Buchwald,
the Humorist We Will Miss
By Dr. Syed Amir
Bethesda, MD
His column was carried regularly
for many years by Dawn, and he had developed a
fan club in Pakistan which eagerly awaited the
arrival of the newspaper to read his satirical
musings. Internationally renowned humorist, satirist,
Art Buchwald, died on January 17, 2007, at the
age of 81, at the home of his son in Washington
where he had lived for the past several years.
Buchwald grew up in poverty and spent his childhood
in several orphanages and foster homes in New
York as his father was unable to support the family
and his mother whom he never saw was confined
to a psychiatric asylum, suffering from mental
illness. His unhappy childhood experiences made
him vow at an early age that he would earn his
living by making others laugh, which he did admirably
for six decades of his life. He discovered early
in life that he could conquer his own depression
and loneliness by entertaining others. His daily
column was carried at its peak popularity by 550
newspapers in 100 different countries, including
Pakistan. In 1982, he received the Pulitzer Prize,
the highest literary honor in America in print
journalism for his satirical commentaries.
Art Buchwald even made light of his own impending
death as he waited early last year for it to take
him away. He had suffered a stroke some seven
years ago, and ever since his health had been
deteriorating, as he battled kidney failure and
poor circulation. His kidneys ceased to function
finally, but he refused to prolong his life by
dialysis treatment, to the dismay of his family
and physician. He was admitted last February to
Washington Community Hospices, a nursing home
where patients are brought to spend their remaining
days of life in comfort, free of pain. Buchwald,
however, was not quite ready to depart. His kidneys,
in a surprising development, rebounded and started
to function, at least partially, a marvel even
his doctors could not explain. He later commented
that “instead of undergoing dialysis, I
decided to enjoy life and see where it would take
me.” He subsequently characterized his living
experience in the hospice facility as the “best
time of my life.”
His doctors had predicted that he would not live
beyond a few weeks after he entered hospice, however,
he flourished, defying all odds, and soon felt
well enough to resume writing his weekly column,
often reflecting on his near death experiences.
He started to receive a parade of his admiring
friends, mostly rich and famous. Eventually, as
it became clear that he was nowhere near death,
he left the hospice and went on a vacation to
spend last summer at Cape Cod in Massachusetts.
Meanwhile, he worked on and completed his last
book, Too Soon to Say Goodbye, that came out in
November 2006, only three months before his death.
Buchwald in his last columns frequently joked
about his death which he had briefly dodged, remarking,
“Alas, the people who come to visit me now
look at me with great suspicion. They want to
know if the whole thing was a scam.” In
another of his columns he wrote “Things
that I had stopped caring about because I was
going to die, I now have to start caring about
again. I had to rewrite my living will, scrap
all the plans for my funeral. I also had to start
worrying about Bush again.” In promoting
his book on television, he joked that he had invited
leaders of all religious faiths to his funeral,
just to be sure to cover all bases.
Buchwald who became such a familiar name in satirical
journalism world-wide never finished high school;
he dropped out when he was seventeen, and joined
the US Marine Corp during the Second World War.
At the end of the war, he enrolled at university
again, but never completed the requirements of
a degree. This time, the major distraction was
Paris where he discovered his intrinsic talent
for humor writing. He started to write a regular
column about out-of-the-way spots and little known
facts about Paris’ glamorous night life,
which he explored extensively, under the title
“Paris after Dark,” in the New York
Herald Tribune, precursor of the International
Herald Tribune. His columns were also reproduced
by the parent newspaper in New York, making him
a celebrity on both sides of the Atlantic. Though
he loved Paris and stayed there a long time, he
never bothered to learn French.
Many fascinating tales are told about his journalistic
escapades. While a columnist in Paris, Buchwald
heard about the fairytale wedding of Prince Rainer
of Monaco and Grace Kelly of America to which
the entire aristocracy of Europe and America was
invited. Buchwald complained in his column that
the only reason he was not invited was that his
family and that of Prince Rainer’s had been
feuding for the past five-hundred years. Of course,
it was all a joke --Buchwald family had not been
noteworthy -- but the column caught the prince’s
attention, amusing him and igniting his curiosity.
Buchwald promptly received a personal invitation
for the wedding.
Of his more than 30 books, mostly collections
of his columns, the most successful was the memoir,
“I will always have Paris”, published
in 1996. It is replete with many funny anecdotes
of the times when the author met a galaxy of glitzy
luminaries, Hemingway, Picasso, Wells, and Audrey
Hepburn among them, drawn from the worlds of literature,
show-biz and entertainment. He also met his wife,
Ann McGarry, in Paris, and adopted three children
all of whom were the subjects of his funny writings
at some time or another. The children came from
three different countries, yet they became part
of an integrated, loving family. Appearances,
however, can be very deceptive. His outwardly
jovial demeanor aside, Buchwald suffered from
deep depression most of his life and was hospitalized
twice when the condition became severe. He never
attempted to disguise his problems, however, and
wrote very candidly about them. Modern medicine
came to his rescues and enabled him to function
normally.
In 1963, after 14 years in Paris, during which
Buchwald achieved fame and celebrity status, he
decided to return to the States where he became
a syndicated columnist for Washington Post. He
is estimated to have written over 8,000 columns
in his lifetime. Buchwald had a subtle, refined,
and gentle writing style; his humor was neither
scathing nor offensive. He rarely made personal
attacks on his subjects and never generated any
enemies. He, however, delighted in deflating the
ego of powerful politicians in a way that even
they were amused and ridiculed those ideas which
sounded dumb by creating imaginary scenarios.
His writings often evoked the soft humor and sharp
wit of a Pakistan satirist and journalist of long
ago. The readers of Ibne-Insha’s columns
which were carried weekly by the Jung in the sixties
and early seventies may find a great deal of similarities
in the writing styles of these two acclaimed humorists
— they were topical, tender and graceful,
without being vulgar or excessively transparent.
Sadly, Ibne-Insha died prematurely of cancer in
London almost thirty years ago.
All his life, Art Buchwald followed an unorthodox
life style. Unlike most celebrities, his name
was listed in the city’s telephone directly
accessible to anyone who wanted it. He established
a scholarship for a student of journalism who
was judged most disrespectful of authority. He
was a heavyset man, but spurned all advice of
friends and physicians to exercise; he hated it.
He was also excessively fond of smoking cigars
and eating rich pastries, habits that would be
characterized unhealthy and injurious to health.
Yet, somehow, he managed to survive for 81 long
years. During the final days of his life, a close
friend asked him what he was going to leave behind.
His answer was brief and crisp, “Joy.”
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