In late March, a Republican congressman from New York, Tom Reed, apologized to a female lobbyist whom he groped in 2017 and then resigned his seat in the House of Representatives. He publicly acknowledged his alcohol addiction.

Also, former Democratic governor of Maryland, Parris Glendening, admitted in a Washington Post opinion piece on March 1 that he made a “serious mistake” in adamantly proclaiming in 1995 that life meant life for a person sentenced to life without parole. He conceded that he paid too little attention to the value of rehabilitation, maybe even redemption, in prison.

After seven people died in 1982 from cyanide inserted into Tylenol tablets, the Johnson & Johnson’s CEO publicly apologized with little or no prompting for the fatal tampering of Tylenol pill bottles. He did what few corporate leaders: he immediately took responsibility. Some thought he was crazy, perhaps rash. In fact, he was spot-on. The fortunes of Tylenol rebounded rather profitably after the CEO’s mea culpa; marketing experts suggested that the Tylenol brand would cease to exist. They were wrong.

In 1989, news headlines blared reports of a severe oil spill after the Exxon Valdez oil tanker ran aground in the Prince William Sound off the coast of Alaska. Advised by attorneys to express no contrition, the Exxon CEO said nothing to alleviate the public uproar over the disastrous spill. When, after much stumbling, the CEO did claim responsibility and apologized; by that time the company’s reputation had suffered significant damage, as customers shredded their credit cards and stopped buying Exxon products.

A lengthy Harvard Business Review article, published in 2006, analyzed rather coldly and objectively the reasoning behind public apologies by political and corporate leaders. The decision-making process involves a cost-benefit calculation: would an apology help or hurt a corporation’s bottom, or in the case of a politician, his or her polling numbers and odds for re-election?

The magazine writer does not mention—unless I overlooked it, for which I apologize—another compelling reason: it’ is the right thing to do amid a crisis that you or your underlings precipitated. An apology for the plain reality of public suffering would seem to be a convincing reason to seek forgiveness, accompanied naturally by concerns over image.

I realize that some will consider me naive. And that might be true. An apology does not signify weakness, as many believe. In fact, it illustrates evidence of personal and professional character often secondary to bluster and finger-pointing in the public arena.

I recall that President John F. Kennedy accepted responsibility for approving the ill-fated Bay of Pigs invasion of Communist Cuba early in his presidency in April 1961. He had accepted the advice of his military advisors to invade our troublesome neighbor. He learned a difficult lesson that placed him in good stead during the standoff with the Soviet Union over the threatening placement of missiles in Cuba.

When I read Rep. Reed’s apology and intention to resign, I felt sympathy, not scorn for this public official and his demeaning behavior toward a female lobbyist. He took personal responsibility. He publicized his addiction. He accepted embarrassment as his punishment.

The cerebral Glendening, though out of office since 2002, decided to go public in claiming his mistake. While some might scoff at his confession, he certainly had little to gain by refuting his past remarks. I suppose his change of opinion could influence the state legislature as it deliberates over parole for juveniles. However, I doubt many legislators would pay attention to a former governor.

Sincere public apologies—even those constructed by crisis public relations firms—have value. They reflect some humanity and humility on the part of the apologists. They indicate a willingness to accept responsibility, as strong leaders should.

They illustrate sensitivity to public sentiment, if not to the inescapable harm caused by the activity or event that necessitated the public act of contrition.

As someone who has apologized often for my actions, and who has accepted apologies, I think a simple apology has lasting value. The benefit always exceeds the cost.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

When it comes to imprisonment for heinous crimes, my philosophy has always tended toward eye-for-an-eye. Take a life for a senseless reason, spend the rest of yours in a prison, unworthy of mingling ever again in normal society.

I never questioned or doubted that philosophy. It seemed logical and sensible. A murderer or rapist gave up his/her right to freedom after the commission of, and sentence for a killing or maiming of a friend or family member or stranger.

I could think of no reason for leniency or sympathy.

