Get to know political reporter Austin Horn: Stories, impact & truth in Frankfort

First, there is story.

I’ve been surrounded by stories for as long as I can remember. Both of my grandmothers – like many Eastern Kentucky grandchildren, I knew them as “mamaw” – told the best I’ll ever hear.

I shuddered at the classic “Big Toe” bedtime thriller. I got inspired by the time my political mamaw persuaded an ardent sexist to vote for her. I’d roar with laughter hearing about how, as a child, she held on for dear life riding backwards on a mule barreling down a steep holler hill.

You don’t have to be from Eastern Kentucky to appreciate stories, but it pretty much guarantees they hold an essential place in your life.

So, I figured growing up that I wanted to while away my time on earth writing in some fashion. I was open to anything as an occupation.

Then, I found impact.

Almost seven years ago while working an internship at the Frankfort State-Journal, I sat across from a man experiencing homelessness. His voice quivered. He scratched his arms. It was the beginning of an extraordinarily awkward interview.

But as it went on, he told me his story – how his attitude as a young man hurt those around him and himself, what his hobbies used to be and what he could still see himself getting out to do, and the shame he carries around members of his family.

As he told me these things, he grew more and more comfortable with himself. He told me he’d never had the chance to give such a full and honest recounting of his life story, and we left that room knowing each other – really knowing each other.

There is no record of this interview (other than a sophomoric indie rock song I wrote) because the now-deceased subject decided against printing his story. But it did change the record of my personal history.

That interview opened me up to the potential for journalism to impact not only our civic health, but the well-being of just one person sitting in front of you answering your questions.

That summer, I chose journalism. Story plus impact – nothing beats that combination. Nothing ever will for me, as far as professions go.

When I say “impact,” I don’t mean to insinuate that stories should be judged by whether they spark a desired impact. I mean it in the sense that unvarnished truth on a subject is a value proposition in and of itself – increasing awareness, telling it “like it is,” or simply sitting with someone to hear their story.

Which brings me to truth.

Frankfort runs on information, but not necessarily truth. Lawmakers have the incentive to get re-elected. Lobbyists are beholden to who’s paying them. Bureaucrats and party operatives have to march to the same beat as their leaders. In this ecosystem, there’s a need for journalists.

Bias is inevitable. There are thousands of bills, regulations and political moves coming out of Frankfort each year, and there are thousands of ways to cover each of these. Picking a subject, let alone picking an angle, introduces bias from the get-go.

Whether it’s holding public figures to account by reporting on stories they’d rather you not read or explaining important trends in the state, my colleagues and I work tirelessly to get as close to the truth as possible. No other profession in Frankfort has that task.

Truth is a lofty goal, but what makes journalists essential is that we never stop striving to discover and then report the truth.

I don’t mean for this to come across as ‘holier than thou,’ either. There’s equal dignity in plenty other occupations. But it’s worth stating its value clearly in a society that hasn’t figured out how to adequately sustain its Fourth Estate in the changing media environment.

In 2022, public relations professionals outnumbered journalists by more than 6 to 1 in America. No shade to public relations folks (especially the ones I work with), but does that sound like the right balance to you?

At the Herald-Leader, we are committed to serving those who want to hold power to account, as well as those who, like me, just love a good story about Lexington or Kentucky. Heck, I even got to write a story about my mamaw’s political career while making her spill the beans about the time she had her people hand out whiskey at the polls.

Where else can you get that?

Austin Horn

Lexington Herald-Leader

706-571-8597

Austin Horn is a politics reporter for the Lexington Herald-Leader. He previously worked for the Frankfort State Journal and National Public Radio. Horn has roots in both Woodford and Martin Counties.