Daniel Schorr’s death: Why a mystery? Wouldn’t he have wanted obituaries to report the exact cause?
Daniel Schorr’s acuity seemed to grow with age, perhaps because he had that much extra history stored in his brain to compare with the news of the day. Sympathy to his family and friends. The photo is of Mr. Schorr with Scott Simon, his colleague at National Public Radio.
Now a question for the media. Few reporters were more dedicated to the full story than Mr. Schorr was. Didn’t that trait help earn him the honor of a place on Nixon’s enemies list? Wouldn’t it serve the Schorr memory, then, for the press to report the cause of death at age 93 beyond the words “short illness”? I did not see the full facts in obits in the Washington Post and in the New York Times or on the Web site of National Public Radio. Is there a reason for the omission, beyond the family’s apparent preference not to provide the information?
In the past at least—I don’t know about now—Washington Post may not even have published a news obit if the subject was obscure and the obit writer did not know why the subject died. The Post even tried to print the cause of death of people with AIDS. An obituary of J.Y. Smith, head of the Post obit desk, said: “He suggested that those wishing to conceal information or have entire control over content could buy a paid death notice.” The “specific medical cause of death” is at least among the recommended items listed in 2007 for families to include in obituary submissions; also see a current form, partly reproduced here. Has Post policy changed since J.Y. Smith’s retirement from obits?
So what’s the importance of printing the cause? Well, beyond the probability that Mr. Schorr would have wanted the full story reported, suppose he died of a little-known disease that could benefit from more publicity for more money for more research. And if the cause happened to be something common like prostate cancer (probably not the cause of the Schorr death if we go by “short illness,” the Times’ phrase), then reporting it would also have served society. We’ve long gotten past the point where “prostate” is among the unmentionables.
Readers, what do you think? No, I won’t ask for a death certificate or disturb the family—worthy of compassion no matter how they feel about the reporting of the cause. I am just curious why we’re left without an almost certainly innocent fact that I suspect Mr. Schorr himself would have very much wanted revealed. He was a witness to and student of history, after all, not just a reporter. Did the Post gently try such an argument on the Schorr family?
It can be strange, what goes into an obituary and what doesn’t—an issue that arises in The Solomon Scandals—or even whether there is an obituary, period. My late father wanted one in the Post or at least didn’t object. My privacy-obsessed mother—in this respect the inspiration for the like-minded Margo character in Scandals—asked us not to submit an obit to the Post. She declined despite her community activities and her brief career with a business newsletter; so I remembered her on the Web instead, with the approval of my sister.
Pondering these matters, I also think of my friend the late Herman Holtz, a former newspaper reporter from Philadelphia who ended up in the D.C. area and wrote more than 70 books on business. I tipped off the Post, where the obit desk couldn’t have been nicer. Then, in a curious twist, I learned that Herm’s obit would not make the paper after all because his family didn’t want it in. Why? A newspaperman pens dozens of books, including at least one best-seller, and then just vanishes into the mist? I won’t even bother to speculate here; the ways of both families and newspapers can be mysterious.
That said, I’ll email the Post to see if it can enlighten us about its precise policies on “cause” (any factor in whether an obit makes it, at least in the case of nonVIPs?) and about the handling of its otherwise excellent Schorr obit. (Schorr photo credit.)
Update: Adam Bernstein, obituaries editor at the Post, sent a prompt and helpful reply, which I’ll reproduce ahead in its entirety. The gist is that the Post prefers to include the cause of death but does not require it, even in nonVIP obits. One reason appears to be time. The Post publishes 4,000 local obits each year, according to him—more than another other daily paper. That, as I see it, is a major positive, even outweighing the completeness factor. Still, I myself would have appreciated the full story in the case of someone as prominent as Daniel Schorr.
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Sally Quinn, snobbery and the Mink Stole Ladies Syndrome
Washington is full of people telling others how to live their lives or at least wishing they could. Same for the media world. I call it the Mink Stole Ladies Syndrome, based on a party scene in The Solomon Scandals from the D.C. of several decades ago.
