Archive for the ‘Obits’ Category

Obit watch: September 17, 2025.

Wednesday, September 17th, 2025

For the historical record, Robert Redford: THR. NYT. LAT. Park Record. IMDB.

NYT obit for Pat Crowley (archived). (Previously.)

John Penton, one of the pioneers of off-road motorcycle riding.

Traveling home from Mexico in late 1958, he rode nonstop from California to Ohio, prompting one of his brothers to challenge him to try to break the transcontinental motorcycle record, riding from New York to Los Angeles.
At 5:59 a.m. on June 8, 1959, Mr. Penton set out from New York City on a 35-horsepower BMW R69S, outfitted with an oversize gas tank and a fender rack to hold rain gear and candy bars. To officially record his progress, he carried Western Union letterhead that he got stamped at tollbooths along the route.
In St. Louis, a cycling group, including two police officers, was expecting him and provided an escort through the city, offering him two ham sandwiches and two cups of milk, according to the podcast We Went Fast.
Mr. Penton intended to stop only to refuel. But by the time he reached Flagstaff, Ariz., he was exhausted and seeing double. So he set two alarm clocks and slept for an hour, then hit the road again.
On June 10, he arrived at the Western Union office in downtown Los Angeles at 8:10 a.m., having traveled 3,051 miles. His official time — 52 hours, 11 minutes, 1 second — broke the previous record by over 25 hours. Mr. Penton’s record stood for nine years.

In the late 1940s, Mr. Penton began to realize that smaller, more agile off-road motorcycles could outperform heavier, unwieldy roadster models like Harleys, Triumphs and Indians. By the 1960s, he was determined to design a bike that would not have to be modified for off-road use.
In 1967, while in Europe competing in a six-day team endurance event that is considered the Olympics of off-road racing, he paid $6,000 to the Austrian company KTM, a manufacturer of bicycles and mopeds, to build a prototype for a design he called the Penton.
The first Pentons were delivered in 1968; the 125cc model weighed 185 pounds, about half the weight of some bikes that Mr. Penton had ridden. The Penton came with innovations like a folding gearshift lever to prevent the bike from being caught on rocks and in muddy ruts, and an air-filter system that enhanced water resistance to keep the engine running smoothly.
“Our claim to fame,” Jack Penton said, “was that it was ready to perform at the highest level just as you bought it” — no modifications needed.
In 1978, Mr. Penton sold his distributorship to KTM, which rebranded the motorcycle with its company name. By then, more than 25,000 Penton motorcycles had been sold in the United States, according to the American Motorcyclist Association.

Obit watch: September 16, 2025.

Tuesday, September 16th, 2025

In keeping with the policy of this blog, I’m going to wait until tomorrow to post the Robert Redford obits. By then, any corrections and additions should be in place and the final versions should be up.

Patricia Crowley, actress. Other credits include “Today’s F.B.I.”, “The Bold Ones: The New Doctors”, “The Rockford Files”, “Columbo”, and the good “Hawaii Five-O”.

Patrick McGovern. His obit is relevant to my interests:

Bespectacled, bearded and more professorial in appearance than the Indiana Jones character that Harrison Ford played onscreen, Dr. McGovern used modern scientific methods, including multiple forms of spectrometry, to identify biomarkers in the residue in primitive drinking vessels.
“When analyzing something, I work from a minuscule amount of chemical, botanical and archaeological data,” he told National Geographic magazine in 2016. “I look for principal ingredients: Does it have a grain? A fruit? An herb?”
One of his discoveries, found in shards of pottery dating back 9,000 years to a Neolithic village in China, was believed to be the oldest alcoholic beverage in the world — a mix of fermented rice, honey and hawthorn fruit, a red berry.
Another was the world’s oldest grape wine, dating to 6,000-5,800 B.C. in Georgia’s South Caucasus region.
And from 157 bronze vessels left behind in the tomb of King Midas in Turkey, Dr. McGovern identified a beverage made of barley beer, grape wine and honey mead. Given the proximity of the drinkware to the king’s body, the concoction was probably passed around during his funerary feast, as at an Irish wake.

Dr. McGovern was sometimes asked which came first: bread or beer?
“You need food to exist,” he said. “But if you want to have a good time,” he added, “if you want social lubrication, if you want to up your sexual relations and so produce more children, then alcoholic beverages help.”

Obit watch: September 12, 2025.

Friday, September 12th, 2025

Salli Sachse, actress. Other credits include “The Million Eyes of Sumuru” (which we watched in the MST3K Season 13 version), “Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine”, “The Wild Weird World of Dr. Goldfoot”, and…

…her final credit before she retired in 1969 is an episode of “Mannix”. (“The Girl Who Came in with the Tide”, season 2, episode 17.)

June Wilkinson.

A pinup queen as well as a screen temptress, Ms. Wilkinson carved out a thriving side career posing topless in men’s magazines with titles like Girl Watcher and Fling Festival. She also became something of a mascot for Playboy, appearing in the magazine seven times (although never as a Playmate of the Month centerfold).

Inevitably, she was a magnet for the breast-obsessed director Russ Meyer, who photographed her for the magazine and was intent on casting her in his 1959 sexploitation comedy, “The Immoral Mr. Teas.”
Because she was signed to a different production company, Ms. Wilkinson was not contractually allowed to appear in the film. Even so, her bare breasts did, visible in a torso-only window shot in an uncredited appearance she made as a favor to the director. Keen-eyed aficionados of her form were not fooled, she later observed: “I guess breasts are like fingerprints; there are no two alike.”

Obit watch: September 11, 2025.

Thursday, September 11th, 2025

I feel like everyone is aware of Charlie Kirk. For the historical record, here’s an archived version of the NYT obit.

I don’t mean to give the man short shrift, but I also really have nothing of significance to add.

Polly Holliday. She had a considerable body of work in theater in addition to her TV and movie work. THR. NYPost.