Then, advancing age and consequent mellowing intervened. Not entirely, but perhaps my views softened as my thinking allowed the entry of different opinions.

If a woman kills her husband or boyfriend after violent physical abuse, is it fair to sentence the victim of constant beatings to a life sentence? I say not.

If a man kills a domestic intruder to protect his family, he scarcely deserves a life sentence. He might deserve commendation.

I suspect few would disagree with these examples. The legal system enables the use of extenuating circumstances in grievous cases as these.

When the culprit is a juvenile, who has killed a family member or friend or neighbor out of anger or spite or peer pressure, the picture becomes blurry. Life without parole is a death sentence. Hope is not an option. Contrition is meaningless.

As the Maryland General Assembly considers legislation to eliminate life-without-parole for a juvenile, our lawmakers and somewhat skeptical public need to decide whether rehabilitation is a viable concept supported not only by do-gooders–but by those of us who are wavering from complete allegiance to a life-for-a-life philosophy. The proposed bill also enables people sent as children to prison to be considered for judicial review after serving 20 years of their sentence.

If a prison is more than an unforgiving warehouse, a place that redirects and retrains once young and vicious convicts, then parole must be an option. Governors should play no role in approving paroles. Politics should not be a factor; pleasing your political base is unproductive, if not unsavory.

A tough stance by a governor may be ego-satisfying; it accomplishes little else.

While my thinking has changed, my compassion and concern for a family scarred forever by the murder of a loved one are inviolate. Parole boards must continue take into account, when deciding whether to approve parole, the opinions of family members, who by extension became victims of a horrific crime.

Within recent years I read about the quest for an early parole (eventually granted) for the former suffragan bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Maryland based on her good behavior and sincere regret. Drunk and talking on her mobile phone, she killed a bicyclist in a hit-and-run in Baltimore. A family lost a husband and a father.

The family was aghast at the attempt to gain an early parole for Bishop Heather Cook. Family members expressed their unrelenting opposition to the parole board, which rejected the initial requests.

Some families, so I understand, can forgive the perpetrator and support release from a life term. Forgiveness by a bereaved family of a criminal charged with the killing of an innocent person would be a leap too far for me.

If, however, after 15 or 20 years, a murderer or rapist is considered rehabilitated according to strict criteria determined by the parole board and judged no longer a menace to society, then parole must be considered on a regular basis for juveniles.

Continued imprisonment otherwise ignores a changed person who may contribute some value to society.

Understandably so, this subject is ripe for emotionally charged opinions. I have offered mine.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

When my maternal grandfather emigrated to America from Austria in 1907, arriving at Ellis Island after passing by a powerful symbol of liberty and compassion, he rightly thought he was establishing a home in a country where he could taste freedom every day. He could vote after gaining citizenship without fear of oppression.

He could have a say in a vibrant democracy.

Like so many immigrants fleeing authoritarian, anti-Semitic regimes, he sought the opportunity to flourish as a person deserving of respect regardless of his ethnic background. What he truly valued was to vote without interference or restriction.

Unfortunately, he now would find a country, once brimming with optimism and possibility, a place where numerous state legislatures are trying to suppress the vote by limiting the number of voting places, compressing the time for early voting and restricting mail-in and absentee voting.

For example, Republican lawmakers in Georgia have passed legislation that limits Sunday voting to one Sunday in each county, limits the use of ballot drop boxes, requires absentee ballots to contain a driver’s license number, state ID number or copy of a photo ID.

Why?

The announced reason is to reduce the possibility of fraud. That is hogwash. Election officials nationwide have found little or no fraud.

So, what is the real deal? Some Republican-led legislatures, incited by former President Trump’s outlandish, unfounded claims of fraud (except none in states where he won), are seeking to suppress the vote, fearful that citizens, primarily persons of color, may have the audacity to select Democratic candidates.

It is a sickening display of outright political bullying. Hope for immediate political gain destroys a basic tenet of a once-better country, one that stood out for its ideals, not its malice and attacks on democracy.

