Good obits breathe life into dead

Verna Noel Jones, Special to the News

Published March 10, 2006 at midnight

Text size

More Books

Here's a strange fact about death: People tend to meet their maker in matched occupational pairs.

For example, Paul Winchell, voice of Tigger, and John Fielder, voice of Piglet, died a day apart. So did the scientist who isolated vitamin C and the scientist who isolated vitamin K. John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, the second and third presidents of the United States, both died on the Fourth of July, exactly 50 years after signing the Declaration of Independence.

Who could possibly notice these oddly synchronized deaths?

All those people who, like my own mother and myself, read the obituary pages daily. Though obituary reading seems an odd pastime, the allure (say the faithful) is in learning about the spellbinding complexity of people who have walked the Earth and affected it in some significant or unusual way.

It turns out, a whole lot of readers are drawn to the obit page, and obituary writing itself has grown to an art form. Many a newspaper writer displays proudly on his desk the sign "God is my assignment editor," a statement coined by Richard Pearson, the now-deceased obit writer for the Washington Post.

The Dead Beat is a romp of a book that captures with well-placed humor the curious assortment of people featured in the obits, as well as those who write them, read them, collect them and - well - simply are obsessed with them. Author Marilyn Johnson, former Life magazine writer and editor for Esquire, Redbook and Outside magazines, became drawn to obituaries after writing about the deaths of the rich and famous, including Johnny Cash, Katharine Hepburn, Marlon Brando and Jackie Onassis. Her love of "the dead beat" soon grew to include obits of everyday people.

What she found through these chronicles was "the extraordinary in ordinary people," such as the school-lunch lady who would spend her evenings as a ballroom hostess, and the man who would hypnotize lobsters and stand them on their heads. Obituaries often give readers a glimpse into worlds about which they never knew: roller derby, rock 'n' roll, the women's movement, Watergate and many other pieces of our hidden past.

The journalists who write obits have created an art form of these "biographical gems," Johnson says, "folksy writing with a sophisticated spin; colorful tales of contemporary history and nifty turns of phrase."

Johnson considers Chuck Strum, obits editor of The New York Times, one of the most powerful people in the obituary world. The obit writers for his pages set the standard for fascinating pieces. Here's a portion of one by Douglas Martin:

"Selma Koch, a Manhattan store owner who earned a national reputation by helping women find the right bra size, mostly through a discerning glance and never with a tape measure, died Thursday at Mount Sinai Medical Center. She was 95 and a 34B."

While obits can range from the sentimental and clichéd to the condescending, many others are "found gold," including those Jim Sheeler has written for the Rocky Mountain News and The Denver Post, says Johnson. Sheeler has the unique ability to capture the significance of a person, place and era. In one tribute, he writes:

"Agate, population 70, is one of those towns that people describe as 'blink and you'll miss it.'

"Lois Engel loved living in the blink."

Johnson also is quite fond of the sassy obit pages splashed across the British papers - the Times, the Guardian, the Daily Telegraph and the Independent - which are always "snarling and fighting over their version of the news of the dead, throwing down obituaries like they were dice in some ultimate craps game." British obits, dominant in quantity and quality, offer an opinionated perspective of the deceased that dispenses not just the factual truth but the "higher truth" of each person. They often employ understatement, mock-delicacy and euphemism to clue the reader in to what the deceased was really like. For example:

• Tireless raconteur (crashing bore!)

• Affable and hospitable at every hour (chronic alcoholic!)

• Fun-loving and flirtatious (nymphomaniac!)

• An uncompromisingly direct ladies' man (flasher and rapist!)

In short, the best in obit writing captures the great tapestry of human life, with all its flaws and blemishes.

The Dead Beat offers all this and much more. Johnson writes a capsule history of the obit's origins and offers a glimpse into the personal lives of the many writers responsible for them. She shares her experience at a mass gathering of obituary writers as they gleefully discuss the nuances of their craft. She dips into Internet chat rooms where obituary-obsessed people across the globe post their favorite obits and discuss the newly dead. And she does it all with just the right combination of knowledge, wit and wisdom.

This book is sure to be a favorite among those who love a well-turned phrase and can find humor in the seemingly humorless topic of death.

Verna Noel Jones is a freelance writer for the Rocky Mountain News, the Chicago Tribune and various magazines. She lives in Aurora.

Subscribe to the Rocky Mountain News