TKC Reader: Crooked KCUR Pushes Rigged Kansas City Hiring

Here's the complaint from just about everyone at 12th & Oak . . .

THE CITY MANAGER JOB IS NOT ONLY RIGGED BUT ALSO RACIALLY BIASED IN A DOCUMENTED EFFORT TO CHAMPION "DIVERSITY" OVER QUALIFICATIONS!!!

Again . . .

That's not just TKC opinion or speculation but something from a memo that was sent directly to Mayor Q and available to everyone via Sunshine request. 

Moreover . . . TKC proved FIRST to report this e-mail but even Fox4 has a copy of the "unconscionable" claim and allegations of racially charged advocacy.

Accordingly . . .

We're sharing this insider perspective on the upcoming hire that offers more context than any other media outlet in Kansas City . . . Here's the word . . . 

KCUR in the tank with Q and no ethics

In Kansas City, where the stakes of leadership are high and the scars of mistrust run deep, KCUR has sunk to a new low in journalistic malpractice. On April 28, 2025, their flagship program, Up To Date, aired an interview that didn’t just bend the truth—it buried it. The subject was Kimiko Gilmore, interim city manager and a finalist for the permanent role, propped up as a beacon of transparency despite a career built on connections rather than competence. The real scandal? KCUR gave her a solo spotlight, ignoring the other candidates vying to lead the city, exposing a shameless bias that mocks the public’s right to an honest narrative.

Kansas City is reeling. The March 2025 firing of former city manager Brian Platt, ousted after a whistleblower lawsuit revealed his alleged habit of spinning lies, left City Hall in disarray. Platt’s unanimous dismissal by the council wasn’t just a firing; it was a public reckoning, with his tenure branded a stain on the city’s reputation. Into this void stepped Kimiko Gilmore, a career insider who’s now angling for the top job. KCUR, with its NPR polish and self-righteous claims of public service, had a chance to guide Kansas City through this pivotal moment by scrutinizing all candidates. Instead, they handed Gilmore a megaphone, turning Up To Date into a one-woman propaganda stunt.

Gilmore’s resume is a study in cronyism, not accomplishment. Starting as a lowly council aide decades ago, she didn’t climb the ladder through grit or results but by cozying up to the right players in City Hall’s backrooms. Her ascent to Deputy City Manager, a role she held before her interim appointment, owes more to who she knew than what she did. No transformative policies, no bold initiatives—just a knack for staying in the good graces of Kansas City’s political machine. Yet KCUR, in a breathtaking betrayal of journalistic duty, presented her as a seasoned leader without questioning her thin record or probing how her insider status might perpetuate the opacity Platt left behind.

The decision to platform Gilmore alone, while leaving her competitors—whose names KCUR conveniently omits—in the shadows, screams of favoritism. Was this a calculated move to boost a connected insider? By refusing to even acknowledge the other finalists, let alone give them airtime, KCUR didn’t just tilt the scales; they rigged the game. This isn’t reporting—it’s a coronation, a cynical ploy to anoint Gilmore before the public can weigh the options. Kansas City deserves to hear from every candidate vying to steer its future, not just the one who’s spent years schmoozing her way to the top.

KCUR’s apologists might claim Gilmore’s interim role justifies the focus. She’s the one in the hot seat, after all, steering the city through Platt’s wreckage. But that logic is flimsy at best. The city manager selection isn’t a solo act; it’s a contest. Other candidates, presumably vetted by the same council that sacked Platt, have visions for Kansas City’s streetcar expansion, ozone crisis, and fractured public trust. By silencing them, KCUR didn’t just fail to inform; they manipulated the narrative, handing Gilmore a free pass to spin her “transparency” shtick without competition or scrutiny.

This isn’t KCUR’s first dance with selective storytelling. During Platt’s reign, they dragged their feet on covering his alleged deceptions, only amplifying the story after a $900,000 jury verdict in favor of whistleblower Chris Hernandez forced their hand. Now, with Gilmore, they’ve gone from passive neglect to active boosterism. The Up To Date interview, hosted by Steve Kraske, was a masterclass in kid-glove journalism. Gilmore, unchallenged, droned on about “building community confidence” while Kraske lobbed softballs, never pressing her on her lackluster record or her role in a Platt administration that thrived on secrecy. Where were the questions about her council aide days? Her reliance on political favors? Her absence of tangible achievements? Nowhere—just a platform for a career climber to play reformer.

The damage is done. Kansas City’s residents, battered by years of City Hall scandals, are left with a skewed portrait of a candidate who’s all connections and no substance. KCUR’s refusal to platform other finalists doesn’t just undermine the selection process; it spits in the face of a public craving clarity. Listeners tuning into Up To Date expect a program that “keeps our city connected,” as KCUR’s branding boasts. Instead, they got a scripted love letter to Gilmore, paid for with their trust. The irony stings: a station that peddles “support our journalism” tote bags during pledge drives can’t muster the integrity to practice the transparency it preaches.

The local media landscape is watching. Just days before KCUR’s Gilmore puff piece, outlets like The Beacon, Kansas City PBS, and even KCUR’s own interim content director, Lisa Rodriguez, signed an open letter demanding City Hall prioritize open records and honest communication in the post-Platt era. Yet KCUR, a supposed champion of that cause, turned around and flouted its own principles by giving Gilmore an unchallenged stage. The hypocrisy is galling.

Kansas City deserves better than a city manager handpicked by KCUR’s bias. The next leader will shape the city’s infrastructure, safety, and soul, and the public has a right to hear from every contender, not just a well-connected aide-turned-insider. By rigging the narrative, KCUR has betrayed its mission and tarnished its credibility. If they want redemption, they must act now—invite the other finalists, ask the tough questions, and let the public decide who can truly deliver the transparency Kansas City craves. Until then, KCUR’s airwaves will ring hollow, echoing not truth, but the clatter of a machine that’s already chosen its queen.

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