State legislators have introduced 253 bills that would restrict voting access in 43 states. In a different set of 43 states, elected bodies have submitted 704 bills to expand voting access. The Brennan Center for Justice is the source of this data.

Not all is shamefully anti-democratic. There are rays of sunlight.

The 2021 Maryland General Assembly is considering legislation to make it easier to vote and exercise your constitutional right to express your like or dislike for a candidate. As you should.

Voting is a right. It is not to be a logistical challenge made more difficult by politicians focused on control and power, the democratic process be damned.

Led by Maryland’s Congressman John Sarbanes, the U.S. House of Representatives is debating legislation to broaden the processes for voting freely and easily. It should not be a novel idea.

It should not be necessary, but it is.

My grandfather would be aghast at the current political misbehavior, as defined by voter suppression dressed up as a supposedly legitimate attempt to fight fraud. The stalking horse, however, is non-existent, except in the misguided minds of ill-informed Trump loyalists.

He would wonder what went wrong. When did hatred replace reconciliation? When did it become acceptable to disenfranchise our fellow citizens by placing roadblocks in their pursuit of democracy?

My grandfather would be disappointed. However, he was not naive. He had confronted religious bigotry. He had closely monitored and grieved the inexcusable murder of six million Jews during the horrific Holocaust.

Puffing away on his ubiquitous cigar, he would barely recognize a country that he loved and respected. He would see blatant attempts, some successful, to impose a shroud of unethical interference on the voting process. He would discern the mischievously deceptive reasoning used to curb democracy for political advantage.

He might wonder: did I not flee the “old country” to thrust aside authoritarian and autocratic attacks on freedom and justice?

As we would gather his loving grandchildren around him were he alive, reveling in his financial and familial success. perhaps he would pause and reflect on the sad state of our democracy. The cigar smoke might disguise his disgust of today’s America.

His grandson would share his despair. It is unavoidable.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

The 2021 Maryland General Assembly seems surreal, devoid seemingly of its normally feverish pace. Its Covid-19 restrictions have drastically reduced public input and intense, one-on-one lobbying.

One Maryland legislator remarked about the eerie quiet, enabling him to go back and forth to the restroom without being inundated with pleas and advocacy. Just imagine carrying out the people’s business without a slew of engaged citizens hovering over you. Introverts may prefer it.

While some may bemoan the influence of clever lobbyists, others may consider lobbying a necessary evil practiced by well-paid advocates for any number of causes, some in favor of pending bills, some determined to kill legislation harmful to their clients. Annapolis is nothing but a cacophony of opposing interests and motives. It is noisy, messy and integral to civil engagement.

A family member representing an industry under legislative scrutiny is coping with Covid constrictions, compelled to meet one-on-one with state delegates via zoom and quick meetings. I suspect that the upside is that she does need not travel to Annapolis and wait endlessly for a bill to be heard.

So, what is bugging me? It is my same old bugaboo: what happens to democracy if public input is limited for good and sufficient reason due to a raging and dangerous pandemic?

There are no public hearings except as executed on the ubiquitous zoom platform. If an industry wants to speak with a legislator, it is by zoom. Input is electronic.

Personal rapport is restricted to a shared screen. You are trusted as a worthy messenger or not, based on your zoom presence.

Some may say that my concerns are meaningless. We are living in a whole new world dictated by minimizing exposure to a nasty virus. I get that.

But public hearings, hallway encounters and snug office visits shine a light of accountability on our public officials. They must perform responsibly and sensibly in front of an audience, though some choose to exhibit bad behavior to gain attention and publicity. At least, however, the public through the lens and conduit of the media can judge for themselves if a public figure warrants respect or repulsion.

Time will tell if legislation passed during the Covid-infested years of 2020 and 2021 can withstand objective analysis in coming years. Will lack of public input and accountability produce flawed and damaging legislative policy that may take years to repair?

It may seem that I do not trust our elected leaders minus the sometime unforgiving glare of public oversight. Actually, I do. I simply trust more the often-unpredictable reactions of the fickle public square.

