Last Writes: Evolution of the Average Obituary
How the process to tell a final life story has changed, and how my late ex-husband — a newspaperman who wrote many obituaries — never really got his own
My ex-husband died more than one year ago, and I am still waiting to read the obituary.
Michael John Hill of tiny Gardner, Illinois, devoted his life to words, which makes the omission of this unassigned life story both sad and ironic. He was a 42-year newspaper reporter and editor who worked for dailies in Illinois, Indiana, Wisconsin, Kentucky, Nevada, Georgia, Florida and Louisiana.
We began our newspaper careers during an era when everyone who died got some type of published acknowledgment that they existed. Obituary writing was a newsroom responsibility, typically assigned to a cub reporter because the daily exercise was little more than phone dictation from a funeral director.
"Every editor I ever worked for on the city desk in those early days made it clear that a reporter has to respect the dead."
It was a fine way to drive home the importance of accuracy and clarity. Those who typed these often-final written words about a person's life also got the angry calls from grief-stricken relatives when errors of fact or spelling occurred.
As retired newsman George Hesselberg, author of "Dead Lines: Slices of Life from the Obit Beat," writes in his book's introduction: "Every editor I ever worked for on the city desk in those early days made it clear that a reporter has to respect the dead. In an obit, you get only one chance to get it right."
We're talking decades before online portals made it easy to update text with a few quick keystrokes.
This-was-your-life stories of everyday people were formulaic in content and crafted as part of a funeral home's basic services. Many newspapers, especially those with a smaller readership, printed obituaries free of charge.
The logic: A death — any death — was newsworthy. The more prominent the person or public the circumstances, the bigger the news. So word of a death might turn into a front-page article as well as an obituary page write-up.
At minimum, the deceased would be mentioned in my newspaper's death notices, a just-the-facts line with the name and date, based on the filing of death certificates. Retrieval of that information from the county courthouse was a part of my first newspaper job; we'd also publish concise but complete lists of divorce decrees, wedding licenses and forfeitures issued.
What Changed?
Printed newspapers have fewer pages today, and more publishers see obits as a reliable revenue stream, one that helps offset dwindling retail (grocers to boutiques) and classified (garage sales to real estate) advertising accounts.
The longer an obituary, the larger the charge to publish it in a media outlet.
Obituary writing remains part of the typical funeral home's basic service fee, but restrictions on content and length have loosened. The longer an obituary, the larger the charge to publish it in a media outlet. Survivors will likely pay per published inch, line or word for a newspaper obituary.
Obituary cost in Madison's Wisconsin State Journal, for example, begins at $142.50. Then it's an additional $1.20 or $1.40 per word (depending on day of publication) and $75 per photo.
Chicago-based Legacy.com, whose online obituaries are seen by 40 million users per month, figures the average obituary costs under $100 to $800, depending on length of text and the newspaper's circulation.
"That's for an obituary that includes plenty of identifying information but doesn't get too eloquent or detailed beyond those basics," Legacy.com states, adding that a longer, more personalized approach might cost up to $2,000 in a large metro area.
Families avoid these higher costs by submitting a succinct announcement (John Doe died peacefully at his home on Nov. 1, 2024. A full obituary and celebration of life plans are pending at thisfuneralhome.com.), then posting details on the funeral home's website. The same information can circulate through social media.
From Facts to Story
What I remember as disciplined, just-the-basic-facts, unemotional writing has evolved into more creative, heartfelt and sometimes long-winded essays to describe and honor a person at life's end.
"Every life has a story and the obituary is the opportunity to tell that story and establish a permanent record."
Matt Baskerville of Reeves and Baskerville Funeral Homes, southwest of Chicago, says "telling the deceased's story" remains an important part of his job. "Every life has a story," he says, "and the obituary is the opportunity to tell that story and establish a permanent record."