Other credits include “Gremlins”, “Homicide: Life on the Street”, and “All the President’s Men”.

I got to wondering about this yesterday, and then a short time later someone else asked me the same question: is anybody from “Alice” still alive?

Linda Lavin, Vic Tayback, Beth Howland, and Philip McKeon are all dead. But Diane Ladd, who replaced Polly Holiday for (roughly) the season after she left, is still alive. (She was also “Flo” in “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore”.) Celia Weston, who replaced Diane Ladd, is also still alive.

Obit watch: September 9, 2025.

Tuesday, September 9th, 2025

Christoph von Dohnanyi, conductor and a good Cleveland boy.

A German of Hungarian extraction, Mr. Dohnanyi (pronounced DOKH-nahn-yee) served as Cleveland’s music director from 1984 to 2002, during which time the orchestra was widely described as one of the foremost in the world. At his death, he was the ensemble’s music director laureate.

Mr. Dohnanyi was esteemed for his meticulous, unfussy interpretations; fealty to composers’ intent; and broad historical compass. He was associated in particular with the music of Germanic composers — his Brahms was especially admired — and he was also an ardent champion of 20th-century repertoire, a notoriously hard sell for contemporary American audiences.

Founded in 1918, the Cleveland Orchestra is the youngest of the so-called Big Five — the cohort of high-wattage American ensembles that also includes the Boston and Chicago symphonies, the New York Philharmonic and the Philadelphia Orchestra. Mr. Dohnanyi was only the sixth music director to serve in Cleveland, succeeding Lorin Maazel, who had in turn succeeded Szell, whose masterful, iron-fisted quarter-century tenure was considered chiefly responsible for the orchestra’s impeccable sheen, precision and transparency.
Mr. Dohnanyi was widely credited with having restored that sheen, which many reviewers described as having coarsened during the Maazel years. He was also lauded for his tightly disciplined yet strikingly democratic control of the orchestra’s musicians, among the most skilled in the world: “this Rolls-Royce of orchestras,” he called the ensemble.
Under his stewardship, the Cleveland Orchestra attracted younger audience members, recorded prolifically and commissioned new works from the German composer Matthias Pintscher, the Finnish composer Magnus Lindberg and the American Philip Glass, among many others.

Rick Davies, of Supertramp.

Mark Volman, of the Turtles.

Tom Shipley, of Brewer & Shipley.

Ruth Paine, historical footnote. She rented her home in suburban Dallas to Marina Oswald and her husband, Lee Harvey Oswald.

Dr. David Baltimore, Nobel prize winning biologist.

Dr. Baltimore was only 37 when he made his Nobel-winning discovery, upending what was called the central dogma, which stated that information in cells flowed in only one direction — from DNA to RNA to the synthesis of proteins. Dr. Baltimore showed that information can also flow in the reverse direction, from RNA to DNA. The key was finding a viral enzyme, called a transcriptase, that reversed the process.
The discovery led to an understanding of retroviruses and viruses, including H.I.V., that use this enzyme. Today, gene therapies with disabled retroviruses are used to insert good genes into patients’ DNA to correct genetic diseases.

…a decade after his Nobel, Dr. Baltimore found himself ensnared in a scandal and the subject of attacks that tested his resolve and resilience.
It began when a postdoctoral fellow, Margot O’Toole, accused a researcher, Thereza Imanishi-Kari, of misreporting data in a paper that was published in the journal Cell. Dr. Baltimore was an author of that paper, although the work was not done in his lab.
The case escalated, with investigations by the National Institutes of Health and the Secret Service, which conducted a forensic study of Dr. Imanishi-Kari’s notebooks. There were also contentious hearings led by the Michigan Democrat John Dingell Jr., who was chairman of the House Energy and Commerce Committee. As a Nobel laureate, Dr. Baltimore became fodder for the case; he held his ground, standing up to Mr. Dingell in hearings and insisting that there had been no fraud…
Dr. Baltimore and Dr. Imanishi-Kari were finally vindicated in 1996, when an appeals panel found the accusations of fraud unfounded. But, Dr. Baltimore said, the case had taken its toll.
“I will never be able to forget it,” he said in an interview at the time. He said he had kept all the front-page New York Times articles about the accusations in his basement, unread, hoping someday to have the stomach to look at them.

Jacques Charrier. I want to make an argument that he was the luckiest man in the world. He was a huge movie star in France in the late 1950s.

…Mr. Charrier gained custody of their son, and the onetime movie idol began a slow slide into obscurity. He acted in over a dozen films through the 1960s and ’70s, including several directed by Claude Chabrol and one by Jean-Luc Godard (“Anticipation, ou l’Amour en l’An 2000,” 1967). But he quit the movie business after a 1975 film he produced (but did not act in) — “Il Pleut sur Santiago,” centered on the 1973 coup in Chile — bombed. (The film, which starred Jean-Louis Trintignant, was spoiled by its “didacticism,” Le Monde wrote.)

So why was he lucky? He married Brigitte Bardot. Then again, he may not have been that lucky: Ms. Bardot does not come across well in the obituary.

Their unhappiness was intensified by Ms. Bardot’s pregnancy — “nine nightmarish months,” she wrote in her 1996 memoir, “Initiales B.B.” She made it clear then and afterward that the birth of her only child, Nicolas-Jacques Charrier, was deeply unwelcome. She would have preferred “giving birth to a dog,” she wrote.

Mr. Charrier had been discreetly out of the public eye for nearly three decades when Ms. Bardot published her memoirs, which included a section viciously attacking him as a bourgeois loser, a freeloader and an egotist. As for her son, she wrote, when he was presented to her at his birth, “I started to cry, begging that he be taken off of me.”

Obit watch: September 5, 2025.

Friday, September 5th, 2025

I think these obits are interesting for various reasons, but some of them I’m only going to cover briefly.