When the Maryland General Assembly adjourns without its normal fanfare in three weeks, some will be happy with the results, some will not and some will be happy that our legislators can cause no more mischief (not illegally, of course).

I for one will hope that an understandable lack of democratic input will be of little consequence when legislator historians judge the efficacy of Maryland’s 2020 and 2021 legislatures.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

Symbolism matters. So does well-deserved recognition. Often, both take awhile, unfortunately.

I am referring to stalling efforts by the Trump Administration, for oblique reasons decipherable only to it, to place the Eastern Shore’s famed and intrepid Underground Railroad conductor, Harriet Tubman, on the 20-dollar bill to replace the racist President Andrew Jackson.

The Biden Administration has reversed its predecessor’s obstruction, moving ahead to place one of our nation’s fiercest slavery fighters on US currency. The new Tubman 20 likely will not materialize until 2025.

Some may ask: Who cares? Why does it matter?

American currency memorializes our Founding Fathers, such as Presidents Washington and Jefferson and Citizen Extraordinaire Ben Franklin, Presidents Lincoln, Ulysses Grant and Franklin Delano Roosevelt, as well as Alexander Hamilton. Raised in a traditional, patriotic manner, I always imagined (when I was not capriciously spending it) that those pictured or engraved were people whom I should respect, if not revere.

And so I did. Until I learned more about these flawed individuals whose wisdom and common sense still impresses me, in most cases. If I am a young person being taught the meaning of money and about those portrayed on coins and bills, then I would think that someone like Harriet Tubman is an ideal choice.

If some might consider her a politically correct choice to replace the disruptive Jackson, I have one response: baloney.

She is a superb choice. If informed properly by parents or grandparents, children today would learn that Tubman was a heroic savior for slaves in Dorchester County. This intrepid woman was fearless. Slavery imprisoned her friends and family in an inhumane system that trampled people’s spirits, if not killed them as if they were worthless chattel.

It was a shameful socio-economic system that still haunts our nation, if not condemns it for its pernicious past. Tubman’s image on a $20 bill would compel parents and teachers to explain why a little Black woman—with incredible courage and unmatched skill in navigating the countryside and avoiding merciless slave hunters—deserves to be memorialized.

She would be a role model. As a Black woman, she shattered all misconceptions; she surpassed men in her courage and conviction. She was relentless.

Though uneducated, she expressed her eloquence and passion through life-defying actions in a society that in some quarters considered her a no-good thief.

After all, she was stealing property from slave owners, many opined. Tubman’s story must be told. She did not steal. She gave slaves freedom extracted amorally from them.

A $20 bill with the image of a small, determined women staring out at a world still riddled with anti-Black prejudice pays appropriate homage to a Dorchester County native—and American hero.

A tribute written in 1868 by Talbot County native, orator and renown abolitionist, Frederick Douglass, aptly underscores the depth and daring of Harriet Tubman in using her uncanny expertise to carry slaves to lives free of mental and economic shackles:

“I have had the applause of the crowd and the satisfaction that comes of being approved by the multitude, while the most that you have done has been witnessed by a few trembling, scarred, and foot-sore bondmen and women, whom you have led out of the house of bondage, and whose heartfelt, “God bless you,” has been your only reward. The midnight sky and the silent stars have been the witnesses of your devotion to freedom and of your heroism.”

Symbolism has meaning. It conveys a story well worth telling to all Americans. In this case, it also shines a light on a despicable part of our history.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

When I read last week about the proposed purchase of the Baltimore Sun, Capital Gazette and Carroll County Times by a non-profit foundation formed by Maryland businessman-philanthropist Stewart Bainum, Jr., I was overjoyed. It clearly qualified as good news.

The still-incomplete sale will save the Sun from acquisition by a hedge fund renown for cutting newsroom staff and hence local content. The nearly 184-year-old Sun will enter a phase that hopefully will focus on exhaustive local coverage, not ruthless cost-cutting that damages an important tool for democracy.

