Carr was, among other things, the author of The Night of the Gun, his 2008 memoir about hitting rock, rock bottom before recovering and eventually becoming a columnist for the New York Times.
He was also a 1974 alumnus of my high school in suburban Minneapolis:
It was assumed that I would go to Benilde High School, a suburban all-boys Catholic school where my older brothers had gone. We were expected to work summers and pay half the tuition. I caddied at a Jewish country club, came up with my share, and hated nearly every second of it. Benilde had the same triumvirate that existed in every high school at the time: jocks, nerds, and freaks. I self-assigned to the freaks.
As I remember it, Benilde-St. Margaret's, as it came to be known by the time I arrived for my junior year in 1974 (it merged with a girls' school after Carr graduated), was divided into "burnouts," of which I assume Carr was one, and "straights," which included me (surprised?). So it's just as well we never met; I kind of doubt Carr would have liked me -- he was cool and I wasn't. (I did know his cousin, though -- a little.)
I once emailed Carr to tell him how much I enjoyed his writing. And to my surprise he actually answered me, briefly, something on the order of "Gee, thanks Mike." (I read later that Carr answered almost all his emails.) I tried to engage him further but heard nothing more. Like I said, he was cool and I wasn't. I just hope he didn't think I was stalking him.