Pulitzer Prize-winning national columnist Leonard Pitts Jr. is retiring and wrote his final column Tuesday: “Time flew, didn’t it? Now, it’s time for me to fly off, too.”
Pitts wrote, “I’ve written about 1.6 million words as a columnist. This 600 or so will be the last. [He started in newspapers in 1976; began writing columns in 1995; the Pulitzer came in 2004. Occasionally his columns produced death threats.]
I’m retiring for a few reasons. One is that, while I’ve managed to squeeze out four novels between column deadlines, my dream was always to write books full time. I turned 65 in October, so if not now, when?”
He added, “Another reason is that a column, for me, at least, is an act of emotional investment — and I’m emotionally exhausted. They say you know when it’s time. That’s true. And it is.”
More. Among his many ritual “thank yous”:
Thanks to Judi Smith. My former assistant retired in 2019, but still insists on proofreading the column. I will miss sparring with her over what does and does not constitute an extraneous comma. I wrote this, sentence just, for her. . . .
Tomorrow, I will wake up for the first time in 46 years without a deadline to meet. It’s going to feel strange. I’ve always considered this podium a great privilege: Everyone has an opinion, after all, but precious few get to have their voices magnified — much less be paid for it.
I tried to use that privilege to sound alarms about human rights, democracy, gun violence, the misinformation crisis and more.
The fight on all those fronts goes on. Nothing ends here, except my access to this megaphone. I’ll be teaching and, of course, writing novels from now on.
Which is fine. I’ve said pretty much all I had to say. Except for this: Isn’t it amazing how fast the years go? Turns out, time doesn’t really care if you’re having fun; it flies, regardless. . . .
Some random Leonard Pitts quotes:
“Not everyone has something to say. This will not stop them from saying it.”
“Whoever said the truth sets you free never told the truth.”
“You see, the thing is, we write our own eulogies. Someone else delivers it, yes, but each of us authors his own in the life he lives and the memories he leaves.”
“He fell into a stillness then, remembering clenched fists, and sit-ins, and pot smoke wafting on the breeze. And power to the people. And the hope, the abiding expectation, that things could be better, that you could, if you wanted it bad enough, if you worked for it hard enough, force this old world to change. Where did it all go? he wondered. When did it all change? When did we all get so small? . . . It wasn’t so long ago, explained Malcolm, that you and I wouldn’t have been here arguing over who was the bigger victim. It wasn’t so long ago that white guys just like you were putting themselves on the line, and even dying, because they knew that unless everybody was free, nobody was. I just wonder sometimes, how we got from people like that to people like you. . . . Small-minded people. Hateful, closed-minded, self-righteous, damned ignorant, and proud of it. We were not like that. And white people were not like that, when I was your age. . . . Yeah, he said, there was drugs and there was sex, but there was also vision. We had ambition, not for making money, but for making a difference.”
― Leonard Pitts Jr., Grant Park
“You think you’ve reached the bottom. Then you find out the bottom has a basement.”
― Leonard Pitts Jr., Before I Forget
“Trying to get stuff straight right at the end when you never cared all through your life. Trying to get into heaven on the affirmative action plan.”
― Leonard Pitts Jr., Before I Forget
“Then the ’60s had gotten angry. Those other ’60s, the later ’60s, were not about marching forward, but fighting back. Segregation, determination, demonstration, integration, aggravation, humiliation, obligation to the nation, they had exploded in a ball of confusion, riot, and rage that burned halfway through the next decade. And the band played on.”
― Leonard Pitts Jr., Grant Park
“Frank Turner, a news anchor with WXYZ-TV in Southfield, Michigan, recently wrote to say that blacks and whites discussing racism are “like a bear and a rabbit discussing a lion. Each views the lion from such a difference of perspective that it is difficult, if not impossible, for the bear to see the rabbit’s point of view. “The rabbit can certainly see the lion for the threat he is … the family members he has eaten and ravaged, the pain, fear and anger he has caused … The bear, however, having never been a victim of the lion, can’t understand why the rabbit doesn’t just pull himself up by his paw straps and get over it.”
―Leonard Pitts Jr., “Racism in America: Cultural Codes and Color Lines in the 21st Century”
John Cafferty had read the text of Lincoln’s inauguration address with his face congealed in a frown before passing the newspaper on to Jamie. “The man is a ditherer,” he complained, “begging the Southern states to turn from this foolish course they have set themselves on, plying them with promises to leave slavery alone if they would just consent to remain with the Union. The time for pleading with those people is over. Why not simply blockade their harbors, lay siege to their cities, stand up for right and do the Lord’s work without fear or compromise?” “He is not much,” Jamie had agreed, “but he is all we have.”
―-Leonard Pitts Jr., Freeman
“Asking a conservative pundit for advice on race is like asking an ayatollah for advice on preparing the Christmas ham.”
―- Leonard Pitts Jr., “Racism in America: Cultural Codes and Color Lines in the 21st Century