I’ve met many people eager to be called heroes. Fred is the opposite. He shrugs away attention. He’d rather talk about his students than himself. But the truth is this: Fred Friedman is the greatest man I’ve ever met in my career — a hero who never wanted the title.
If Mayor Roger Reinert wants to prove he was worth the risk, he better deliver more than slogans. Because otherwise, the next election’s motto writes itself: We voted for change, and all we got was “cost of living.”
We can either keep patching potholes with pennies, or we can get bold — not reckless, but bold — about what we already have: a city on the edge of the world’s largest freshwater lake, in a century when water, livability, and resilience will decide which cities thrive.
They’re already whispering about Chloe Johnson the way Minnesotans used to whisper about Gophers hockey legends who walked out of Iron Range barns like they owned the world. Only this isn’t the 1970s and Johnson isn’t some elitely-talented kid headed to a smoky college fieldhouse. She’s
The numbers are stacked against the status quo, and the clock is ticking. In 2025, Duluth shoveled $1.2 million in tourism tax money into Spirit Mountain, propping up a ski hill meant to stand independently. That annual subsidy has turned into an open-ended drain, all while one of the
Public ceremonies like this one don’t always make the evening news. But they should. They are checkpoints in the life of a department that few of us notice until a siren wails down our street or a medic kneels over a loved one.
In Milwaukee, people struggling with addiction or mental illness weren’t being cycled through ERs or dumped onto downtown sidewalks. Instead, they had real places to go, real people to meet them, real pathways to stability. That shift gave residents confidence to come back.
The newly renovated Renee Kathy Van Nett Pavilion was built for nights like this. On Tuesday, the gentle slopes of the hillside became an amphitheater, the legacy pavilion framed the stage, and hundreds of Duluthians — families, neighbors, and friends — gathered for a free Music in the Park concert that felt
I’ve seen enough of these USA Hockey Olympic rosters to know the ending before the credits roll. Forty-four names were dropped Tuesday for what they’re calling an “orientation camp” in Plymouth. Translation: a few days in a hotel ballroom, no ice, no sticks, just endless PowerPoint slides and
The Chamber will recognize award winners for contributions to the organization and the local business community.
Hubert Humphrey wouldn’t mince words. He’d say: Don’t forget them. Don’t forget the little guy. Don’t forget the people who don’t have lobbyists, who don’t have PACs, who don’t write $5,000 checks at fundraisers. Don’t forget the seniors who built our towns and now count pills at the kitchen table.
“This is more than just coverage. It’s a place for fans to connect, celebrate, and experience the thrill of high school sports like never before.” -- Chris Carr, who’s running point on Strib Varsity
Houston shows up Saturday afternoon to see if the foundation is as wobbly as it looks on paper.