When I read last week about heroic efforts by news reporters in Texas to ignore their personal discomfort to cover the severe impact of the storm-caused power outages, again I understood the value of journalism to communities hungry for news and information. One news outlet, the digital Texas Tribune, provided public service information separately needed by residents about the weather disaster.

This is not my first column about the nexus between responsible journalism and community engagement. As a former journalist who learned first-hand about the importance of local news to rural residents, I understand the overriding need for citizens in large and small communities to be informed, to be stirred up at times and to feel comfortable with a steady and reliable flow of information.

Word-of-mouth news dissemination is valuable, though often distorted by the flawed human condition to listen only so well and overlay the spoken word with innate bias.

Bainum’s Sunlight for All Institute is viewed by many, including the news staff, as a savior. The heir to a fortune generated by Manor Care Nursing Homes and current CEO of Choice Hotels, Bainum is a former state legislator who lives in Takoma Park, MD. Though not a Baltimorean, he is investing his own money in an institution that serves not just Charm City, but also the entire state.

Why does a non-profit business model matter to survival of a once revered regional newspaper, one that at one time had foreign bureaus?

Though a business concerned too about the bottom line, a non-profit does not have to satisfy investors by making a tidy profit. It can focus on the product and the quality of the content in this case. A lean, understaffed newsroom may very well see some expansion and experience less fear of crippling layoffs.

Bainum, investing his own funds while accepting significant contributions from Baltimore’s Abel and Goldseker foundations—as well as other donations— can provide a boost to a newspaper serving a community yearning for information and government accountability. A newsroom decimated by periodic layoffs and resignations by skilled journalists deprives the public square of dialogue and dissent.

My earlier reference to Texan journalists suffering themselves from cold and misery, while serving readers, testifies to the role played by the print, digital and electronic media. If knowledge is power, then information and civic engagement are vital for public nutrition.

However, we do not need disasters and consequent media coverage to justify the need for a strong free press.

I dearly hope that the sale of the Baltimore Sun, the Capital Gazette in Annapolis and the Carroll County Times in Westminster will go through without undue delay and complication. Also, I hope that readers interested in a healthy democracy spurred by a thriving news outlet will support their print and digital news outlets through generous donations.

The for-profit Star Democrat needs subscribers and advertisers, along with loyal readers. The non-profit Talbot Spy needs donors, advertisers and readers. Without financial support, they will fail. A news and cultural void will result. The community will lose its glue.

The information infrastructure that undergirds every community will dissipate. Consider the local media as you would a public utility. It is invaluable.

This is not a fundraising pitch. Instead, I am encouraging readers to accept that the free press is not free. It requires grassroots philanthropy.

“Take me ham away, take away my eggs, even my chili, but leave me my newspaper,” Will Rogers, the great American humorist, once said. He was right.

Responsible news reporting provides sustenance for the mind and soul.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

A recent study by a transportation consultant questioned the need for a third Bay Bridge span, citing inaccurate traffic projections used by the Maryland Transportation Authority in justifying an additional Bay crossing.

While the state foresaw the need for a new bridge by 2040, the consultant’s study calls not for another span, but massive overhaul of the existing East-West traffic connectors after 2065.

The all-consuming Covid-19 may skew traffic patterns in a way that no one anticipated nearly a year ago: telecommuting may become a permanent part of the workplace, not just a reaction to the lockdown of offices driven by the real prospect of spreading a sometime deadly virus through personal contact.

My journalistic output on this subject even surprises me. Tenacity is one thing, redundancy another. However, this writer strongly believes that the state should cease its understandable preoccupation with vehicular travel and look seriously at rapid transit, despite its cost.

The independence and convenience provided by a car, not to speak of storage capacity, is undeniable. Nonetheless, I suggest that transportation planners focus on a third span devoted entirely to electric transportation.

Annapolis decision-makers should cease its lunge toward building another span for cars and figure how they could design a rapid transit solution that would preserve the Eastern Shore as a precious part of Maryland—one protected from automobile congestion and pollution and preserved for farming, open space, rural life and peace of mind uncluttered by urban stimuli.

