For Rifkin, the midcareer pivot has been as rewarding as it was surprising. \u201cI\u2019ve found myself, by no fault of my own, in the middle of this great renaissance of obit writing,\u201d he says. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The beat was once reserved for journalists at the end of their careers, a desk nobody wanted to be assigned to. But that\u2019s changed in recent decades. \u201cObits in the 21st century can be just as rollicking and swaggering as their subjects,\u201d former Times<\/em> <\/em>obituary writer Margalit Fox said in the 2016 documentary film Obit<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sometimes assignments take the form of a spot obit, covered as breaking news and written on deadline immediately after a notable person dies. But for many prominent people, especially those who have reached a certain age, obituaries are written in advance. The Times<\/em> has about 1,800 obituaries awaiting publication. Approximately three dozen bear Rifkin\u2019s byline.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Newspaper jargon has a morbid sensibility. Journalists write on deadline<\/em> and old clips are archived in a morgue<\/em>, but obituary writers take it to another level. The Society for Professional Obituary Writers<\/a>\u2014\u201can international organization created for folks who write about the dead for a living\u201d\u2014presents annual tombstone-shaped Grimmy awards. \u201cYou\u2019re never going to run out of subjects,\u201d Rifkin says. \u201cPeople are dying to get in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n But that dark humor masks something that Rifkin learned from writing his first obituary: \u201c<\/em>This isn\u2019t really about death at all. It\u2019s all about a life.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rifkin\u2019s journey to the obit page began with a business book. He cowrote The Ultimate Entrepreneur: The Story of Ken Olsen and Digital Equipment Corporation<\/em> (Contemporary, 1988), a biography of the CEO of what was then the second largest computer company in the world. That book led to a role covering Boston-area business and tech stories for the New York Times<\/em>. More than two decades later, Rifkin heard that Olsen\u2019s health was failing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He reached out to his business editor, who connected him to the obit desk, and suggested that he write Olsen\u2019s obituary when the time came. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you write it now?\u201d said obituaries editor William McDonald. \u201cThat was the first time I\u2019d ever heard of an advance obituary,\u201d Rifkin says. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He took the assignment, wrote the story, and the Times<\/em> filed it away. The obit<\/a> ran a year later and began, \u201cKen Olsen, who helped reshape the computer industry as a founder of the Digital Equipment Corporation, at one time the world\u2019s second-largest computer company, died on Sunday. He was 84.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n This isn\u2019t really about death at all. It\u2019s all about a life.<\/p>Glenn Rifkin<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Rifkin has been writing obituaries ever since, along with his regular business beat (his most recent book, Future Forward<\/em>, about International Data Group founder Patrick McGovern, came out in 2018). He\u2019s written obits about the inspiring, like Tony Hsieh<\/a>, former CEO of Zappos, and the notorious, like John McAfee<\/a>, the software mogul turned fugitive. He chronicled the life of an airline pioneer, Herb Kelleher<\/a>. And he became the go-to writer for another business: \u201cI\u2019ve written the obits of nearly every cable entrepreneur in the last 50 years,\u201d he says. \u201cI\u2019m hoping we’ve run out of cable industry people.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rifkin\u2019s reporting is straightforward. He reaches out to family and colleagues. He finds an expert in the subject\u2019s field, to better understand their influence. Occasionally, he even contacts the subject. Some decline to speak with him, he says. Others are honored the Times<\/em> wants to tell their story and they provide insightful observations about their lives and legacies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDepending on the person and how aggressively involved they want to be in their own legacy, it can be a negative,\u201d he says. \u201cSometimes they want to see [the obituary], which they can\u2019t. This is a story they\u2019ll never read.\u201d The final step before publication is confirming that the subject has indeed died.