For many people, the term “muckraker” exists only in a U.S. history textbook—a relic of the Progressive Era that laid the foundation for modern investigative journalism. The term has all but disappeared from the American zeitgeist. However, deep into the 20th century, it still rang true in Cleveland, Ohio.
Roldo Bartimole, DMSB’59, declared by many to be the country’s last true muckraker, covered stories both small and large during his expansive journalism tenure. His work ranged from small-time mayoral corruption in his native Bridgeport, Connecticut, to Martin Luther King Jr.’s impactful visit to Cleveland in 1969. Guided by his instinctual determination to challenge the status quo and force accountability upon long-standing institutional powers, Bartimole’s storied career began at Northeastern where honed his craft and found the voice to speak the truth.
The Northeastern Spark
Bartimole first put pen to paper in 1955 when he arrived on Huntington Avenue as a first-year Northeastern student. “I learned quickly to adapt to Northeastern and Boston. They’re vibrant places that have a lot happening,” he recalls.
True to his word, plenty was happening on campus during the fall semester of 1955—so much so that one news story presented Bartimole with a professional epiphany, pointing him toward a career in journalism.
“There was a big to-do about the live Husky mascot,” he says. “The student newspaper had found out that the university had kept him in Boston instead of sending him to New Hampshire for the summer, as had been the practice. Well, the dog died, and after the story broke, the school clamped down on the newspaper.”
Following a flurry of resignations by newspaper staff protesting the university’s administration, Bartimole seized the opportunity to join The Northeastern News as a first-year student and quickly ascended to sports editor. His coverage of the Huskies’ athletic accomplishments landed him a co-op position at The Boston Globe—which gave him the foundational experience he needed for his first professional role back in Bridgeport.
Finding His Voice in Bridgeport
Over the next few years, Bartimole pinballed back and forth between Bridgeport and the Haverhill Gazette on Massachusetts’ North Shore. His final role at the Bridgeport Post was as assistant editor, where he published stories on the city’s impending housing crisis and poverty-stricken streets.
“Eventually, I was told no more of those stories. I became very, very upset,” he recalls. “Lee Danenberg, the editor of the Bridgeport Herald, called me up and said that he heard they had a gag on me. He said to come over and talk to him.”
The Bridgeport Herald was a Sunday paper that had earned a reputation as the arbiter of the city’s underbelly, representing stories of people who rarely received coverage from the Post. Bartimole and his passion for this storytelling style fit like a glove.
Over eight months, Bartimole turned over every stone in Bridgeport pursuing stories that connected with readers on the fringes of the city’s power circles rather than the elites at the center. His reporting soon caught the attention of larger papers across the country, including The Washington Post and The Plain Dealer in Cleveland.
Covering Cleveland’s Changing Landscape
After moving to Ohio, Bartimole covered the overarching story of how Cleveland had become a “changing city.” “There was a large population that the city paid no attention to,” he says. “I was tasked with going out and doing stories on different neighborhoods. I did stories about poverty and different communities that had been ignored before.”
Around 1967, Cleveland elected Carl Stokes to the mayorship—the first African American elected to this position in any major city. Bartimole was in Akron “caught up in the Civil Rights movement,” but returned to Cleveland at the Plain-Dealer’s request following this monumental and historic election.
“There was a new energy in the city, and a lot of people watching. I was tasked with working a poverty and welfare beat. Well, eventually, The Wall Street Journal came inquiring,” he recalls.
At the time, The Wall Street Journal maintained a Cleveland bureau in part to cover major corporations like Republic Steel and Standard Oil. After eight months of writing about the connections between these companies and city council members, Bartimole left the Journal in pursuit of “doing something more.”
Establishing Point of View
Bartimole had his finger on the pulse of Cleveland’s political atmosphere, and by extension, the nation’s. As things became “hot” around the country in 1968—through endless protests, rising tensions in Vietnam, and an impending presidential election—he decided to start his own newsletter. Aptly titled Point of View, the independent publication discussed how these variables impacted local Cleveland communities.
For 32 years, Point of View was circulated weekly and became a cornerstone of alternative journalism as well as the local bastion of the counterculture sweeping the nation at the time. However, this came at a price—he lived a frugal lifestyle in exchange for his journalistic freedom.
Point of View covered what has been described as Cleveland’s “bigwig triad”: business, politicians, and the news media. His reporting included everything from the urban affairs conference held a day after Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination to forced tax hikes on county residents—with a forced removal from City Hall in 1969 thrown in for good measure.
What helped Bartimole make that leap of faith to leave media giants and ascend to the top of grassroots journalism? He credits his Northeastern experience. “Northeastern gave me confidence,” he says. “My father was a butcher. I wasn’t planning on college until I was drafted for the Korean War. But Northeastern gave me the confidence to get an education, and it gave me the key to unlock the door for my career and understanding people.”
An Ongoing Legacy
Bartimole’s work is still celebrated in Cleveland. Forbes called Point of View a newsletter that everyone “read in private, yet ignored in public.” That sentiment no longer rings true—this past year, Cleveland State University archived every copy of Point of View in celebration of his contributions to journalism and to the city’s history.
Despite what the textbooks say, muckraking was alive and well in Cleveland, Ohio for decades. With Bartimole’s fearless storytelling as inspiration, it will influence generations of journalists to come. “I learned certain things and I made certain sacrifices,” he says reflectively. “I’ve led a different kind of lifestyle looking for the truth. It’s been a hard goal, but I’ve enjoyed it.”
