In the vibrant city of New Orleans, the unique voice of journalist Don Lee Keith was silenced in July of 2003. A man of considerable height, often seen in his signature 'City Editor' look of pastel button-down shirts, dark suspenders, and cowboy boots, Keith was a colorful and irreverent figure in the city's journalism scene. His passing was not the result of violence and therefore prompted no investigation for suspects or arrests; rather, he succumbed to heart disease, a battle hinted at by
the profuse sweating he often endured in the New Orleans heat.
For seven years, Keith had been the journalist-in-residence at the University of New Orleans, a role he filled with a bohemian and academic flair that was both eccentric and charming. He was a teacher whose lessons were drawn not from textbooks but from his forty-one years of experience in the field. His teaching style was as unique as his attire, marked by frequent cursing, saucy anecdotes, and brutally honest critiques of his students' work. This approach, while earning him some complaints, also garnered a loyal following of students who saw him as a mentor, often following him around campus for extra instruction and writing for the college newspaper at his encouragement.
Keith's wit was as sharp as his journalistic instincts. Upon his appointment as 'Journalist-in-Residence,' he quipped, 'Does that mean they're going to give me a cot and a hotplate?' It was this kind of humor, combined with his dedication to his craft and his students, that solidified his reputation as a beloved, if sometimes troublesome, fixture in the New Orleans literary world. His death left a void in the city's journalistic and academic communities, the loss of a truly original voice.