Edgar Feuchtwanger, Adolf Hitler’x neighbor in Munich during the 1930s. Across the street, not next door. His family was forced out of Germany in 1939.

There are limits to what I am willing to subject my readers to, which is why I am not embedding “Heil Honey I’m Home!” here.

Robert Jay Lifton, psychiatrist and author. (The Nazi Doctors: Medical Killing and the Psychology of Genocide, Destroying the World to Save It: Aum Shinrikyo, Apocalyptic Violence, and the New Global Terrorism).

Steve Hayden, advertising guy. He wrote the Apple “1984” commercial.

Patrick Hemingway, Ernest Hemingway’s second son (by Pauline Pfeiffer). He was 97.

I think everyone knows about my policy on obits for children of celebrities, but Patrick had an interesting life (as you might expect). He ran a safari compnay in Tanganyika, finished his dad’s True at First Light, and taught at the College of African Wildlife Management.

He was Hemingway’s last surviving child.

Obit watch: September 2, 2025.

Tuesday, September 2nd, 2025

Graham Greene, actor. I’ve never seen “Dances With Wolves” but Lawrence has it and is threatening to bring it out for the next movie night. NYT (archived).

Other credits include “Wind River”, “Atlantic Rim”, and “Shattered City: The Halifax Explosion” (which I’d really like to see).

Joe Bugner, boxer.

In 1971, he won a controversial victory on points over his countryman Henry Cooper, a widely popular figure, gaining the British, the British Commonwealth and the European heavyweight titles. Cooper went into retirement afterward, and Bugner was left to deal with a less than adoring British public.

He’s perhaps more famous for fighting Ali twice and Frazier once.

On Feb. 14, 1973, in a 12-rounder against Ali in Las Vegas, Bugner sustained a cut over his left eye in the opening round. But he remained on his feet while losing a unanimous decision. There were no knockdowns. Bugner left with respect from the crowd and from Ali.
The New York Times reported that Ali, who had predicted a seventh-round knockout, said afterward of Bugner, a former sparring partner: “He’s a little better than I thought. I didn’t know his legs were so good. He’s three times better than when I sparred with him through the years.”
Less than five months later, on July 2, Bugner fought Frazier in a 12-round bout in London. It was Frazier’s first fight since losing his heavyweight title to George Foreman in January 1973. Charging ahead in the 10th round, Frazier knocked Bugner down for a nine count, but Bugner recovered and staggered Frazier before the bell, closing his left eye.
Frazier won on points, but The Times said that the decision “may have done more for his opponent’s reputation than for his.”

Bugner met Ali again on July 1, 1975, this time for a 15-round championship fight in the wilting morning heat of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Both fighters survived the conditions, but Ali won convincingly “with the ease of assaulting a statue,” Dave Anderson of The Times reported.
Bugner acknowledged that he had lacked energy in the heat and humidity. Afterward, he grew irritated with journalists’ probing questions and, according to The Telegraph, declared: “Get me Jesus Christ! I’ll fight him tomorrow!”
To which Hugh McIlvanney, a veteran British boxing reporter, replied, “Ah Joe, you’re only saying that ’cause you know he’s got bad hands.”

Gene Espy. He was the second person to “thru-hike” (make the whole trip in one continuous hike) the Appalachian Trail.

It took Mr. Espy 123 days to complete his journey, which started at Mount Oglethorpe in Georgia and took him through 14 states along the world’s longest continuous hiking-only footpath. Back then, the Appalachian Trail was mainly rugged wilderness, with few trail markers. He walked through parts of the trail where few others had ventured.
“I’d carry a map in my hat,” he was quoted as saying in 1993 by The News and Observer of Raleigh, N.C. “Every so often, I would stop and take my hat off, pull out my map, look around and try to figure out where I was.”
He averaged about 16 miles a day, but sometimes walked more than 30 on his way to Mount Katahdin in Maine, the northern terminus of the trail, which he reached on Sept. 30, 1951.

He bought a used backpack from an Army surplus store, hiking shoes from L.L. Bean, a canvas tent and a rain poncho. He carried a Boy Scout knife, cooking utensils, a miner’s carbide lamp and two canteens, one for water and the other for gasoline to fuel his tiny stove. His meals included dehydrated mashed potatoes and boiled cornmeal with sugar, raisins and powdered milk.

Mr. Espy’s former home in Macon became a mecca to fans seeking his advice.
“They brought their packs to our house and asked what they would need,” his wife, Eugenia (Bass) Espy, said in an interview. “He always said they were bringing too much and would say, ‘You don’t need this, you don’t need that.’ He tried to explain that you only should carry the essentials and keep the pack as light as you can.”

One day in 1965, Mr. Espy and his daughters were hiking on the trail in Georgia.
“We heard this crashing in the woods and this scruffy man came at us,” Ms. Gilsinger recalled. “He looked at us and said, ‘Gene Espy!’ And my father said, ‘Earl Shaffer!’ He was really depleted physically, and we took him into town, got him supplies and perked him up.”

(Earl Shaffer was the first person to thru-hike the trail. He passed away in 2002.)

Obit watch: August 30, 2025.

Saturday, August 30th, 2025

It never fails. As soon as I say I can’t find an obit, the paper of record publishes one.

NYT obit for Randall “Duke” Cunningham.

I feel very conflicted about this. On the one hand, I have a lot of respect for people who served honorably in the military. Especially fighter pilots, and especially fighter aces.

On the other hand, Mr. Cunningham’s crimes were sleazy and stupid.

He pleaded guilty in federal court in 2005 to tax evasion and conspiracy to commit bribery. Among the favors he accepted from defense contractors were a Rolls-Royce, free rent on a live-aboard yacht, the Duke-Stir, moored on the Potomac River, and a sweetheart sale of his San Diego County home for nearly $1 million above market value.