Stop the headlong momentum toward a third span festooned with cars carrying families and surfboards to Maryland and Delaware beaches. Stop the threat to the Delmarva Peninsula and its highly desirable quality of life. Stop the inevitable encroachment of urban development.

Is it understandable why thousands and thousands of families seek the fun and frolic of Ocean City, Fenwick Island Rehoboth? Of course, it makes sense—and money for merchants and state coffers. But transportation experts can examine other options, albeit expensive ones, that might carry beachgoers by faster modes.

And clean the air. And save valuable farmland from the acre-eater growth of houses, shopping centers and roads.

Maybe Covid-19, relegating all of us to relative isolation and our own hitherto unexamined thoughts, might effectively compel policy- makers to slow down and smell the wondrous odor of mental relaxation.

Who has not enjoyed nature walks, bike rides and meandering car trips to areas and wildlife refuges previously overlooked, if not ignored?

Recently I listened as a friend described how he and his wife, 17-year residents of Talbot County, have enjoyed some of their constricted time traveling by car in replicating recommended walking tours. They have spent dashboard time discovering areas previously unknown to them.

I marveled at how excited this friend seemed at taking advantage of enforced seclusion. He savored the natural assets of the Eastern Shore. I have heard the same from friends about visits to Wye Island in Queen Anne’s County and Blackwater Wildlife Refuge in Dorchester County.

Though my words may betray me, I am no single-focus environmentalist. I am, however, obsessed with preserving the goodness of rural, small-town life on the Eastern Shore.

A third Bay Bridge enabling thousands and thousands of cars and vacation-hungry families would destroy a way of life that screams to be sustained and valued.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

As talk these days seems consumed with the distribution of the Covid-19 vaccine —have you gotten your shot? how did you do it? —it’s become increasingly apparent that one group of Americans doesn’t trust the inoculations.

I’m speaking about African-Americans, including those working in hospitals and nursing homes who refuse to be vaccinated. A prevalent and nagging thought, understandably so, is the Tuskegee Experiment that misled and deceived black participants into thinking they would receive free medical care for syphilis. They didn’t. The study lasted 40 years, instead of the six months related to the participants.

Over time, I’ve learned that blacks distrust the white medical world. While this feeling may have diminished, it has not disappeared. Some feel mistreated, if not disrespected.

Racism is deep-seated. Its ugly results are ingrained into the black psyche. It’s as if the black community is infected with an untreatable and chronic virus of distrust and fear.

As I read recently, African-Americans represent a third of the Covid-19 deaths nationwide. That is a fact that is startling and upsetting. It symbolizes a sordid aspect of American life.

According to a Nov. 20, 2020 article in the Washington Post, citing a surge of Covid cases throughout the country, “…losses among racial and ethnic minorities remain disproportionately large. Black Americans were 37 percent more likely to die than Whites after controlling for age, sex and mortality rates over time.” The Post analyzed 5.8 million records of people who tested positive for coronavirus.

Last week, a friend, a black woman raised on the Eastern Shore, called me wondering what groups, and what people could persuade blacks, including health care workers, to push aside their apprehension and roll up their sleeves for a life-saving vaccination. What first came to mind were black religious leaders willing to exhort their parishioners to battle a crippling, sometime fatal disease.

I felt so helpless when my friend sought my advice. Racism as manifested in a malevolent U.S. Health Service study is not easily erased from the memories of blacks who for hundreds of years in our country have suffered other, insidious forms of hatred and mistreatment.

As so often happens in our complex country, cures and remedies for medical and societal problems and mysteries face human obstacles created by past transgressions. Pfizer, Moderna and Johnson & Johnson are incapable of finding a solution to the detrimental effect of bigotry.

If not genetic, bias often seems an unflinching part of the human condition. It has no beneficial side effects.

Were I given the opportunity to ascend to a religious pulpit, I would urge, using an equal measure of logic and passion, my fellow black citizens to conduct their own experiment: trust the system and protect themselves, their families and their communities.

