Studs Terkel

For more than a half-century, Studs Terkel, who died on Oct. 31 at 96, had an ongoing conversation with America. This elfin-looking man, usually dressed in a red-plaid shirt, ventured out into the unfamiliar with tape recorder in hand and spoke with people whom he liked to call the etceteras of the world. In his presence, they mattered. He knew they had something to say--about race, about class, about work, about hope, about community. About America.

If you want to try to understand the perplexing character of this nation, turn to Working or Race, or any of Terkel's numerous other works. In each of them, the uncelebrated alongside the celebrated ponder what holds us together and what pushes us apart.

Terkel, who was often praised as the consummate listener, didn't just arrive at someone's front door and say, "Tell me about yourself." He carried on a conversation. Terkel didn't let people off the hook. In Division Street, a 19-year-old man who had left the hills of Kentucky for Chicago talks about his fear of living too close to blacks. "It doesn't bother me," he says, "as long as they stay on their side of the street." To which Terkel asks, "Suppose they're on the same side of the street?" You can almost hear the young man consider this for a moment before laughing at himself. "I imagine we might be able to be pious and get along pretty good," he replies. That was Terkel. His effervescence brought out the best in virtually everyone he encountered. His books brought out the best in America.

Kotlowitz is the author of the award-winning best seller There Are No Children Here