On the gripping hand, it seems like this was a pattern for him. Wikipedia cites sources that say he was nearly court-martialed for breaking into his CO’s office. And it seems like the whole “Colonel Toon”/”Colonel Tomb” story was fabricated by Cunningham.

Floyd Levine, actor. Other credits include “Manimal”, “The Master”, “Mrs. Columbo” and “Columbo: Murder in Malibu”, “Braddock: Missing in Action III”, and “Angel III: The Final Chapter”.

Frank Price, movie executive. He was in charge at Columbia twice, and also at different times ran Universal’s television and movie divisions.

During Mr. Price’s five years there, Columbia released hits like the comedies “Stir Crazy” (1980), starring Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor; “Tootsie” (1982), with Dustin Hoffman as an out-of-work actor who finds success only by impersonating a woman; and “Ghostbusters” (1984), with Bill Murray and Dan Aykroyd. Another major film under his watch was “Gandhi” (1982), with Ben Kingsley as the Indian leader Mahatma Gandhi; it won eight Oscars, including for best picture and best actor.
But Mr. Price was said to have refused to make “E.T. the Extraterrestrial,” Steven Spielberg’s science fiction story about a fragile alien lost on Earth, because of studio research saying that it would appeal only to children. The decision proved to be one of the biggest blunders in Hollywood history: “E.T.” went on to break box-office records.

“It’s hard for someone like Price to confront the fact that ‘Tootsie’ doesn’t make up for six bad films,” Mr. [Fay] Vincent told Kim Masters and Nancy Griffin for their 1996 book, “Hit and Run: How Jon Peters and Peter Guber Took Sony for a Ride in Hollywood.”

I don’t know. I personally think that one big hit can make up for six bad films: if you keep costs under control, which is something Hollywood seems to be bad at. Then again, as William Goldman used to say about Hollywood, “Nobody knows anything…… Not one person in the entire motion picture field knows for a certainty what’s going to work. Every time out it’s a guess and, if you’re lucky, an educated one.”

Obit watch: August 29, 2025.

Friday, August 29th, 2025

I know I’m drawing heavily from the NYT, but that’s where the interesting obits are today.

Jim Murray. He was the general manager of the Philadelphia Eagles from 1974 until 1983, including during their Super Bowl run in 1981. But that’s not what I think is notable.

The first facility opened in Philadelphia in 1974, the year Mr. Murray became, at 36, the National Football League’s youngest general manager. The daughter of Fred Hill, a tight end with the Eagles, had been diagnosed with leukemia. The team raised money for her; Mr. Murray was delegated to prolong the giving by looking for a related charitable cause.
He found a local pediatric oncologist, Dr. Audrey Evans, who told him that the most pressing need was to provide accommodation for families who brought their sick children to a hospital and often had to sleep in the corridor or in their cars.
Mr. Murray understood immediately. “He saw the way they were struggling and said, ‘We have to figure something out,’” his godson, the Philadelphia sports broadcaster Rob Ellis, said in an interview. “Then the idea bloomed and progressed. It started with the motivation to help his player.”

Know your stuff. Be a man. Look after your people.

Mr. Murray reached out to a Philadelphia advertising executive who handled the region’s McDonald’s account. Local McDonald’s restaurants agreed to donate money from a promotional drink — the Shamrock Shake — as long as the house could be named after the company’s emblematic clown.
The first Ronald McDonald House opened on Oct. 15, 1974, at 4032 Spruce Street in Philadelphia. There was room for seven families. Mr. Murray took to calling it the “McMiracle.”

Joan Mellen, biographer. She wrote 25 books about all sorts of subjects (Japanese film, the JFK assassination) but I wanted to highlight her because…one of her biographies was about Bobby Knight.

In early 1987, the irascible and authoritarian college basketball coach Bobby Knight called Temple University looking for Joan Mellen…
Mr. Knight was fuming about “A Season on the Brink,” a recent best-selling biography by the sportswriter John Feinstein that portrayed him as vulgar, sexist and out of control. Professor Mellen had just reviewed the book for The St. Petersburg Times, faulting it for misunderstanding its subject.
“Knight is, above all, a teacher,” she wrote. “Aggressively he gives his all. In this he is no different from the dedicated English or math teacher. The basketball players, like all students, are recalcitrant. They fight against learning. Knight’s advantage over other teachers lies in his access and control.”
On the phone, Mr. Knight was charming.
“You’re a professor of literature?” Professor Mellen later recalled him asking her. “I just wanted to tell you I really liked what you wrote.”
Professor Mellen began compulsively watching his games. She arranged to write a profile of him for The New York Times, which she later expanded into a best seller of her own: “Bob Knight: His Own Man.”

Bob Knight: His Own Man was negatively reviewed by many people, some of whom saw it as a shot across the bow of Mr. Feinstein. One of those people was Rick Telander in the New York Times Book Review.

Professor Mellen’s response was vintage Professor Mellen.
She castigated The Times in a letter to the editor, saying that Mr. Telander should not have reviewed her book because he worked for Sports Illustrated, which had published several negative articles about Mr. Knight. He was among the writers who had criticized the coach.
“Such breaches of journalistic ethics on the part of some sportswriters are a central theme of my book,” Professor Mellen wrote. “My focus, however, was Mr. Knight as a teacher, a topic not touched upon once by Mr. Telander, who is obviously adhering to some other agenda.”
The Times published an Editors’ Note saying that Mr. Telander should not have been chosen to review the book.

A.K. Best, fly tying guy.

Mr. Best was renowned for his mastery of the meticulous art of professional fly tying. He produced nearly weightless artificial lures that mimicked the midges, caddisflies and other bugs that fish eat; his specialty was dry flies, which float on the water’s surface.