I would not presume that I would be effective, or even slightly convincing. That would be hubris.

I believe that the vaccine and those administering it are color-blind. I believe it critically important that the Covid-19 menace must stop ruling and ruining our lives.

Deep-seated fear of white medicine and white promises must be thrust aside for the sake of safety.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

“I am proud to have joined you in ambitious, high-impact work so essential to democracy. You stood up against vilification and vile threats. You stood firm against cynical, nerve-wracking assaults on objective fact.”

So said Marty Baron in a letter to the Washington Post staff announcing his retirement as of Feb. 28, 2021 after eight years as executive editor of one of nation’s best and often most controversial newspapers. In his heartfelt letter, he wrote that “working at the Washington Post allows each of us to serve a purpose bigger than ourselves.”

While I understand that many friends on the Eastern Shore consider the Post a “liberal rag” and “mouthpiece for the Democratic Party,” I disagree. It offers first-rate coverage of international, national and local news, particularly when it reports on the fractious, dysfunctional operation of presidential and congressional actions (or non-actions) and decisions (good, bad and downright nonsensical). 

I would concede that its opinions often reflect a left to center-left perspective, with balance provided by conservative writers like George Will.

I also realize, given the personal investment of a healthy dose of capital from Amazon founder and chief executive, Jeff Bezos, this newspaper has a firm financial foundation, unlike smaller, struggling newspapers throughout the country. 

The difference between The Star Democrat and the Washington Post is comparable to a rowboat versus a yacht. Yet both are providing the first draft of history and hopefully holding public officials accountable; the former’s journalistic DNA, however, does not lend itself to tough, investigative reporting.

When I think about the Post during the past eight years under Baron’s steady, passionate leadership, I commend its relentless coverage and, yes, criticism of a White House leased for four horrible, deceitful years by a president intent on destroying the basic tenets of democracy. 

The assault on the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6 after irresponsibly inflammatory remarks by the president symbolizes, literally and figuratively, Trump’s onerous disregard for democracy. He and his crazed followers wanted to overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election and the legitimate votes of Americans living in Arizona, Georgia, Pennsylvania and Michigan.

Where would our country stand in retaining the precious right to vote were it not for our judicial system and a free, unfettered press?

I’ve observed many instances when party politics and professional loyalties interfered, if not stymied investigations into unsavory and often illegal, public behavior. Journalism, as practiced by those willing to view themselves as serving a cause (democracy), is often the dogged, relentless watchdog willing to withstand scorn and condemnation to hold public officials accountable.

At the risk of possibly retelling a story, as the editor of the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer, 1979-1981, I learned that a local politician was wont to serve alcohol to voters standing in line to vote. It was a quaint, little custom. It also was illegal. I reported on this low-level stunt. The practice was discontinued. The public official, well-regarded and well-liked, never spoke to me again. His anger was understandable. I felt nonplussed by his shunning.

When I think about Marty Baron, featured as editor of the Boston Globe in the film, “Spotlight,” which described the controversy over the sexual predatory practices of Roman Catholic priests in Boston and the shrewd cover-up by the church hierarchy. I lean toward the word, “gutsiness.” 

Why?

“Spotlight” watchers learned that battling the ultra-powerful Catholic diocese was risky business. The ethic in the media and the legal community was governed by a stern reluctance, if not outright refusal, to challenge or criticize the church. Cardinal Bernard Law was powerful, unquestioned by religious and secular leaders, as well as by frightened parishioners.

A poignant scene occurred in the movie when Cardinal Law gives the character playing Marty Baron, a Jew, a book about catechism, a summary of Christian beliefs and principles. The “gift” represented a slyly patronizing way to warn Baron that he was on foreign turf that he should navigate carefully.

Even a newspaper as large and influential as the Washington Post is always treading on thin ice when it confronts powerful, ruthless political leaders operating at the top echelon of U.S. government. 

