Remembering D.G. Martin

We are deeply saddened by the passing of D.G. Martin. In the tribute below, Executive Editor Lucas Church reflects on his time working with D.G. and the lasting impact he made on our local community. We extend our heartfelt condolences to his family, friends, and all who knew and loved him.

Our friend, author, and champion, D.G. Martin passed away on December 9, 2025. In addition to being an advocate for the public good, television show host, and author in his own right, D.G. was a fixture in Chapel Hill—you might see him at Sutton’s, or Flyleaf Books, or biking through UNC campus—and those travels extended to the UNC Press office. Not only was D.G. our supporter and cheerleader, but he was also a friendly face to all of us at the Press, popping by to grab some new books and to check in with his publishing friends. For that alone, he’ll be missed greatly. 

I had the great fortune of working with him on his Roadside Eateries books early in my career as an editor. We met countless times while we built the book from the ground up, and when we met, he’d talk about Harriet and the “kids,” sharing their stories with me, including me into his circle of friends. He loved seeing pictures of my daughter, keeping up with her almost as if she was one of his own grandchildren.   

One day, not long after the first edition of Roadside Eateries was published, I got up from my desk at the UNC Press office and found, to my very real surprise, author Charles Frazier standing in my doorway.  

“You’re Charles Frazier,” I said. He nodded in agreement that he was, in fact, Charles Frazier, author of Cold Mountain and other books. I was about to ask him what brought him to our office when D.G. appeared next to him, pushing Charles’ hand in mine, introducing us. 

This was typical of D.G., bringing his literary friends over to talk about books and publishing—he’d always ask me about new books I was working on—but it was also to make sure these writers knew that UNC Press was in their backyard, and that we are all better off being connected in this small world of books. D.G. was, in many ways, the glue that held literary North Carolina together. 

The last time I saw D.G., we ran into each other at a local restaurant—in hindsight, not a surprise. I could see that he’d become a bit older, a bit frailer than the last time we’d talked. He finally got to meet my daughter in person, after years of only photos to show her growing up. I’m grateful for that moment, and I like to think he was, too. 

I’ll miss seeing him on his bike in Chapel Hill, presumably on the way to meet with another friend for a chat over coffee at Sutton’s. Rest in peace, D.G. We will miss you.