victory for a free press and cemented The Times’s role as an essential check on power.
Today, The New York Times is a global phenomenon, a digital subscription powerhouse that has navigated the treacherous waters of the internet age more successfully than most. Its journey from a penny paper aimed at New York merchants to a worldwide multimedia outlet is a testament to the enduring power of its founding principle. That principle, however, is constantly debated. What is “fit to print”?
Who decides? Critics from all sides argue about bias, about coverage choices, about its role in a polarized nation. Yet even these debates underscore its centrality. To engage with the news, to argue about the narrative of our times, is often to engage with The Times.
The Gray Lady, then, is not a static monument. She is a living institution, born from one man’s desire for a more respectable journalism, nurtured by a family’s century-long commitment, and tested repeatedly by history. Its foundation is not merely a date in a history book, but an ongoing experiment in whether a commitment to factual depth, ethical reporting, and intellectual seriousness can not only survive but thrive. From Henry Raymond’s quiet ambition to the digital headlines on your screen, that experiment continues.