The technical evolution of obituary publishing, during Baskerville's career, began with phone calls to newspapers, then faxes, emails and "now basically do-it-yourself through online portals."
He says "many obituaries have gone viral due to their blunt nature and comedic elements."
Legacy.com partners with funeral homes and news providers to bring print obituaries online and contends "standard obituary style remained fairly unchanged" during the second half of the last century.
Norms shifted after two major events:
The New York Times produced nearly 3,000 short, personal accounts of each life lost during Sept. 11 terrorist attacks in 2001.
The enormity of losses and lifestyle restrictions during the COVID pandemic challenged presumptions about death and grief traditions.
Casket or cremation? Funeral service or celebration of life? Public or private? Now, next month or a year from now? Maybe never?
Spreading the Last Word
End-of-life planning — be it through hospice services, a funeral home, church or death doula — might well include encouragement and guidance for a terminally ill patient to write their own obituary.
Baskerville says artificial intelligence (AI) is lending more of a hand in obituary writing too.
"Several software companies and vendors are offering platforms that incorporate AI to assist funeral professionals and family to write obituaries," he noticed, during the 2024 National Funeral Directors Association conference.
"Service and merchandise providers offer customized print products to incorporate merchandise with obituaries — such as stationary and memorial keepsakes."
When a public figure dies, media outlets still consider it news, worthy of editorial time and space. Harder to find are media that pay attention to ordinary public records, and some of that data — such as death certificates — is harder to access.
Which brings us back to my ex-husband, whose next-of-kin shared word of his death only verbally.
Mike Hill died of natural causes, at home in Louisiana, three years after retiring — but you won't find his death mentioned anywhere official online. That includes newspaper archives.
How to confirm that he died? Death certificates are kept confidential in Louisiana, but the Lafourche Clerk of Court's office found a way to assist: Staff verified Mike was removed from voter registration rolls last year because he is dead.
Who Gets the Final Word?
I shared news of Mike's passing through a private Facebook group for former newspaper journalists, an effective way to reach his former colleagues nationwide.
Better, though, was the 600-word essay that he wrote to make that same group aware of his retirement in 2019. He began with this:
"- 30 -
"That means the end of the story in old-school newspaper lingo when reporters turned in their stories from a typewriter. And it is 30 for me today."
He went on to thank people who helped him become a better journalist and recounted career highlights. Such as:
"I've been told that I may be one of the last of those who worked their entire professional life in newspapers, which are dying off now. For those people who turn out the lights, I wish you the best. My heart is with you."
"I interviewed Geraldine Ferraro, the first woman on a presidential ticket, and made her laugh. I quickly left that interview in 1984 and got waived through lots of red traffic lights in Milwaukee by police/Secret Service who seemed horrified I entered their perimeter.
"Eunice Kennedy Shriver, the founder of the Special Olympics and JFK's sister, and I were together alone in a hotel room before I interviewed her. Her daughter Maria Shriver (pre-Arnold Schwarzenegger) was hosting the "Today Show" for the first time that day and she wanted me to watch it with her. She treated me like she was my aunt and asked me "How do you think Maria did, Mike?" I said she was great.
"Peter Frampton put up with me, Don McLean didn't like me asking about the meaning of "American Pie," presidential candidates Jesse Jackson and Bob Dole shook my hand. I saw Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter in Washington before grabbing a surprised Henry Kissinger's hand to shake it.
"I interviewed Joey Bishop, of the Las Vegas Rat Pack, the day Dean Martin died. I got what I needed, but he told me 'This interview isn't done until I said it is.' "
And he ended with this:
"I've been told that I may be one of the last of those who worked their entire professional life in newspapers, which are dying off now," he wrote. "For those people who turn out the lights, I wish you the best. My heart is with you."
I guess Mike wrote his own obituary, and he may well have been amused by the lack of easy evidence that confirms his demise. He was a guy with a wry sense of humor, an appreciation for the absurd and thousands of bylines that remain for eternity.
