This is from the MediaChannel.org newsletter. The link is broken, but I wanted to share:

I am not sure how many readers from outside New York know the name Jimmy Breslin, the dean of all newspaper columnists here in Gotham. He’s a writer’s writer, a populist with a pen and a tongue that has slayed many a bad guy and corrupt pol in many years of columnizing. Yesterday, Jimmy was delivering a funeral tribute to Jack Newfield, the crusading journalist who died Monday night.

That funeral drew the A-List and, shall we say, very Jack — in fact, it was his final production. He planned it himself. It began with Bob Marley singing Redemption song, segued into remarks by Mario Cuomo, prize fighters, ex FBI agents, fellow journos, a trumpet solo by Wynton Marsalis and remarks by Breslin. He recounted how Jack has stood for every thing the status quo didn’t and told of his many years of opposing the Vietnam War,

He mused on how sad it was for Jack to go while the war on Iraq raged, and then turned his blistering polemical power on two Senators from New York, Schumer and Clinton who voted for it and Mayor Bloomberg who has yet to say what he thinks about it. You could hear a pin drop. Bloomberg was sitting up front. Staring. He said nothing. What could you say? Breslin was fire and brimstone and Newfield’s spirit floated around the room. It went on for over two hours and I could have listened for two more.

Jack was a conscience of New York journalism, and a presence in the lives of many. I seem to remember a song back in his SDS days which parodied his overtly political style and wordsmithing with a chorus that included the words “Tom Hayden is Albert Camus, I’m Jack Newfield, who are you.”

In fact, Jack meant more to more people than he realized. He was a mentor to many and mensch even to those he couldn’t stand. He loved boxing on the tube and in the Garden and boxing for real with avaricious landlords and abusive nursing home operators. His was a voice we will miss in this era of corporatized media. He liked to eat big meals. And beat up on people he thought were and are doing us all wrong.

Newfield had a way with words. He once called me “The Duke Ellington of Chaos.” I was offended at the time, but realize he was on to something. He used to answer the phone “Jack Newfield here.” To everyone packed into that funeral home today, he is still here.