Sally Sterling Quinn, with her judgmental dissections of social-climbers such as the late Steve Martindale, isn’t entirely innocent (nor am I, since this post is a bit of a Catch-22).
Having entertained for eons on the Georgetown party circuit, not to mention all her media work, Ms. Quinn probably has committed her own share of solid-gold gaffes. She might admit to as much. On top of everything else, her relations with her stepchildren have been Katrina-stormy at times.
But could critiques of Ms. Quinn’s life, in Vanity Fair, Gawker and elsewhere, be a little over the top—complete with Gawker’s high-schoolish headline, “Sally Quinn Is a Creep”?
Even the Vanity Fair writer, Evgenia Peretz, acknowledges the obvious; yes, Ms. Quinn has been a hyper-dedicated mother toward Quinn Bradlee, who suffers from learning disabilities. She could easily have followed an expert’s advice and have locked him up in an institution, freeing many thousands of extra hours for her journalism and entertaining. On top of that, despite all the time Ms. Peretz must have lavished on her highly readable profile of Ms. Quinn, do we know the full story of the society doyenne’s relations with the stepchildren? Families can mystify and surprise even friends. Consider the separation of Al and Tipper Gore. Remember? The Gores’ marriage would last forever, while the Clintons would race to the courts for a divorce the very nanosecond Bill left the White House.
I’d also caution the media against the reflexive dismissals of Ms. Quinn as a pure elitist snob. There is that side of her, granted, and Sally-haters have even summoned up a comparison between Ms. Quinn and Marie Antoinette, who, like her, gloried in the rural life or, as the critics might put it, the synthetic rustic. But wait. The ultimate elitist wouldn’t blog for the Washington Post and write party tips for the masses; do you really think Ms. Quinn is the same as Washington’s old cave-dwellers? What’s more, consider her enthusiastic approval of Quinn’s engagement to a yoga instructor named Pary Williamson (photo). For all I know, maybe Ms. Williamson is a Vassar honors graduate born to blue-blooded millionaires. But buried in the Vanity Fair article are a few facts that suggest otherwise: “While some observers question Pary’s motives—she seemed to appear out of nowhere and is said to have had a hardscrabble life—those who know her disagree. ‘She really is a very upbeat, very exuberant, sweet, nice person and believes in all the spiritual values of yoga and all that stuff,’ says one of her students. ‘The whole idea of your life lived out in public is not her style at all.’”
Let’s decode that, or try to. What does Ms. Peretz mean by “hardscrabble life”? That like most other small-business people, Ms. Williamson has had to struggle? That she might actually come from a mere middle-class background or, gasp, even below? If so, the facts would not jibe very well with the image of Ms. Quinn as an unmitigated snob. Granted, Ms. Williamson is an instructor to such luminaries as David Gregory, Rahm Emanuel and Katharine Weymouth, but who’s to say her connections will endure forever? Might Sally Quinn’s eagerness to do the right thing for her son have beaten out snobbery? Based on what I’ve read, I think so. Quinn Bradlee has written of his family’s preparations for his life after his elderly parents die. If the publicity is right—I can’t say—Ms. Williamson will be a partner rather than a mere “caretaker.”
While Ms. Quinn’s relations with parts of her extended family are dysfunctional in the extreme, I suspect that her own immediate family, step-children excluded, has been far, far more functional than those of many of the critics. Could a little jealousy be at work here? I wonder after having read A Different Life (Quinn’s memoirs) and A Life’s Work: Fathers and Sons, a collaboration between Ben and Quinn Bradlee, “with observations by Sally Quinn.” Father and son love to saw down trees and do other yard work, and Ms. Quinn has bought her own pink model. In fact, the family acquired a retreat in rural Maryland because the one in West Virginia was too remote, in case Quinn needed medical help for one of his many health problems. Antoinette synthetic? Hardly. Tree-work is what Ben Bradlee enjoyed as a boy: “Pop and I worked out in the woods from the beginning.” Ms. Quinn recognized her husband’s love of tree-chopping and learned to feel comfortable with a saw. In this case she might as well have been a Walmart mom.
