Biased—but not in the way you think

Brett Freeman

If you think we're biased, you’re right. But not in the way you think.

People know my political ideology. I don’t hide it. I write Publisher’s Memos. I say what I think about national politics, free speech, media, immigration, Israel—you name it. I don’t pretend to be neutral. Readers know where I stand.

But if anyone thinks this translates into bias for or against local politicians, that accusation misunderstands community journalism and how organizations function.

Our bias has nothing to do with ideology. Our bias is toward access, communication and respect.

We have a small staff that covers six towns. In every one of them, people think they know who we favor. They’re wrong. They read tea leaves that don’t exist.

Here’s how it actually works:

Some officials talk to us. Some don’t.

Some return calls. Some don’t.

Some answer questions. Some don’t.

Some believe in transparency. Some don’t.

I've made this Opinion section an open forum for local leaders and politicians. Some regularly take advantage of it. Some don't.

That’s where the so-called “bias” begins—and ends.

Between our six newspapers, we’ve dealt with every type of public figure and institution. We’ve had school superintendents who gave us their cell phone number on day one and said, “If something happens, call me.” And we’ve had others who communicate strictly through a communications employee and disappear when we ask a hard question. Guess which district looks more transparent to the public? Guess which one accuses us of being unfair?

When we profiled candidates for Congress in 2024, it took us days just to get Mondaire Jones’ campaign to acknowledge our request. It shouldn't have been that difficult. Meanwhile, Congressman Mike Lawler made himself quickly available to our readers, and he's continued to do so while he's served as our district's representative. I don’t think it’s a coincidence he won. But I’ll also say this to Lawler directly: I know you like the bright lights of New York and D.C. media, but don’t forget where your voters live. Don’t forget the importance of local press as we head into 2026.

But for those local officials who refuse to speak to reporters, don’t complain when your perspective isn’t in the story. If you dodge questions for weeks, don’t whine about one-sided coverage. Silence isn’t a communications strategy.

We mail to more than 25,000 households twice per month and another 16,000 once per month—over 40,000 newspapers mailed every month. That’s not theoretical reach. That’s not an algorithm. That’s not a paid boost. That’s real print, read by real people: voters, parents, taxpayers, neighbors.

And yes, newspapers still “buy ink by the barrel,” as the old line goes. That’s not a threat—it’s a reminder. We have our own constituency. Just as you have thousands of people who vote for you, we have thousands who request and read our papers. And unlike most political bases, our readership is ideologically diverse. Ignore us if you want—but when you ignore us, you ignore them. That may be unwise.

Some local officials treat us with professionalism. They earn our respect because they respect our readers. They answer questions. They communicate. They show up.

Then there are others—the ones who act like reelection is automatic and they don’t need to speak to anyone, including their own voters. They vanish until October (or May for school boards). They hide until it’s convenient. Maybe that works for them—until it doesn’t. Political winds shift fast. When they do, silence becomes a liability.

And then there are the petty ones—the ones who avoid our reporters because they don’t like my personal opinions. Recently, someone at a public event told people not to speak to one of our reporters because “you can’t trust the publisher, he’s conservative.” This came from someone I had just extended a professional courtesy to. Did it piss me off? Yes. Did it change our coverage? No. Our work is in the open. Our corrections run in print. We don’t play whisper games.

We don’t need praise from politicians. We don’t need anyone to like us. But if you hold public power, talk to the public—through us, or through any legitimate forum. Return a call. Respond to an email. Issue a statement. Show up.

We’re not anti-anyone. We are pro-reader. Pro-accountability. Pro-community discourse. In 2025, that apparently confuses people who only understand media through the lens of national outrage.

This is local journalism. It’s not a game. We tell the stories of high school teams, small businesses, firefighters, veterans, students, charities, and neighbors who still believe in community. We sit through town board meetings so others don’t have to. Through our coverage, we've helped raise thousands of dollars for families in need. We've printed lost dog photos and we've helped a couple of readers find a kidney.

So do we have a bias? Yes. We are biased toward people who take the time to talk to us and tell us their story. If you want to be heard, speak. If you want to be trusted, participate. If you want fair coverage, return the call.

Because we’ll still be here—with questions. And with readers who still care about their communities.