Legendary New York newspaper columnist Jimmy Breslin died this weekend at the age of 88. Our Budd Mishkin did the following One-on-1 profile of Breslin in 2007.
Spending a day with Jimmy Breslin is like watching his column come to life. He is direct and opinionated — on any number of topics.
On being a good columnist:
"You shouldn't be comfortable unless everybody's against you," said Breslin. "Then you know you're right."
On his 1986 Pulitzer Prize:
"You know I don't need some college to validate my life and what I'm doing with a certificate," Breslin said. "The hell with them."
And on the Iraq war:
"If we lost as many cops as they lose in one week in Iraq, can you imagine the cops killed here? asked Breslin. "There'd be a riot."
Breslin is back writing columns for Newsday about Iraq and the 2008 Presidential election. But for much of the summer, he was asked about the 30th Anniversary of the Son of Sam murders, when Breslin famously received a letter from Son of Sam, David Berkowitz. But Breslin says he would never use a column to write about the past.
"It isn't news," he said. "If it's dead, it's dead. Let's go on to the next. Get something to tell people to look out for, what's going on in their lives. Now, they don't cover this war. They haven't covered this war since it's started. But they cover the funerals from 30 years ago."
Long ago, Breslin came out of the sports department, where the old adage is, "The more compelling story is almost always in the loser's locker room." He used a form of that when he started writing a column, by going where the others were not. In one of the most famous examples, Breslin wrote about John F. Kennedy's gravedigger on the day of his funeral.
"Well, when it was over, he smoothed the dirt around the grave and he looked at it and said, 'It's an honor to have done this,'" Breslin recalled. "And that was it. That was the day. But it was the only story about anything that wasn't just 'tears and measured strides followed the casket with the horsemen and all,' junk."
Breslin is also the author of 18 books. The latest: 'The Good Rat,' a lifetime of anecdotes about the world of gangsters. His most personal work is probably his 1997 memoir about his own brain surgery. 'I Want To Thank My Brain For Remembering Me.' Ever the reporter, Breslin said he sat in on 25 operations.
"They saw through the skull and then the whine, wow," Breslin said. "They got the guy’s head uncovered, all broken down," said Breslin. "There’s the brain and they pick on it like you’re picking on a freaking turkey dinner or something."
Breslin has put himself at risk to write some of his columns. First in south Vietnam during the war, then later getting assaulted and robbed during the Crown Heights riots in 1991. He said the key in these situations is the need to remember everything so that you can write it.
"It’s a great buffer against immediate fear or nervousness. The next day it isn’t. The next day you collapse," said Breslin. "How in the hell did I do that? I ought to be nuts."
How important is good writing to Jimmy Breslin? Prominent in his hallway is a family heirloom, some original writings by the Irish poet and dramatist, William Butler Yeats.
"It’s simple and it’s good," said Breslin. "It’s very good. You remember it when you read it. It’s very good. It’s Yeats, it’s the best, you’re not going to get any better than that. "
He grew up in the Richmond Hills/South Ozone Park section of Queens. His father left when Breslin was young. Generations of New York politicians and fat cats might have been happy if he’d pursued one of his earliest loves: the trumpet. But Breslin fell in love with newspapers, specifically, a baseball round-up column that he thought was written on the road.
"The dateline Boston. The next day would be Chicago. And I’d sit and I’d dream," said Breslin. "He’s riding a Pullman from Boston out to Chicago. Geez, what a life, and you cover the game and write about it. The greatest thing. He never left 42nd Street."
Early on at the Long Island Press, Breslin wrote obituaries. There were some growing pains, like one obit that confused the deceased with the man tending to the deceased.
"Eddie Gottlieb was the editor of the paper. He called over in the morning. He said, "Congratulations, young Breslin, you’re a professional newspaper person. You buried the undertaker," said Breslin.
He went to work at The Journal American, The Herald Tribune, The Post, The News, and Newsday. A newspaper lifer, but in 1969, fellow writer Norman Mailer ran for mayor and Breslin joined the ticket as a candidate for city council president. They ran on a platform of making New York City the 51st state.
"I had this book out, I had a book called 'The Gang That Couldn’t Shoot Straight,'" Breslin said. "It was doing huge and I could only help it. So I said, The hell. I’ll go with it. But Mailer got excited, he really wanted to do it."
Mailer and Breslin were soundly defeated. Then, Breslin almost became a movie star. He was considered for the lead role, the Gene Hackman character in 'The French Connection.'
"But I had a novel at that time, 'World Without End, Amen' that was my life’s blood," said Breslin. "And for anything, I didn’t want to give it up. It was a bestseller but more important than that, it eased any feeling in my stomach about not doing it."
When asked whether he respected the opinions of those who disagreed with him on the war, BresIin revealed his famous confidence in his own way of seeing things.
"No! Why you disagreed with me? Nobody," said Breslin. "I brook no disagreements, no. Why would they disagree with me? I’m right and they’re wrong. They’re wrong, I’m right. Who did that? Sid Caesar, that’s his game. No, I don’t know who disagrees, who disagrees with — nobody around here."
Through the years, his blunt style has occasionally gotten him in trouble. In 1990, Newsday suspended him. An Asian employee had sent an email in the office criticizing one of Breslin's columns about women. He reportedly responded in a profane way, using an ethnic slur. But Breslin claims he was taking a line out of one of his favorite books, 'Lord Jim.'
"When you yell out something, you yell out "cur." You know that line in 'Lord Jim?' I used that and they thought it was real," said Breslin. "So I can’t help them. Can’t they freaking read? That’s my line, I use it all the time anyway, I love it."
Breslin apologized but the paper suspended him for what it termed his lack of sensitivity after talking about the apology on the radio. He’s been married to the former city councilmember Ronnie Eldridge since 1982, after his first wife died in 1981. He has five children, his daughter Rosemary died 2004, and on the day of our interview, Breslin had just come from the funeral of a friend.
"I had a wife and daughter, both named Rosemary and both died the same way," said Breslin. I saw them both take their last breath and I don’t want to go anymore. That’s all. Over."
But what’s not over is his need to write, even at the hardest times. Always write.
"It’s a job, just do it," said Breslin. "Now if I knew how to write that I had a wife die, am I going to write something? Yeah. Yeah it bothers you, but write it."
After nearly 60 years as a writer, Breslin said it is still hard work.
"It still is hard," he said. "It never comes easy."