The Obit Is Dead

"She often bragged of her affairs with John Kennedy and Frank Sinatra"
"Friends said she had been drinking herself to death for years," read one classic line from the obituary for a prominent Bay Area socialite back in the early 1980's.

You don't see obituaries with quotes like those anymore.  Let's get real, you don't see much in the way of newspaper obituaries that provide more than a perfunctory recitation of statistical facts and memorial information regarding the disposal of the diseased.

When we lived in San Francisco I looked forward to reading what my pal, Captain Dave, refers to as "the Irish sports pages" each day in the Chronicle.  That paper had some of the most entertaining obituaries of any daily in the country.  I recall the elaborate send off they gave to one of their own columnists, Charles McCabe, when he was fitted for the wooden overcoat.  His lowlife newspaper buddies commissioned a life-sized cardboard cutout of good old Charlie that they dragged around to some of his favorite North Beach saloons for one more round.  It was duly noted by said colleagues  that cardboard Charlie, like the real McCabe, stayed in character by never once picking up a tab.

Newspapers, like radio and TV, are all about business in 2016.  The accountants are running the show and the creative types have been ushered off to early retirement at the track or, more likely, the corner bar.  Editors, proof readers, and writers of obituaries are the stuff of history in an age of Google, spellcheck and do-it-yourself notices written by a relative or friend.

I have been noodling about this lately since finally getting around to reading a book I picked up about ten years ago.  I do that--buy a book with the good intention plowing through it pronto--and then don't.  The book, The Dead Beat, is a dandy salute to the ink stained masters of the BIG sendoff.  Marilyn Johnson, a longtime writer and editor, has put together some of the best obits in the English language, and it is a most welcome and hilarious tiptoe through the tombstones.  I wish I hadn't waited ten years to read it!

One of the funniest and most revealing sections of The Dead Beat regards the use of euphemism when writing of someone's "passing".  A list of euphemisms from from longtime London Telegraph writer, Hugh Massingberd, is delicious:

Gave colorful accounts of his exploits--Liar!
No discernible enthusiasm for civil rights--Nazi
Powerful negotiator--Bully
Tireless raconteur--Crashing bore
Relished the cadences of the English language--Old windbag
Fun-loving and flirtatious--Nymphomaniac!
Affable and hospitable at every hour--Chronic alcoholic!
An uncompromisingly direct ladies man--Flasher and rapist!

Damn, I miss real obituaries!  They're gone now; services pending.
If you want a good one, I'm afraid you'll have to write it yourself.  In the meantime, let me recommend a really good book.