Mr. Best also wrote books and magazine articles, spoke at seminars and made instructional videos with the professorial tone of a pipe-smoking teacher, which he had been. (Pipe smoke helped keep the mosquitoes away while he fished.) Fly Fisherman magazine said, in a tribute after his death, that he “shaped the soul of modern fly fishing.”
For hours at a time, Mr. Best sat in his basement workshop in Boulder, using a vise, pliers, tweezers, a toothbrush, sprigs of feathers and other tools of the trade. He made the wings and tails of insect replicas by hand, for personal use and at a commercial pace of roughly 40 lures an hour and 36,000 a year for companies like Orvis, Umpqua Feather Merchants and Urban Angler. He was said to have attached a shoulder rest to his phone so he could keep tying while taking a call.
As he worked, he listened to classical music and jazz, accompaniment that dated to his earlier career as a music teacher and high school band director. He considered the precision required for tying flies similar to the exactitude of creating music.
“There’s no such thing as an unimportant detail in music,” Mr. Best told The Gazette of Colorado Springs in 2024. “The composer put that dot on the paper with an ink pen for a specific reason. Just like when you look at a picture of an insect, every dot is important.”

His great skill was creating flies of a size and color that appeared natural, rather than store-bought, using the knowledge that no adult aquatic insects have fuzzy bodies; that flies should appear shiny and waxy, not translucent; that hair from a white-tailed deer could be used if elk hair was not available.
“You don’t need a fly so big you’re going to scare the hell out of a fish,” he said in a 2015 interview for the Montana State University Angling Oral History Project. In the same interview, he said, “If it’s the right color and floats, it’ll catch fish.”

There’s a Montana State University Angling Oral History Project? Awesome! President Trump, I want some of my tax money going there, please.

We fished some when I was a child, by which I mean we dangled lines in the water from fishing poles. I’ve never been fly fishing, but I find myself becoming more interested in both the sport itself and the literature surrounding it as I get older. Callahan and Company has fly fishing and angling books as one of their specialties, so I see a lot of fly fishing literature advertised in their catalogs. Much of it sounds fascinating.

I am seeing reports (especially from McThag) that Randall “Duke” Cunningham, Navy ace, former Congressman, and convicted and pardoned felon, has passed away. But I don’t have anything I can link yet.

Burning in Hell watch: Tran Trong Duyet, chief warden of the Hanoi Hilton.

Obit watch: August 28, 2025.

Thursday, August 28th, 2025

Pat Moore, long-time server at P.J. Clarke’s in New York City.

This is one of those not-so-famous person obits that the paper does well. She was named “Miss Fordham” in her first year at the school and signed to a modeling contract with the Ford Modeling Agency.

The Fords booked her on fashion shoots and in ads for perfume, coffee, mouthwash, crackers, brassieres, cigars and whiskey. “If I can’t have Ambassador I don’t drink Scotch” reads the copy on one print ad from the 1960s. Ms. Moore wears a slinky black cocktail dress and stares into the camera with the cool self-possession of a Bronx girl who knows what she wants.

She also had an interesting personal life, especially after she started working at P.J. Clarke’s.

As a teenager, Ms. Moore had been the president of the local chapter of the Perry Como Fan Club, invited into the studio to watch Como rehearse. An appreciation for smooth Italian American crooners would be a refrain in her life. After her divorce, she dated both Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett, though whether the two men overlapped is unclear to her friends.
“The way I heard it was, when Sinatra would come in, Tony Bennett wasn’t allowed to come in the restaurant,” Michael DeFonzo, the chef for the company that owns all five of the P.J. Clarke’s locations (three in Manhattan), said in an interview. “I would always press her about it, and she would say, ‘Stop it.’ She never gave up the truth.”

Everyone agrees, though, that both men came to see her at P.J. Clarke’s, and Mr. Bennett was still frequenting the restaurant decades later. If it was her birthday, he brought flowers. If he wanted to take her out for a drink, he would wait in his car at the curb until the end of her shift. If he was hungry, he would take a seat in her section.

Few of her colleagues knew about the portrait of her that hung in her bedroom — painted, Mr. Watts said, by Mr. Bennett. Nor did she readily pose for pictures, with the result that no photographs of Ms. Moore hang on the walls of the restaurant where she spent half her life.

That’s the other reason I wanted to post this obit. David J. Schow, noted horror writer, wrote a story called “Red Light” that won a World Fantasy Award in 1987. The premise of the story involves a successful model that comes to believe, every time someone takes a picture of her, they’re stripping away pieces of her.

It’s a kind of subtle, not really splatterpunk, horror story. I commend it to your attention, if you can find it. And I wonder if Ms. Moore ever felt the same way.

Obit watch: August 27th, 2025.

Wednesday, August 27th, 2025

Playing catch-up after returning from my trip:

Ens. Donald McPherson (US Navy – ret.) He was 103. National WWII Museum.

I love the NYT opening:

On April 6, 1945, during the Battle of Okinawa in the final months of World War II, a 22-year-old Navy ensign, Donald McPherson, was piloting a Hellcat fighter with “Death N’ Destruction” painted on the side.
As his squadron, the VF-83, joined an aerial assault on the island of Kikaijima, between Okinawa and mainland Japan, Mr. McPherson spotted Japanese dive-bombers rushing toward him from below. He lowered the nose of his Hellcat and fired, notching his first hit before positioning himself behind a second enemy plane.
“By using full throttle, my Hellcat responded well, and I squeezed the trigger, and it exploded,” he said, referring to the enemy plane, in an interview for Fagen Fighters WWII Museum in Granite Falls, Minn. “Then I turned and did a lot of violent maneuvering to try to get out of there without getting shot down.”

Also, I love Hellcats. Ens. McPherson shot down three kamikazes attacking the USS Ingraham in a subsequent engagement, making him an ace.

