I have to admit, initially I was taken
aback by the outpouring of grievances across the country on the passing of
Roger Ebert. Unquestionably he is,
and has been for decades, our nation’s pre-eminent master of cinematic
journalism. What surprised me is
how many people really truly seemed
to care about his death. It’s as
though we have lost a Hemingway, a Picasso, an Einstein. This past Sunday night I stayed up for
over two hours, reading and watching tributes to Mr. Ebert. It all makes sense to me. We have lost one of our geniuses.
Now, why in a blog dedicated to
neighborhoods am I waxing poetic about the loss of a film critic? Because the more I thought about it,
the more I realized that beyond our day jobs, Roger and I share the exact same
passion. We are advocates for, and
lovers of, our city. Ebert could
have had any newspaper job on the planet.
With their proximity to abundant filmmaking, New York and Los Angeles
would have made more sense than Chicago.
Instead, the larger-than-life cinema guru chose to live here. Sure a whopping salary didn’t hurt, but
it’s not as though his writing hasn’t been in high demand for decades,
especially after winning the first-ever Pulitzer Prize for film criticism. I mean, does America’s second-most-read
critic, whomever that may be, have half the readership as Mr. Ebert and his
website?