Bill Emerson, the legendary, larger-than-life former editor of the old Saturday Evening Post, died the other day in Atlanta, Ga. None of the obituaries– as entertaining as they are– mentioned that he lived in Larchmont for many years, and raised his family there. My late father, who was also a writer, loved the man with whom he socialized. I remember him telling me how funny Emerson was.
One of the death notices mentioned that Emerson, a southerner, had an ancestor who died at the Civil War battle of Peachtree Creek in 1864. I find that interesting since my great-great grandfather died at there, too: he was a federal artilleryman and an Irish immigrant.
Here’s a great excerpt from an obituary posted by grandforksherald.com:
“In columns, speeches and conversation, Emerson employed an antic, often salty humor to underscore points. Summing up his career, he once said, ‘When I’m a writer, I hate editors, and when I’m an editor I hate writers, and changing from one to the other is no worse than a sex-change operation.’ ”
That’s a saver.