Although he never flew a plane again, Mr. McPherson was reintroduced to the F6F Hellcat when Fagen Fighters museum — which restores, displays and flies World War II-era planes — refurbished a similar one in 2021, soliciting his approval to paint it navy blue, the color of his plane, and adding the “Death N’ Destruction” motto. He reacquainted himself with the aircraft in person that year when it was flown to a ceremony at an airport in Beatrice, Neb.
At a 2022 event at the Fagen Fighters museum, Mr. McPherson said, “You people just can’t believe what all this has meant to me. That beautiful airplane.”
With a smile, he asked Evan Fagen, the museum’s chief pilot, “Can I take it home with me?”

The National WWII Museum and other reports I’ve seen refer to him as the last surviving WWII ace. The NYT obit seems to hedge that a bit by referring to him as “one of the last surviving American combat pilots from World War II recognized by the American Fighter Aces Association as combat aces”.

He received three Distinguished Flying Crosses and four Air Medals, and was awarded a Congressional Gold Medal in 2015.

Humpy Wheeler, NASCAR guy. I probably would have let this go past if it wasn’t for this:

…he transformed race day into a carnival. With his taste for Hollywood-level stunts, he might just as easily have been called the Cecil B. DeMille of motorsports. The clowns, trapeze artists, elephants and tigers he brought in to perform in the speedway’s infield in 1980 were only a start.
He once collaborated with the 82nd Airborne Division, garrisoned in Fort Bragg, N.C., to restage the U.S.-led 1983 invasion of the Caribbean nation of Grenada, complete with wood fortifications, troops and helicopters.
“The mortars were blanks,” the sportswriter Tommy Tomlinson recalled in a recent post on Substack, “but the dynamite that blew up two houses placed on the infield was very real.”

David Ketchum, actor. IMDB.

Theodore Friedman, lawyer. I think this is an interesting story. He was a personal injury specialist, and known as a zealous advocate for his clients.

Maybe a little too zealous, as he was disbarred in 1994.

Mr. Friedman’s disbarment exposed an underside to his turn-it-to-11 style of lawyering. Accused of 23 counts of professional misconduct — including intentional dishonesty, filing a false affidavit and soliciting false testimony from a witness — he lost his law license after a special referee affirmed 14 of the charges. He was disbarred by the Appellate Division of the First Department, a state court that oversees civil and criminal appeals in Manhattan and the Bronx.
His disbarment was seen by some in the legal community as unfair, by others as a comeuppance for sleaze, and by still others as a cautionary tale about the limits of overzealous advocacy.

He reapplied for his license several times, and was ultimately reinstated to the bar in 2010.

Ron Turcotte, jockey. He was most famous as the jockey who Secretariat to the Triple Crown.

Secretariat, a big coppery chestnut nicknamed Big Red who, like Riva Ridge, was owned by Penny Chenery of Meadow Stable and trained by Lucien Laurin, made up for that disappointment in spectacular fashion. He powered to victory in the Derby and the Preakness, setting track records that still stand. He then demolished the competition in the Belmont Stakes to become the first Triple Crown winner since Citation in 1948.
Secretariat’s Belmont remains one of the most celebrated performances in racing history. Under Turcotte’s supremely confident handling, he cruised by the competition on the backstretch, “moving like a tremendous machine” in the famous race call by Chic Anderson, then drew off to win by an astounding 31 lengths. He broke the track record set by Gallant Man in 1957 by just under three seconds — the equivalent of 13 lengths — and set a new world record for the mile-and-a-half distance on the dirt, one that still stands and has never been approached.

Obit watch: August 18, 2025.

Monday, August 18th, 2025

Terence Stamp. THR. Tributes.

Other credits include “Big Eyes”, “The Limey”, “Bowfinger”, and “The Hit”.

Dan Tana, who ran one of those famous LA hangouts for the stars (until he sold it in 2009). NYT (archived).

Dobrivoje Tanasijević was born on May 26, 1935, in Cibutkovica, a small town outside Belgrade, where he grew up. His father, Radojko, was a restaurateur. His mother, Lenka (Miloseviv) Tanasijevic, resourcefully kept the family afloat during World War II, when Radojko was arrested. He was considered an ally of the old ruling classes by the Yugoslav Communists, and he wound up becoming an accountant at one of the restaurants he had owned.
In the early 1950s, Dan, still a teenager, was on the farm team of Red Star Belgrade, a professional soccer club. The team traveled to Belgium, where he got into a fight with the chaperone. He and a couple of friends promptly defected.

Regulars during the 1970s described a particularly rowdy era: the musician Nils Lofgren serenading strangers with an accordion while high on acid; a fight between an agent and a producer over a third man’s wife that left enduring blood stains on the restaurant’s carpeted floor.
“Our best clients are the regulars who come at least once or twice a week,” Mr. Susser told The New York Times in 2005. “Even a studio chief might not get a booth at the last minute if they haven’t been in for a while.”

The restaurant’s hipness depended somehow on its orthodoxy. The interior and the menu remained locked in midcentury America’s imagination of an Italian restaurant — including after a fire in 1980, when customers pleaded with Mr. Tana to exactly replicate the old saloon, and after Mr. Tana sold it to a friend in 2009.

The average experience of a night at Tana’s went something like this:
You walked under a green awning into a space so dark your eyes took a second to adjust. The décor was repeatedly described as “bordello red”: red Naugahyde booths, red-and-white checked tablecloths, red Christmas-tree lights on the ceiling and, everywhere, mounds of marinara sauce.
Your table, lit by candlelight, would generally occupy a dark, recessed corner. Your waiter would not be the Los Angeles archetype — a beautiful but incompetent aspiring young actor — but instead, dressed in black bow tie, a professional, courteous gentleman from the former Yugoslavia.
Mr. Tana himself, though frequently attending to his international soccer interests in London or Belgrade, where he had homes, might also stop by your table to greet you. He had an athlete’s build — six feet tall, broad shouldered — but also the sophistication of a confident speaker of Russian, German, French, Italian, English and Serbo-Croatian.
“His manners are old world: He is one of the few men who can carry off kissing a woman’s hand,” Los Angeles magazine reported in 1997. “He does it swiftly, smoothly and without hesitation, the same way he lights your cigarette.”