The journalistic journey is rife with threats, bombast and ostracism. Access to key figures and vital information become closed. Phone calls go unanswered. Scoops are given to rival reporters.

As an avid reader of the Post. I applaud Baron and his steadfast commitment to responsible journalism and democracy. A free press is not an “enemy of the people.” It does not traffic in “fake news.” It’s often a window to unexamined corruption. 

It shines a light when some would want to extinguish it.

Baron wrote in his farewell note, “We must listen generously to others. We owe the public rigorous, thorough and honorable reporting, and then an honest, unflinching account of what we discover.”

Our democracy, though soiled and stained during the past four years, is strong and lasting. Responsible, tough-minded journalism is an inexorable contributor to a country that thrives on uninhibited, reasoned dialogue.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

 

Death last Tuesday night of Russell Brinsfield, 76, from complications following minor surgery has robbed the Eastern Shore of an exceptional leader in land use and sound agricultural practices. He had battled Parkinson’s Disease for several years.

He led the Harry R. Hughes Maryland Agri-Ecology Center as founding director or 16 years, and Wye Research and Education Center, both in Queenstown, for 34 years.

He was mayor for 22 years of Vienna in Dorchester County, where he also owned a 150-acre farm.

He also held bachelor’s, master’s and Ph.D. degrees from the University of Maryland in agricultural engineering.

And Brinsfield was a co- founder and first president of the Eastern Shore Land Conservancy (ESLC). He saw the urgent need to preserve land and farms on the Eastern Shore and prevent sprawl and the loss of valuable open space and farmland.

He was a multi-faceted man whose many accomplishments were hidden behind a soft-spoken, low-key persona. He was driven and committed in a likable way. While he was rooted in Dorchester County, he also was obsessed with data and progress in protecting the health of the Chesapeake Bay.

I first met Brinsfield when I served as a deputy state treasurer and liaison to the powerful Board of Public Works. He sometimes would attend in his role as mayor of Vienna, usually on a Program Open Space matter. When Comptroller William Donald Schaefer would see him in the audience, he would summon Brinsfield to the lectern, call him the best mayor in Maryland and bless whatever project he was advocating.

Brinsfield accepted Schaefer’s support in his typically modest way, his Dorchester County dialect clearly audible. If I recall correctly, Schaefer would thank Brinsfield for a cake or pie that he brought him. Brinsfield knew how to appeal to the former Baltimore mayor’s and former governor’s sweet tooth and taste for flattery.

I believe that other folks in the Governor’s Reception Room joked among themselves about asking the Vienna mayor to advocate for them to avoid the ire from the sometime cantankerous state comptroller.

Also during my tenure as a deputy treasurer, I recall a study assembled by the Maryland Department of Planning and the Maryland Agro-Ecology Center calling for, and justifying agricultural downzoning. It was highly controversial among the state’s farmers, advocating for the diminution of “development rights.” Farmers feared that the value of their properties would decrease, because proposed zoning changes would forbid two-acre lots in favor of 20-to-50-acre lots.

The study showed that the property values did not drop. In many cases, sprawl was kept at bay.

Russ Brinsfield did not fear controversy or disagreement when it concerned the preservation of farmland so important to the quality of rural life on the Eastern Shore and the precious health of the Chesapeake Bay. He didn’t seek discord, nor did he avoid it.

As an ESLC board member, I have learned about his invaluable role in establishing this well-regarded land trust 30 years ago. He mentored Rob Etgen, the founding executive director and president, introducing him to farmers and potential donors.

Like so many other things he did, Brinsfield worked quietly and effectively to create an organization that has preserved more than 65,000 acres in an area that encompasses Cecil, Kent, Caroline, Queen Anne’s, Talbot and Dorchester counties. Etgen is a well-acclaimed land trust leader and advocate.

He was a gentleman, a scientist, a farmer, a politician and civic leader. He was a friend and counselor to many. He eschewed fanfare.

Russ Brinsfield left an indelible mark on his beloved Eastern Shore. We should feel grateful to this Shoreman.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.