In April, Burt Cohen wrote his last column for Mpls.St.Paul Magazine, a publication he started in 1978 after purchasing what was then the struggling Mpls. magazine.
In it, Cohen listed what he described as his “semi-notable qualities”: “I never used profanity, never exercised, rarely ate green leafy veggies or any healthy foods, adored carbs and fried foods, cried at even slightly sad movies, tried to never be cruel or hurtful to anyone including animals, always silently gave thanks for blessings, and was aware of and grateful for the countless people who helped me at every stage of my life.”
Cohen described the final version of his monthly “Cohen Report” as the last of approximately 12,500 columns he’d written starting when he was given a mimeograph machine for his 12th birthday, continuing when he worked at the school paper at Southwest High School in Minneapolis, in the Army, at the University of Minnesota and finally at Mpls.St.Paul Magazine.
But actually, Cohen had one more column left in him: his obituary.
“Burton ‘Burt’ Cohen died on May 10, 2025. He was 94½ and overweight. He was given plenty of advance notice of his imminent death, but his lifelong habit of procrastination meant he didn’t write this obituary until pretty much the last minute, thereby sacrificing fact checking, proofreading and style. Readers please note,” Cohen wrote of himself with his characteristic self-deprecating sense of humor.
He wrote that he died “not of flabbiness, as had been widely predicted, but of advanced aortic stenosis, after choosing to reject the surgical procedure that would have corrected the problem.”
He said the surgery would have delayed the inevitable “like putting a new set of tires on an old jalopy.”
Cohen, who was born and spent most of his life in Minneapolis, was a graduate of the University of Minnesota School of Journalism and Mass Communication.