Ronnie Rondell, stuntman. He has a pretty massive body of credits, but would be known to many people as “the guy on fire on the cover of Pink Floyd’s ‘Wish You Were Here'”. He also did stunt work on “The Night Stalker”, “To Live and Die in L.A.”, and one of the movies based on a minor SF TV series from the 1960s.

On May 23, 1969, Mr. Rondell married Mary Smith in Palm Springs, Calif. The couple had two sons, R.A. Rondell and Reid Rondell. Both children became involved in the stunt industry.
In 1985, Reid Rondell, 22, was killed when his helicopter crashed during the filming of the CBS television series “Airwolf.” A producer, Donald Bellisario, informed Mr. Rondell of the death, according to a news report at the time. “He was obviously broken up by it, but he told me, ‘You know, it goes with the territory,’” Mr. Bellisario said.

Tristan Rogers, actor. Other credits include “Cover Up“, “Mancuso, FBI”, “Delgo“, and “Fast Track”.

Jules Witcover, political columnist and reporter.

From the days of manual typewriters to the age of laptop computers, Mr. Witcover interpreted America’s political scene as an analyst and eyewitness to history. He swapped tales with presidents; covered presidential campaigns, beginning in 1960; recorded the rise and fall of Richard M. Nixon; and was steps away when a gunman killed Senator Robert F. Kennedy in a Los Angeles hotel in 1968.
Mr. Witcover’s column, “Politics Today,” written five days a week for years with Jack Germond, appeared in The Washington Star from 1977 to 1981, when The Star folded. It then ran in The Baltimore Sun and up to 140 other papers from 1981 to 2005, when it was terminated in a cutback, and was later syndicated three times a week by Tribune Media Services. Mr. Germond died in 2013, but Mr. Witcover continued writing it until he retired in 2022.

He was featured in “The Boys on the Bus,” Timothy Crouse’s 1973 book about pack campaign journalism, the old road show of poker games, pounding typewriters and all-night boozing. He fit right in, but he was one of the heavyweights.
“Witcover was deadly serious about his craft,” Mr. Crouse wrote. “He had given a great deal of thought to his own role as a political journalist, and was extraordinarily sensitive to the role that the whole press corps played, to its problems and failings.”

Obit watch: August 15, 2025.

Friday, August 15th, 2025

Gerry Spence, legendary lawyer and author. He was 96.

Among the people he defended or represented: Karen Silkwood.

She had died in 1974 in a car crash on her way to talk to a reporter about flaws in safety practices in the production of plutonium at a Kerr-McGee plant in Oklahoma, where she had worked and become contaminated. Representing her family in their suit claiming negligence, Mr. Spence won $10.5 million in damages. (The case was later settled for $1.38 million — about $6.6 million today.)

Randy Weaver.

While rejecting Mr. Weaver’s racist beliefs, Mr. Spence argued that his client had acted in self-defense and raised doubts about whose bullet had killed the agent. The jury acquitted Mr. Weaver of all major charges but convicted him of failing to appear at a 1991 weapons trial. He was sentenced to time served; Mr. Spence did not appeal.

Imelda Marcos.

The 1990 New York racketeering trial of Mrs. Marcos made headlines for months. Prosecutors produced thousands of pages of bank records, telexes, receipts, memos, contracts and reports, calling them a trail of thievery. But Mr. Spence broke through with simplicity, calling his client “a lonely widow” and “a small, fragile woman” whose only crime was being “a world-class shopper.” She was found innocent.

Mr. Spence often boasted that he had never lost a criminal case with a jury trial, as either a defense lawyer or a prosecutor, and that he had not lost a civil case since 1969. That was not actually true, but it was not far off. He was known to lose now and then, and several of his notable civil verdicts were overturned on appeal.
But in the tradition of Perry Mason, he seemed unbeatable — not only to courtroom foes but also to lawyers who attended his seminars, and to Americans who read his best-selling books and tuned in to his television programs and network commentaries, most notably on the O.J. Simpson murder case.

I remember seeing a “60 Minutes” profile of him some years back. I can’t find that now, but there’s a two-part interview with him on the ‘Tube.

Masaoki Sen. He was 102.

Mr. Sen was best known for serving as the 15th-generation grand master of the Urasenke, one of the three main schools of Japan’s tea ceremony. After inheriting the role from his father in 1964, he used it as a platform to promote peace, often while speaking of his own experiences during the war.
Traveling the world to engage in a sort of tea-ceremony diplomacy, Mr. Sen used the ancient art, whose roots lie in Zen Buddhism, to call for an end to all wars. He was known for the phrase “peacefulness through a bowl of tea.”

He was also a former kamikaze pilot.

After leaving Doshisha University in 1943 he was drafted to the Imperial Navy, where he trained to be a pilot. When his unit was asked to form a “special attack” squadron to carry out suicide missions, Mr. Sen was one of the volunteers.
“I thought I was ready to die,” Mr. Sen said in a 2021 interview with a Japanese newspaper. “But I was just a greenhorn of 20 or 21 years of age. I didn’t know what death meant.”
While many young men in his unit flew off to ram their aircraft into Allied ships, Mr. Sen was never sent. Historians say the Japanese military often spared the oldest sons, especially from historically significant households.
After the war, Mr. Sen asked a former commander why he was never sent. The older man answered: “Just think of it as fate.”
Unlike many war veterans, Mr. Sen spoke openly of his experiences and sorrow for comrades who never returned. He also made no effort to disguise his anger toward his nation’s leaders who sent them on one-way missions.
“We were told to die because others would fill our ranks,” he said in another interview. “But who wants to die?”

Obit watch: August 9, 2025.

Saturday, August 9th, 2025

Captain James A. Lovell Jr. (USN – ret.) NASA page.

