Pulitzer Prize-winning Paul Greenberg, one of the most respected and honored commentators in America, is the editorial page editor of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette.
An exceptional craftsman, he gives readers an aesthetic as well as political experience and has evoked comparisons to H.L. Mencken and William Allen White. A thoughtful essayist who can also be a devastating critic, Greenberg describes himself as "an ideologically unreliable conservative."
Greenberg won the 1969 Pulitzer Prize for Editorial Writing and was a Pulitzer finalist in 1978 and 1986. Among his many other honors are the 1988 William Allen White Award, the 1988 Arkansas Associated Press Editorial Writing Award, the 1987 H.L. Mencken Award, the 1983 University of Missouri School of Journalism Medal of Honor, the American Society of Newspaper Editors' 1981 Distinguished Writing Award for Commentary, and the 1964 Grenville Clark Editorial Award. He also won two Walker Stone Awards, in 1985 and 1986.
Greenberg has been on the board of the National Conference of Editorial Writers and served as a Pulitzer jurist in 1984 and 1985. He is the author of the critically acclaimed "Resonant Lives: 50 Figures of Consequence" and "Entirely Personal."
Editorial page editor for the Pine Bluff Commercial in Arkansas from 1962 until 1992 – except for a hiatus as a Chicago Daily News editorial writer in 1966-67 – Greenberg lectures nationwide and regularly provides political analysis on Arkansas network television.
There are bishops and there are bishops. Indeed, the Diocese of Little Rock had four of them before a priest named Andrew McDonald came out of Savannah, Ga., to become the fifth, and Lord willing there will be many others to come after. Yet when people in these parts referred to the bishop, there was no doubt whom they meant.
It's enough to make a tear appear even on the usually stony face of Clio, muse of history, who you'd think would be used to having her works -- and their lessons -- ignored by now.
By the splittest of split decisions, by the narrowest and, yes, the most partisan and ideological differences of opinion, the Supreme Court of the United States has decided that our rulers may not decide the total amount an American may contribute to a political candidate, party or committee.
(With apologies to Poor Richard's Almanac -- and a colonial printer named Ben Franklin.)
My mother's yahrzeit came twice this year. Yahr-zeit: Literally, time of year. It's shorthand for the anniversary of a death in the family.
How might a captain's log of the good ship America read? The pages would surely include accounts of halcyon skies and smooth sailing, however turbulent the times seemed at the moment. As well as episodes of peril, even shipwreck, as the grand old lady was tossed and turned, even torn asunder. See 1861-65.
"I care not who writes a nation's laws," a sage once remarked, "but who writes its songs."
Asked to comment after a record number of women signed up to seek office on the Republican ticket this year in Arkansas, Joyce Elliott -- a Democratic state senator from Little Rock -- started off fine. She noted that young mothers tend to put off entering politics (not to mention other careers) till their children are older. That figures. Just ask anybody with little kids at home. They get priority, and need to. We all have our priorities, and children tend to change them. And how.
This exhibit at the Arkansas Arts Center, titled "The Crossroads of Memory: Carroll Cloar and the American South," is to run through Sunday, June 1, when the pictures come down. But they'll stay with you. Like the South.
She noticed. Talking about Moscow's not very disguised invasion of Crimea, Hillary Clinton made the obvious comparison with Hitler's seizure of one piece of Europe after another in the 1930s:
Ham and eggs, dictators and plebiscites, tyranny and sham elections, they all go together. So it was wholly to be expected, which means it was wholly a surprise to our ever-alert administration, when the latest tsar decided Crimea was ripe for the picking and sent in the Cossacks (sans identifying insignia for now).
Mark Pryor (Very D-Ark.) is this state's senior senator, and he should be thanked for making the choice in this fall's election for the U.S. Senate here in Arkansas more than crystal clear.
From the glamour and glitter of Sochi, you could almost see Kiev burning as the Ukrainians tried to escape the suffocating embrace of Mother Russia. To make the point, Tsar Vladimir chose this moment to hold maneuvers just across the border. When the Russians mobilize, war tends sure to follow, as during the First World Catastrophe. Now this latest tsar has chosen to invade Crimea, occupying its airport and other key points as the usual irregulars take over its parliament buildings. And the Russian flag is raised. Why pretend?
Not since the 1936 Olympics in Berlin has aggression been so glamorously presaged, the mailed fist wrapped in such a velveteen glove. Even the excuse for this barely concealed act of aggression is borrowed from the Nazi Anschluss with Austria: An oppressed people has appealed to the fatherland for protection. And it had responded by sending help to assure their rights. The statements out of the Kremlin these days sound like poor translations from the German.
I regret I never learned your name, but your language, heard from the back of a tour bus, remains a thing of curious beauty and a joy recurrently remembered.
It happens after every war. America disarms. And so invites the next attack, and next war. The same haphazard pattern is emerging now -- even before the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are over, much as this administration pretends they are in order to cut the defense budget.
You aren't just missed, absent friend. But remembered and consulted in memory. ("What would Richard Arnold have to say?") Not since Learned Hand had an American jurist been described as "the greatest judge never to have sat on the Supreme Court of the United States."
Pity the poor Congressional Budget Office, which is routinely identified as a nonpartisan source of information about the federal government's budget and maybe the statistical mysteries of economics in general.
Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. America, from border to border, coast to coast, and all the ships at sea. Let's go to press!
It was Darby Day in Fort Smith, Ark., one Friday this snowy month, and the students at Darby Junior High held their annual observance in honor of the school's namesake.