Going by some morsels in the Vanity Fair article, I’d wonder, too, about Ms. Quinn’s enemies portraying her as a full-strength home-wrecker. The marriage may already been doomed. Tony Bradlee “had found Washington journalism shallow,” writes Ms. Peretz, and “was getting increasingly swept up in the mysticism of the George Gurdjieff spiritual movement.” By contrast, according to Bradlee’s memoirs, Sally Quinn “found the all-consuming nature of my involvement with the Post natural, even exhilarating.” If Sally Quinn hadn’t appeared, might another woman? I’m not condoning Bradlee’s timing. But it’s his life, and I find it endlessly baffling how people dedicated to the right of corporations to foul the Gulf of Mexico—or at least try to lobby away the regulatory apparatus—would want to dictate their “morality” to Bradlee and wife.
Simply put, although I’d never confuse Sally Quinn with Mother Teresa, it’s time for some tolerance.
Amazon mystery: As of this writing, I don’t see a single customer review of A Life’s Work (rank 28,940 in Books) on Amazon—rather strange, given Sally Quinn’s stature in the media. Part of the reason could be that Quinn Bradlee’s memoirs have already scooped the new book and more directly address the needs of parents of children with learning disabilities. Another could be what others have already noted—the dueling-weddings controversy. Still another could be that A Life’s Work is so full of intimate details that outsiders might feel they are trespassing, especially if they believe they cannot be completely laudatory. I’d rate Work four out of five stars. The book has its flaws but is worth reading if you want between-the-lines knowledge of the ways of certain members of the Post media élite. Ditto—as in the case of A Different Life—if you’re the parent of a child with learning disabilities.
- The Watergate editor and the society legend: A loving look at them by their son who lives ‘A Different Life’
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Apple iPad: Another way to read ‘The Solomon Scandals’ and other books
The Solomon Scandals is mostly about yesterday, but e-books do show up briefly in the afterword. We learn about the Scandals as people looked back on them many decades later in the 21st century.
So what’s it like to read Scandals electronically on the just-released iPad—via the Kindle e-store or otherwise? As both a reader and writer, I’m an instant fan even though my loyalties to paper books remain (Scandals is available in either medium).
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- Buy
- ‘Page-turner’? Or ‘page-tapper’? Just what do you call an e-novel you like?
Truman and the ‘Get a dog’ quote—or nonquote
Did Harry Truman really say, “If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog”? Or maybe “buy a dog”?
In The Solomon Scandals, an eloquent Afghan named Thackeray II quotes that line in a Truman act at the Cosmos Club.
But he gets corrected by Prof. Rebecca Kitiona-Fenton, author of the foreword and afterword of the faux memoirs in the book.
The quote and a predecessor are in fact problematic—the Harry S. Truman library couldn’t find anything before playwright Samuel Gallu used, “You want a friend in life, get a DOG!” in a 1975 play. Dramatic license? But who knows? Maybe someone can surprise the Truman Library and find that the quote is authentic. But at this point I won’t bet on it.
The New York Times, a spreader of the quote, really should consider a retraction. Over the years, the line or similar ones have been popping up there in such places as Maureen Dowd’s column. Both the Truman library and Ralph Keyes, author of The Quote Verifier, mentioned Ms. Dowd’s 1989 use of the quote. Bill Clinton also spread it.
So far the earliest use of the dog quote with “Washington” in it—at least the oldest I’ve found at this point—has seemingly come from former-senator Nancy Kassebaum. When I get a moment I intend to catch up with her to see where she saw the words.
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- Truman dog quote mystery: Help for me from ex-Senator, but still no solution
- Truman nonquote: ‘If you want a friend, get a dog’ — as used by corporate raider Carl Icahn
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