Captain Lovell, a former Navy test pilot, flew for some 715 hours in space, the most of any astronaut in the pioneering Mercury, Gemini and Apollo programs forged by the United States as it vied with the Soviet Union to put a man on the moon by the end of the 1960s.
He took part in two Gemini missions that orbited Earth and was one of the three astronauts aboard Apollo 8, the first spaceflight to orbit the moon, before he was chosen by NASA for Apollo 13.

I’m sure all my readers know what happened with Apollo 13. If you don’t, there’s a really good movie about Apollo 13, and a lot of details in the obit.

It isn’t everyone who gets Tom Hanks to play them in a movie. (And Jim Lovell played the captain of the USS Iwo Jima, which gives him a Bacon number of 1.)

Captain Lovell’s first space mission came in December 1965 when he orbited Earth with Lt. Col. Frank Borman in Gemini 7, a flight of more than 330 hours that included the first rendezvous of two manned spacecraft, the type of maneuver that would have to be carried out for a moon landing.
Captain Lovell commanded Gemini 12 in November 1966, flying with Maj. Buzz Aldrin of the Air Force, who in July 1969 became the second man to walk on the moon, after Neil Armstrong, in the flight of Apollo 11.
Gemini 12 carried out 59 orbits of Earth over four days to close out the Gemini program.
Captain Lovell was the command module pilot on the six-day journey of Apollo 8 at Christmastime 1968, joining with Colonel Borman and Maj. William A. Anders as the first men to orbit the moon, looping around it 10 times.

William H. Webster, former head of both the CIA and the FBI.

Obit watch: August 4, 2025.

Monday, August 4th, 2025

Loni Anderson. NYT.

“WKRP” was a great show, and she was a big part of what made it great. (“And, as we know, Jennifer was the smartest person in the room.” Yes, Jennifer was smart, and I’d even agree deceptively smart. But “smartest person in the room”? Hello, Bailey Quarters. Hello, Venus Flytrap. That’s another one of the things that made “WKRP” great: multiple smart people.)

Edited to add: I probably should have put in an IMDB link. Especially since Lawrence asked:

Who is killing the cast of “3 Ninjas: High Noon at Mega Mountain”?

Rahaman Ali. Long time readers know I don’t like covering people just because of their relationship with other famous people. But Mr. Ali has an interesting story.

He was Muhammad Ali’s brother.

Rahaman Ali was a promising amateur boxer who won his first professional fight in an undercard bout the same evening that his brother beat Liston to become the world heavyweight champion. Rahaman went on to earn a middling record of 10 wins, three losses and one draw. He retired after a technical knockout in 1972.
Several figures from the brothers’ youth later said in interviews that Rahaman Ali had been a clever, coachable fighter who just lacked Muhammad’s charisma. When a group of Louisville businessmen got together to sponsor Muhammad, then known as Cassius Clay, they left Rahaman, then Rudy Clay, out of the deal. (The two brothers changed their names and joined the Nation of Islam around the same time in the early 1960s.)

He gave up his career to become part of Muhammad’s entourage, serving as “chauffeur, sparring partner, gofer, chef and cornerman”. Also human wristwatch, because Muhammad wouldn’t wear one: he’d just ask Rahaman for the time.

In 1990, speaking to The Courier-Journal of Louisville, Rahaman Ali expressed regret for not having focused on his own boxing career.
After his own bouts, “Muhammad never said, ‘Good fight, good fight, Rahaman,’” Rahaman said. “I feel he could have come back and congratulated me.”

Mr. Eig wrote that though Muhammad Ali had once promised always to provide for his brother, Rahaman had begun to live in poverty after a falling-out with Lonnie, Muhammad’s fourth and final wife.
He was sometimes described showing up to Ali Center events attended by his brother yet hardly speaking to him, instead wandering around to introduce himself as “Muhammad Ali’s brother.” Mr. Eig described one such occasion in 2015. Rahaman was not among the list of eminences who got a private audience with Muhammad. Afterward, he walked from table to table, collecting small decorative photographs of Muhammad and putting them into a shopping bag.

Flaco Jiménez, Tex-Mex accordion player. This isn’t my style of music, but even I’d heard of Flaco Jiménez. He was just that big a deal.

David Rendall, operatic tenor. I find this noteworthy because he had a series of…issues? Accidents?

In April 2005, Mr. Rendall was singing Radamès in Verdi’s “Aida” at the Royal Danish Theater in Copenhagen when part of the stage collapsed, destroying the set. He was “knocked down at least 15 feet and tried to crawl to safety to avoid being crushed,” he later told The Telegraph of London. “I thought I was going to die,” a fate that awaits Radamès in the opera but is not normally faced by tenors singing the role.
Mr. Rendall had knee and hip replacements and surgery to his shoulder after the accident. Directors stopped calling, and he had to put his home up for sale. “I can’t do what some directors want onstage,” he told the British newspaper The Telegraph. He received some compensation from the theater but sued anyway.

Before that he nearly killed his singing partner.

Mr. Rendall was singing Canio in “I Pagliacci” in Milwaukee in November 1998 — his ringing performance of the great Act I aria “Vesti la giubba” is particularly noteworthy — when he nearly stabbed to death the baritone Kimm Julian.
The last scene includes, in the libretto, just such a stabbing, when Canio kills Silvio, the lover of his unfaithful wife.
“I’d been given my props when we started rehearsing, and these included a knife for the stabbing scene,” Mr. Rendall later told The New York Times. “At the crucial moment, just as I’d done 12 times before, I pushed the button to make the blade retract. But when I looked down, I saw to my amazement that the blade was still out.”
Mr. Julian, blood-soaked, collapsed. The blade had gone three inches into his chest and narrowly missed killing him.

The remaining performances of the show sold out. Mr. Julian made a full recovery. Mr. Rendall was questioned by the police, but ultimately released.