One of my favorite sections of The New York Times is the obituary page. I enjoy reading obits for two reasons. They’re about interesting people who’ve made an impact on our world, and they’re thoroughly researched and well written.
A perfect combination in quality journalism.
Vanessa Gould’s thoughtful film, Obit, which will be screened at the Canadian International Documentary Festival in Toronto on May 2, 3, 7 and 9, takes us behind the scenes at the Times‘ obit department, one of the only ones in the United States.
The seasoned reporters there spend their days reading yellowed news clips, watching videos and interviewing relatives and friends of the deceased. As one of the writers observes, it’s not a depressing or demeaning line of work at all.
Who wouldn’t want to chronicle the life of a novelist, composer, scientist, politician, academic, athlete, real estate developer, astronaut, inventor or terrorist? The Times‘ obits, as I’ve learned over the decades, are a blend of history, political science, sociology, economics and anthropology.
Very interesting stuff.
The writers who churn them out — people like Bruce Weber, Margalit Fox and Paul Vitello — immerse themselves in the lives of total strangers and sort out their achievements and failures in cogent prose.
“I show up each morning and ask, ‘Who’s dead?” says a reporter.
In the old days of newspapers, worn-out reporters nearing retirement were exiled to the obituary department. But no more. Today, at the Times, some of the most talented members of the staff are assigned to obits. Nonetheless, the vast majority of its obit writers are males 55 and over.
Obits have changed, say the reporters. Once dull, demure and strictly factual, the modern obit can be rollicking and swaggering, with dashes of humour injected when necessary.
The reporters live in fear of making mistakes as they try to meet tight deadlines. “We need to be extremely careful,” says Fox. In compiling an obit, a reporter must separate facts from myths and be on guard for exaggerated claims.
In the parlance of the Times, “unfortunate” deaths occur late in the day, when a deadline looms. Obits range in length from a few hundred words to about 15,000 words, which is what the last pope got after he died. There are lively editorial discussions concerning the suitability of obits for the front page, but only a few make it there.
The Times has 1,700 advance obits on file, kept in drawers ready to be used at a moment’s notice. In one extraordinary case, 80 years elapsed before an obit was finally published.
Obit is alternatively serious and jocular, a tribute to the hard-working men and woman who skillfully dissect and explain the lives of those who have passed on.