Once word of New York Times writer David Carr passing away began to circulate on Twitter Thursday night, my plans for the evening and day ahead suddenly didn’t feel very important.
My original intention was to watch NBC’s The Slap to write a review for Friday morning. Later in the day, I hoped to catch an early screening of Kingsman: The Secret Service, eyeing a Friday afternoon review. That’s not something you likely care about, and it’s surely self-indulgent for me to begin this post that way. I apologize, but feel like I need to convey just how jolting news of Carr’s death was. And I’ve never met the man.
Initially, it seemed like a rumor. A few NYT staffers tweeted that Carr had died, and editors asked them to take down the posts. Was that because they weren’t true? Or was the news indeed factual and the paper wanted to let Carr’s family and everyone in the NYT offices know what had happened first?
After tweeting that David Carr had died, NYT editor asks another editor to remove tweet pic.twitter.com/nuVQl9EL4d
— Oliver Darcy (@oliverdarcy) February 13, 2015
These are the concerns which have to be dealt with in our current age. The instinct is to get the news out there. Human beings want to share their feelings and reactions. Yet this was someone’s life — and death — being discussed here. Breaking news wasn’t the most important consideration.
Was this true? Was it a hoax? That’s unfortunately a question that has to be asked these days in the absence of official word or confirmation. Carr dying seemed inexplicable because it happened so quickly, so suddenly.
Many on Twitter spoke of seeing him just hours before, interviewing Edward Snowden, journalist Glenn Greenwald and filmmaker Laura Poitras about their documentary Citizenfour for an event at The New School. I had similar thoughts, having seen Carr the night before on CNN, talking to Anderson Cooper about the Brian Williams suspension. Of course, that’s what often makes tragedy so tragic. We don’t expect it. We don’t see it coming. We’re not prepared for it.
Eventually, however, the NYT made the news official with its own story. The institution that meant so much to Carr, that he fought so hard to work for and defend, announced the bad news to the world with one voice.
Breaking News: David Carr, Media Columnist for The New York Times, Is Dead at 58 http://t.co/uM7jLsiPjv — The New York Times (@nytimes) February 13, 2015
It was no longer rumor and speculation. Carr truly had passed away Thursday night at the NYT offices. And with the truth becoming apparent, there was an outpouring of sympathy and tribute on Twitter.
Former colleagues spoke glowingly of working with him and how he upheld the standard of journalism at the NYT. Protégés and acquaintances shared stories of how Carr had mentored them, even if it was with just a short bit of advice. What was most meaningful is that Carr could recognize talent and ambition, and encouraged young writers to stick with journalism, work at the craft and find the right outlet for their skills. Carr wasn’t just giving #AdviceForYoungJournalists platitudes. He was sharing life lessons.
He was only 58 years old, but had seemingly lived at least two lifetimes. If you read his memoir, The Night of the Gun, it’s difficult to believe that Carr is not only writing about himself and his past, but that he’s writing about the same person. Even just the pictures are jarring. Carr looked like a completely different person more than 20 years ago. Few veteran journalists had the same perspective and life experience Carr did, and being given a second chance at life and success clearly invigorated him every day.
One of the first things I saw posted in tribute to Carr was a scene from Andrew Rossi’s 2011 documentary, Page One: Inside the New York Times. The film is about the paper’s effort to stay relevant and prosperous as print media continues to die a slow death. I don’t know if Rossi intended to make Carr the center of his movie, but he obviously realized that the NYT‘s media columnist was a tireless worker, public champion and engaging personality that forced the story to revolve around him.
Part of Carr’s beat was to cover changes in the media, new sites and outlets that were making an impact and analyze the subsequent ripple effects of that success. The Page One scene many cited in the hours after Carr’s death was a visit to Vice, who had just partnered with CNN and appeared to be a new model of news. Carr was curious, but also dubious. He wasn’t there to write a puff piece about the new hotness. And he sure as hell didn’t want to hear an upstart disparage the NYT.
I don’t know if I’ve ever truly considered myself a journalist, but watching that scene made me feel like I’d been doing everything wrong. Sure, Carr was empowered by his position at the New York Times, but he got there by being as tough and aggressive as seen here. His language may seem harsh, but it also sets a tone. So does the sharp tapping of his fingers against his keyboard as he’s jotting down notes. And any criticism of the institution he works for had better be legitimate or he’ll rip it to shreds. Once Carr shows he’ll punch back, the Vice crew is on its heels.
He sticks up for his paper and profession throughout the film, deftly taking down Markos Moulitsas, Michael Wolff and anyone else who suggests that the NYT is a relic that needs to make way for quick hit aggregators like Facebook and Newser. Carr also shows how tough reporting, persistence and great writing (as well as the support of fine editors) fuels a provocative series he wrote that took down the brash, misogynistic Sam Zell-Randy Michaels era of Chicago Tribune leadership.
What’s fascinating about Page One and Carr’s role in it is that the media landscape is almost literally shifting under his feet. WikiLeaks is a major news source. Twitter is becoming a phenomenon. The iPad is about to change how we consume news and viewed as a possible savior for newspapers and magazines. Yet Carr isn’t a stubborn dinosaur who refuses to adapt. He embraces what he doesn’t know, learning how important those innovations are, how to make them work for him.
We all looked to @carr2n to make sense of the media revolution & to contemplate the future. A future without him is terrible to contemplate.
— Brian Stelter (@brianstelter) February 13, 2015
Brian Stelter, now with CNN, was a protégé of Carr’s, but he also had plenty to teach his mentor about how news consumption was changing and the tools that helped them do their jobs better. (Stelter also loses 90 pounds during the course of the film, which is an intriguing sidebar to the story.) Carr jokes that the young Stelter is a robot sent from the future to destroy him, but it’s apparent how mutually beneficial their working relationship is. The fact that Stelter moved on five years later makes their scenes together more amusing.
Page One is streaming on Hulu Plus, if you subscribe. It just takes 90 minutes of your time. Other than reading the man’s work itself, there may be no better way to get an idea of why Carr meant so much to those he worked with and mentored — and even those who never met him, but consider him a huge influence and standard to follow in their work. But if you looked up to him, Carr would soon turn you around and prompt you to look ahead. There’s work to be done.
The New York Times and media landscape is a lesser place today without Carr making a contribution. His loss is a great one and will be felt for a long time to come. It seems especially bitter that he passed during a week in which his perspective was needed most, when Brian Williams was suspended and Jon Stewart decided to step away. But if Carr’s spirit lives on through friends, colleagues and admirers upholding the measure and ethic he applied to his life and work, then we’ll be all right.
“I now inhabit a life I don’t deserve, but we all walk this earth feeling we are frauds. The trick is to be grateful” -David Carr. The best.
— Andrew Ross Sorkin (@andrewrsorkin) February 13, 2015
