Standing in the church’s lobby just after the service, you hear a woman talking on her phone in a hushed tone, “It was beautiful. Even the sky cried.”
On a rainy Saturday (May 4), swaths of Dallas dignitaries descended on Oak Cliff, filing into Friendship-West Baptist Church to say a final goodbye to a champion of the Black press and Dallas Weekly publisher emeritus, James A. Washington. By happenstance, in just the next room over, there was another event taking place – one that, had James’s passing not summoned the masses, his presence would have called them to. On the same day that the Washington family would lay their patriarch to rest, Dallas County would head to the polls, deciding on a series of propositions, from council and school board members, to bonds and budgets.
Walking past the polls to the place wherein James Washington’s life was to be celebrated seemed to those who knew him best, fortuitous. A giant in journalism who not only encouraged, but at times, demanded civic engagement from those he worked to inform, the nexus of location and date chosen to send off the figurehead seemed ordained.
Dappling the pews were friends, family, and former employees, all feeling the great fortune to have known Mr. Washington in some way. The air hummed with a gentle murmur as people reminisced, sharing stories and laughter – a testament to the life they were there to celebrate. The memorial service was a vibrant outpouring of love and appreciation for a man who had touched countless lives. More a celebration than a somber service, the event opened with uplifting hymns and songs of praise and continued on with a delicate balance, lending the atmosphere to moments of both great joy and deep sadness.
James, a dedicated journalist, editor, and publisher for over 45 years, passed away on April 2, 2024. Cheryl Smith, the former Editor of the Dallas Weekly, would speak of James as a man of balance, gentle when needed, tough when necessary. “We’d go at it. I couldn’t believe some of the things I said to James, and he couldn’t believe some of the things he would say to me. But, we always got the story out.”

Born in McComb, MS in 1950, James’s natural gift as a communicator showed up early. Family members recalled how early he showed his ability to bend language to his will. Nurturing this gift, after relocating to Chicago for a stint and then finally landing in New Orleans, James would go on to attend Southern University in Baton Rouge where he earned his undergraduate degree in English and Instruction Media. James decided to continue his studies at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. A Woodrow Wilson Fellow, he earned a Master’s degree in Journalism and Public Relations.
Degrees in hand, James hit the ground running. His talent for language and a knack for sniffing out injustice quickly propelled him onto the national stage. Before long, James would begin to gain national recognition for his work in the industry and went on to become the news director at KALO radio in Little Rock, AR. Soon, he would take on his next challenge, moving to Dallas. In 1980, James and a former Southern University classmate formed Focus Communications and that entity would eventually purchase the Dallas Weekly. James went on to lead the Dallas Weekly to become the largest and most widely-read African American news weekly in North Texas, receiving awards from the National Newspaper Publishers Association, Dallas NAACP, the Dallas Black Chamber of Commerce and more.
The Dallas Weekly became known for tackling tough stories, because James wasn’t afraid to tackle powerful entities. According to Roland Martin, who worked for James as the Dallas Weekly’s Managing Editor, James was fearless in exposing what he felt needed to be unwrapped concerning local politics, environmental justice, major corporations, and human and civil rights. CEO of the Dallas Weekly and James’s daughter-in-law Jess Washington spoke of this fearlessness. “I was worried because I knew I would have big shoes to fill as the CEO. But I also realized that he got me ready. He taught me so much about how to lead and how to do it in a way that uplifts Black people and the Black press.”
In 2003, James became the president and general manager of the Atlanta Voice where he would lead the paper’s digital transformation. Here he would continue to serve in a leadership role and contribute to the Atlanta Voice and numerous other publications, often penning pieces about spirituality and faith. James’s later and more personal work would lead to a book deal. Soon he would write and publish “Spiritually Speaking: Reflections for & from a New Christian.”
Beyond his journalistic accolades, James was admired for his compassion and unwavering commitment to social justice. He used his platform to amplify the voices of the marginalized and empower communities to fight for change. Sherilyn K. Smith, former Dallas Weekly Director of Marketing, spoke of James’s willingness to empower others and to tell the stories that others wouldn’t have touched. “Mr. Washington gave me a chance. A girl from Pleasant Grove. I met Emmit Till’s mother and Rosa Parks because of him. He didn’t keep what he knew and what he saw to himself. He shared.”
The news of James’s passing sent shockwaves through the media industry. Tributes have poured in from colleagues, fellow journalists, and the countless individuals whose lives were impacted by his work. From Roland Martin to former Dallas Mayor Ron Kirk, James was spoken of as a man of courage, integrity, and a relentless pursuit of truth. Rev. Dr. Frederick D. Haynes, III, Senior Pastor of Friendship-West Baptist Church spoke of this relentless pursuit. “Journalists are watchdogs. James was Dallas’s watchdog. He kept watch and he held those accountable who needed to be. And then he became Atlanta’s North Star. Fixed. A guide. Our watchdog and our North Star. James Washington. Yeah, that’s it.”
Succeeded at the Dallas Weekly by his son and daughter-in-law, Patrick and Jessica Washington, James A. Washington leaves behind a legacy that spans several generations, publications and organizations.
