Howie: So how’s ‘Risky Roger’ doing? It turns out, no risk. It's just good old-fashioned Duluth leadership

His opponent tried to tag Mayor Roger Reinert with that clever little campaign jab last fall — “Risky Roger.” Like slapping a caution sticker on a snow blower: handle with care, might chew your hand off.

But turns out the only real risk was if we hadn’t elected him. Because right now, this town — especially its seniors, renters and working families — is standing on a thin ledge, looking down at problems that polite politicians have tiptoed around for too long.

Assisted Living: The New Polite Stickup

Let’s start where it hurts most: our seniors. Duluth is heavy with them — folks who built this place, kept it afloat through decades of economic waves, raised their kids here, paid off humble homes on 30-year notes. Now they’re living on fixed incomes that can’t keep pace with a single grocery run at Mount Royal, let alone the tax bill waiting in the mailbox.

And lurking out there with open doors and soft music is the new gold rush: assisted living. Drive up the hill, out toward Hermantown or Pike Lake, and the fresh buildings gleam. They look like retirement utopias. But sit with someone inside long enough and you’ll hear the truth.

Elaine, 74, leaned in close so staff wouldn’t overhear.

“They’re polite, sure. But they’re draining everything. Thirty years of scrimping, paying off our house. Now it’s all going here. I’ll have nothing left to leave my kids but old photo albums. That’s it.”

Tom, a retired railroad man whose hands still look like iron hooks from decades on the line, tried to laugh but couldn’t hide the edge.

“They say you’re paying for care. Sure. But kiss the house goodbye. Kiss the savings goodbye. Assisted living’s the new gold rush — only we’re the ones getting panned.”

Then there’s the wise old timer I ran into on Grand Avenue, leaning on the hood of his salt-caked, rusty pickup, steaming coffee in hand. He nailed it almost like a prophet.

“It’ll get to the point in Duluth where you’re trapped. You won’t be able to sell your home, because it’s grossly over-priced and taxed, nobody will be willing to buy it from you, and you won’t have any money to move to another town. So forget about the equity you think you have in your home. The local government will tax you out of it, you’ll spend down your life savings, hand your property over to the government for not paying your taxes, and you’ll either end up in an assisted living facility or living with one of your kids.”

Hard to argue with that.

A Growing Pile of Letters on My Desk

Just this week, another letter showed up, in careful cursive on lined paper. No return address, no name. Just the heavy press of the pen that told you how worried they were.

“Dear Howie,

I’m writing you because I don’t know who else will even read this.

My husband and I both worked our whole lives — him at the old concrete plant, me at a homegrown business that’s been gone twenty years now. We paid off our little house in Piedmont in 2004, thought we could breathe.

Now taxes are up again, groceries are a joke, and the insurance bill went up too. We’re terrified to look at assisted living. Everyone says it’d take everything we have left in under three years. We wanted to leave something for our kids, at least the house. Now we might not.

We’re embarrassed to even talk about it. But I figured if anyone would say it out loud, it’s you. Please keep our names out of it.

Thank you.”

So there it is — another voice from this city that leaders with bigger dreams would rather pretend doesn’t exist.

Renters and Young Families Caught in the Same Web

And it’s not just the old-timers. Duluth’s renters — from young families trying to get ahead to middle-aged workers who just couldn’t keep up with the maintenance on an old house — are getting it right in the wallet too. They’re learning how a 100% spike in property tax levies over the last eight years lands square on their monthly rent.

Megan, 31, rents a modest two-bedroom in West Duluth with her little boy. She waits tables and picks up bartending gigs on weekends.

“My landlord’s straight with me. Every time taxes go up, my rent goes up. Last year it was another fifty bucks. This year he says probably seventy-five. I’ve cut out most everything. I skip meals so my kid can have what he needs. That’s it.”

And now Duluth schools, sitting on nearly hundred-year-old pipes and windows that whistle in the wind, is warming up to push another big tax levy. Sure, they’ll say it’s for the kids. But folks here have seen the levy game enough times to know exactly where the bill lands — right between the ribs.

So What’s Roger Doing in All This?

This is why it matters so much that we’ve got Roger Reinert. For all that “Risky Roger” hype, he’s proving to be about the least risky move we could’ve made. Because he’s actually out there seeing this squeeze first hand — talking to these letter-writers, watching young moms skip meals so their kids can have them.

He’s not hiding behind soft slogans or practicing safe lines for a Twin Cities résumé. He’s buying milk at Mount Royal, freezing his ears off at youth hockey games, showing up to city hall meetings without handlers to shield him from uncomfortable questions.

He’s got John Fedo’s straight talk, Eli Miletich’s grit, Jeno Paulucci’s vinegar — and enough local sense to know that if Duluth keeps choking families and seniors with new taxes and sky-high living costs, we’ll wind up as nothing but pretty bricks and big views with nobody left to wave at.

So how’s Risky Roger doing? Eh, pretty damn good — maybe even great. Turns out the only real risk would’ve been not electing someone who sees how close to cracking we really are.