In Memoriam: Becca Cudmore, science writer

NYU's science journalism program has lost one of its most talented and brilliant alumni. I had the privilege of being one of her profs.

Teachers are not supposed to have “favorite” students, but of course we do—we just don’t talk about it except perhaps to friends or family. In the professional setting, it is pretty taboo. Over the years that I have taught journalism, at institutions including Boston University, New York University, and the City College of New York, I have certainly had students who were memorable. I am still friends and in touch with many of them.

I don’t think students often realize just how attached their instructors get to them, because we are not supposed to show those kinds of feelings. For one thing, they can be misunderstood; also, each of our students deserves our full attention and dedication no matter what we think of them personally. And it would probably come off pretty mushy if we teachers confided to our students that in many ways we, representing older generations, are living through them. We send them off into the world, secretly hoping that they will succeed where we have failed, that they will change the very imperfect societies we have left them to make their way in.

In the fall of 2013, an Oregonian named Becca Cudmore walked into my NYU classroom and, you might say, into my life. We immediately bonded because she was an anthropology student and I was an anthropology writer. But Becca was also, as her fellow students and her other profs would soon find out, very talented, and—no small thing—a warm and wonderful person. And so she became, that year, one of my favorite students in my entire teaching career.

I feel free to say that now, because she is gone. Becca died earlier this month, from a terribly debilitating disease called autoimmune encephalitis, which left her unable to walk, unable to write, and barely able to talk. As Becca’s family put it in a note to Dan Fagin, director of NYU’s Science, Health, and Environmental Reporting Program (SHERP), "this tormenting disease robbed Becca of all she loved, the art and skill of communication, before finally taking her from us."

And so we have lost a great science communicator, a great writer, a great friend to many.

Dan described Becca well in the Facebook post in which he announced her death to all of us “SHERPIES” —

What will stick with me most about Becca is that she never stopped thinking about the big questions: What is the highest purpose of environmental journalism? How can we reach people who aren't already convinced that these issues matter? How do we prioritize all life, not just the most charismatic species? Over the years, we spoke about all of these and more. But even as she worried about big philosophical questions, she never stopped doing the day-to-day work of storytelling -- until her illness finally forced her to.

Up until the pandemic I was in touch with Becca often, and would have lunch with her when she visited New York. Looking at my inbox, I see that our last contact was in June 2020, when she asked me to write her a letter of recommendation for her application to a new science communication program at the University of Oregon. Here is part of what I said in that letter:

Becca was a student in my graduate workshop at NYU during the fall 2013 semester. She immediately distinguished herself as a writer and journalist capable of translating complex scientific concepts for a broad readership. One very good example was her performance on the workshop’s most difficult assignment, what we called a “controversy” story designed to examine a scientific debate in a balanced and insightful way. Becca wrote about the debate over whether or not animals have personalities, and the extent to which we humans tend to anthropomorphize traits we see in animals—a tendency that could influence scientific analysis of the question. With numerous and colorful examples, Becca provided a lively and engaging survey of this field of research.

Becca also showed her versatility as a writer and journalist in the final assignment of the semester, which requires the students to profile a subject involved in the sciences in some way. Becca decided to profile the science cartoonist Sidney Harris, a very imaginative choice. I was impressed by the way she brought her subject to life in print, evoking his colorful personality and his style of working during an interview in his studio.

Given Becca’s early show of promise as a science writer, it was no surprise to any of us at NYU when a piece she wrote for Nautilus, entitled “The Case for Leaving City Rats Alone,” was selected for the 2017 edition of The Best American Science and Nature Writing.

In the letter, I mentioned one of the most ambitious pieces Becca did in my class, about whether or not animals have personalities. We published that story on the program’s online magazine at the end of the semester. I learned a lot working with Becca on the article, because I knew little about the subject beforehand (the amount of science I have learned from my students over the years is immeasurable, and I am sure that is true of all my colleagues in these programs.)

When, near the beginning of the pandemic, my wife and I decided to get a couple of cats to keep us company in our isolation, it immediately became clear that they had markedly different personalities, and I don’t think it’s anthropomorphizing to say so (although I would have been very interested in Becca’s opinion.) Whenever these differences were on display, I would mention Becca’s piece to my wife, who politely refrained from telling me that I had said that a number of times before.

Becca’s story starts off with an anecdote about Muffin, a huge cat with what appeared to its owner at least to be a lot of personality. Looking back at our email exchanges about the story as I edited the two or three required drafts, I see this message from Becca:

Oh one thing I did want to check in on! Hansen claims that her 40 pound Muffin is the heaviest cat in the world... I did a little Google searching and indeed, could not find any cats weighing over 38 lbs. Is this a stat I can include in the piece or do I need to see Muffin in person to make such a claim?

Becca was a great science writer, but also ended up being an excellent journalist as shown by her concern for accuracy. Would that all journalists be so conscientious! I responded:

Well, Muffin is really a prop or character in your story, so just say that her owner claims she is the heaviest cat in the world and leave it at that. This will actually add to the humor you use so well in the piece.

Becca’s love for animals would inform her writing for the rest of her tragically short life. If readers are interested in her legacy, you can find many of her great pieces here.

As readers of this newsletter know, I have become very disillusioned with science journalism of late, feeling that it has largely failed to fairly and adequately cover the critically important Covid origins debate. This feeling follows on from other disappointments in recent years with science journalism and science journalists, which I have discussed in other venues and will not elaborate on here.

But we need science journalists and science writers, and we really needed Becca to carry on. We will be so much poorer without her.

* * *

Update Dec 22: Dan Fagin, director of the NYU SHERP program, has posted one of Becca’s most beautiful stories on Facebook. You can read it here.