Gladys Palast 1921 – 2018
My mom died Monday night. 96 years old. She lived a fierce and happy life in a horrible century. She said
My mom died Monday night. 96 years old. She lived a fierce and happy life in a horrible century. She said
Bob Parry has died. He was a giant. The reporter who uncovered the Iran-Contra scandal
Just before his eighty-ninth birthday, my father was watching a Viagra commercial on TV. It ends with the warning
In 1995, in Chicago, veterans of Silver Post No. 282 celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of their victory over Japan, marching around a catering hall wearing their old service caps, pins, ribbons and medals. My father sat at his table, silent. He did not wear his medals
Today, we lost a journalist’s journalist, the moral commander of investigative reporters from New York to Johannesburg
In 1930, when my father was an eight-year-old kid in Chicago, he asked his older brother why people were outside in the cold snow waiting in a long line. His brother Harold said, “It’s a bread line. They don’t have anything to eat
With the blood of cartoonists still fresh on the walls of Charlie Hebdo in France, I thought
I knew Mario Cuomo well. Too well. I helped write talking points for speeches that got him elected Governor
I can’t help feeling that Robin Williams was a victim of his industry: the happiness industry
Palast tells tales of undercover investigations, poetry, honey traps and why you stay the hell out of journalism school to Danny Schechter
I am pleased to announce my new association with Al Jazeera for a series of in-depth globe-spanning investigative reports. It is a great honor to join with journalists whose inestimable courage
By the age of fifteen, Rick Rowley was doomed – born in the middle of Nowhere, Michigan, a wasteland of rust and snow so awful we let autoworkers have it