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Writing an obituary is a delicate process. The importance of someone\u2019s time on Earth must be distilled to a few hundred words. A truly remarkable life\u2014think presidents, royalty, trailblazers\u2014might get a few thousand. The Times <\/em>devoted 13,870 words to Pope John Paul II<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Long or short, portions of most obituaries follow a template. When and where someone died, along with their historical significance, usually fills the opening paragraph. That\u2019s followed by the cause of death or, at least, confirmation that it happened\u2014an obituary editor\u2019s worst nightmare is announcing the death of a still-living person<\/a>. Place of birth, parents and surviving family are also standard inclusions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That\u2019s not to say that an obituary must be a catalog of dry facts. Rifkin worked a tragically comic detail into his obit for William Goldman, the two-time Oscar-winning screenwriter of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid<\/em> and The Princess Bride<\/em>: \u201cDespite being fiction editor of [his] school\u2019s literary magazine, he was unable to get a single story published in it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The renaissance of obituary writing that Rifkin talks about includes a new form of the genre: obit collections which, in their entirety, tell a story much larger than that of one life. <\/p>\n\n\n\n In its coverage of COVID-19, the Times<\/em> sought to show the devastating reach and inequity of the pandemic with its \u201cThose We\u2019ve Lost<\/a>\u201d series. The paper most famously used the format in its \u201cPortraits of Grief<\/a>\u201d series, which told the stories of the people who died at the World Trade Center on 9\/11. The series was a major piece of the paper\u2019s \u201cA Nation Challenged\u201d section, which received the 2002 Pulitzer Prize for Public Service.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The short vignettes of COVID victims\u2014just 500 or so words apiece\u2014revealed the devastating and often inequitable path the pandemic was cutting across the country. Rifkin wrote 12 of them, including an obituary of Elvia Ramirez<\/a>, a 17-year-old on the Fort Berthold Indian Reservation in North Dakota.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI wanted to find out what the life of this person meant to the very small circle around them. We all have some meaning to somebody,\u201d Rifkin says. \u201cI also realized that my job was to convey the tragedy of COVID at a time when so many, especially in places like North Dakota, were refusing to acknowledge the danger and the severity of the pandemic.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rifkin detailed Ramirez\u2019s plans to attend college and marry her boyfriend. He also revealed that her mother, Susan Three Irons, wasn\u2019t allowed into her hospital room. The two were on a video call together when Ramirez went into cardiac arrest and died. Rifkin says tears rolled down his cheeks during his interview with Three Irons. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI got a sweet note from Susan after the obit ran,\u201d he says. \u201cIt isn\u2019t very much solace, but there is something meaningful to know that her child\u2019s story was being shared with millions of readers.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n A reported obituary shouldn\u2019t be confused with a death notice\u2014starting at $263 (or $1,200 with a photo) anyone<\/em> can be remembered in the New York Times<\/em> via a paid placement written by a family member or a funeral director. A death notice is for the people who knew the subject. An obituary, though, is as much a profile as a tribute, and the audience is the newspaper\u2019s entire readership. <\/p>\n\n\n\n By one estimate, 178,000 people die every day<\/a>. Perhaps a handful, on a busy day, make it into the Times<\/em>. The space those take up in the obituary section\u2014or, on rare occasions, page one\u2014reveal the perceived importance of a person\u2019s life. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI was told awhile back that if you do a search in the Times<\/em> archives and that person\u2019s name has never been mentioned in the paper, they\u2019re unlikely to rate a Times<\/em> obit,\u201d Rifkin says. That\u2019s an exaggeration, of course, but makes the important point that selecting obit subjects can reinforce decades of institutional and societal bias. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPeople of color were routinely ignored. Women were generally ignored,\u201d Rifkin says. \u201cIt\u2019s fascinating to look back and see who got covered and who didn\u2019t.\u201d The Times<\/em> began accounting for those who didn\u2019t in 2018, with \u201cOverlooked<\/a>\u201d. The ongoing series seeks to remember people who weren\u2019t honored by the paper at the time of their death. It began on International Women\u2019s Day with obituaries of 15 women, including journalist Ida B. Wells, poet Qiu Jin and Bollywood star Madhubala. It has since expanded to include other underrepresented groups. Rifkin\u2019s contributions include Homer Plessy<\/a>, whose attempt to ride a New Orleans train led to the infamous Plessy v. Ferguson<\/em> Supreme Court decision that upheld racial segregation.<\/p>\n\n\n\nThe Obit Business<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
A Collective Story<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
![\"Glenn](\"\/com\/files\/2022\/07\/comtalk-glenn-rifkin-inside.jpg\")
What Makes a Worthy Life?<\/h2>\n\n\n\n