It is a weird thing to think about. Your life, distilled into about 800 words, printed on gray newsprint, and archived forever in a database that people will cite a hundred years from now. Most people assume that getting a New York Times obituary is just a matter of being famous enough or having a family member who knows how to write a good press release. Honestly? That is not even close to how it works. The "Gray Lady" has a very specific, almost monastic process for deciding who gets a write-up and who doesn't. It’s not about how much money you made or how many followers you had. It’s about whether you changed the world in a way that left a visible dent.
The obituary section of the Times is effectively the paper’s "desk of the dead." It’s a prestigious, competitive, and highly curated space. If you’ve ever scrolled through the digital landing page, you’ll see a mix of heads of state, avant-garde jazz musicians, and scientists who discovered a specific protein in the 1970s. There is a method to this apparent randomness.
The logic behind the New York Times obituary selection
How do they choose? It isn't a pay-to-play system. You can't buy an obituary in the Times editorial section; those are called "Paid Death Notices," and they are entirely different animals. A real New York Times obituary is written by a staff reporter, usually someone like Bill McDonald or Clay Risen, and it is considered a piece of news.
The editors look for "significance." But significance is a slippery word. It could mean you were the first woman to lead a Fortune 500 company, or it could mean you invented the plastic tab that keeps bread bags closed. They love "firsts." They love people who influenced a genre of art. If you were a mid-level politician who served three terms and didn't pass any landmark legislation, you might not make the cut. But if you were a local activist who started a movement that eventually changed federal law? Now you're talking.
The paper also tries to correct for history. For a long time, the obituaries were—let's be real—mostly about white men. In 2018, they launched a project called "Overlooked," which is basically an ongoing series of obituaries for Remarkable people who didn't get one when they died. This included people like Ida B. Wells and Sylvia Plath. It was a massive admission that their internal "significance" meter was biased for decades.
The "Advance" obituaries you didn't know existed
This is the part that creeps people out. The Times has a "morgue" (their library) filled with thousands of pre-written obituaries for people who are still very much alive.
If you are a former President, a world-famous actor, or a billionaire, there is a 99% chance your New York Times obituary is already written. It’s sitting in a digital folder, waiting for a date of death and a few final details. Reporters often interview the subjects of these advances years before they pass away. Imagine sitting down with a journalist to discuss your legacy while you’re still eating lunch. It’s a surreal part of the job for writers like Margalit Fox, who wrote some of the most famous advances in the paper's history.
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Sometimes, these advances sit for twenty years. Sometimes, the reporter who wrote the obituary dies before the subject does. When that happens, you’ll see a double byline or a note saying the piece was written by a former staffer. It’s a relay race against time.
Why the tone feels different than other papers
If you read an obit in a local paper, it’s often celebratory. It’s a tribute. A New York Times obituary is not a tribute. It is a news report.
They include the scandals. They include the failures. If a famous CEO dies but they were once caught in a massive embezzlement scheme, that scheme is going to be in the third or fourth paragraph. It’s about the full arc of a human life, not just the highlights reel. This is why families sometimes get upset with the Times. They want a eulogy, but the Times provides a biography.
The writing is also incredibly specific. You won't find many cliches like "he will be missed" or "gone but not forgotten." Instead, you’ll find sentences that describe the exact way a pianist hit a B-flat or the specific chemical reaction a scientist discovered. It’s deeply researched. They call the family, sure, but they also call rivals, historians, and former colleagues to get the "real" story.
The technicality of the "Lede"
The first sentence of a New York Times obituary is a masterclass in condensed information. It usually follows a strict formula: Name, age, cause of death (if known), location of death, and the primary reason they are famous.
Example: John Doe, a revolutionary architect who designed the glass-bottomed skyscrapers that redefined the Tokyo skyline, died on Tuesday at his home in Manhattan. He was 88. It’s efficient. It tells you exactly why you should keep reading. If the writer can't find a way to make that first sentence compelling, the person probably shouldn't be getting a Times obit in the first place.
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How to find an obituary (and why it’s harder than it looks)
Searching for an old New York Times obituary can be a bit of a nightmare if you don't know the tricks. The Times archive goes back to 1851.
- Use the Times Machine. This is their digital archive of every issue. If you are looking for someone from the 1920s, this is the only way to see the page as it actually appeared.
- Check the "Paid Death Notices." If you can't find a news obituary, search the paid section. These are the ones families submit. They are searchable but usually behind a different part of the site's paywall infrastructure.
- Use specific keywords. Instead of just searching a name, search "Obituary" + "Name" + "Year."
The digital era has changed things, too. In the old days, space was limited by the physical paper. Now, they can publish more obituaries online than they ever could in print. But they still maintain that "editorial gatekeeper" vibe. Just because there's unlimited digital space doesn't mean they've lowered their standards for who gets a write-up.
The social impact of the "Obit"
There is a certain "death status" associated with this. In some circles, your life isn't officially over until the Times says it is. It’s the final stamp of cultural relevance.
For many marginalized communities, seeing a New York Times obituary for one of their leaders is a form of validation. It says, "This person mattered to the world, not just to us." This is why the "Overlooked" series was so culturally significant—it wasn't just about the dead; it was about the living seeing themselves represented in the "official record" of history.
Common misconceptions about the process
People think you can lobby for an obit. You can try, but it usually backfires. Publicists will often send "pitch decks" for their clients’ obituaries. Most obit editors find this tacky.
Another big myth? That the Times only writes about "good" people. They write about villains, too. Dictators, serial killers, and corrupt politicians all get the Times treatment because they were significant. Again, it’s about the "dent" you left in the world, regardless of whether that dent was positive or negative.
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What to do if you are looking for a recent one
If a public figure just passed away, the New York Times obituary will usually go live on the website within hours—sometimes minutes if it was an "advance" that just needed a quick update. The print version usually appears the next day. If it’s a Sunday, the obit section is often tucked into the back of the front section or the Metro section depending on the edition.
Actionable steps for researchers and families
If you are a researcher or someone trying to understand the legacy of a specific person, there are better ways to use these archives than just reading the text.
- Cross-reference the "Survivors" section. At the end of every Times obit, they list the surviving family members. This is a goldmine for genealogists. It often includes maiden names and locations that you won't find anywhere else.
- Look for the "Correction" box. The Times is famous for its corrections. Sometimes the most interesting details about a person’s life come out in a correction published three days after the obituary because a reader called in to say, "Actually, he didn't win that award in 1964; he won it in 1965."
- Don't ignore the photos. The Times has access to one of the greatest photo archives in the world. Often, the photo they choose for an obituary is a rare candid shot rather than a standard headshot.
If you’re trying to get a news obituary for a loved one who was genuinely influential but perhaps not "famous" in the traditional sense, your best bet is to contact the "Obit Desk" directly with a very concise explanation of their historical or cultural significance. Don't send a life story. Send a "Why they mattered" bullet point. Mention the "firsts," the inventions, or the movements they started.
Ultimately, the New York Times obituary remains the gold standard of biographical journalism. It’s a strange, beautiful, and sometimes cold record of who we were and what we left behind. It’s not just a notice that someone died; it’s an argument for why they lived.
To find specific records, use the New York Times website’s built-in search tool but filter by "Section: Obituaries." This filters out mentions of the person in other news stories, which can often clutter your results if they were a public figure. For pre-1980 records, the "TimesMachine" is your best resource for viewing the original layout and surrounding context of the announcement.