Obit watch: August 10, 2020.

For the record: William English (one of the people who helped build the first mouse) and Frances Allen, noted computer scientist and researcher. Both of these have been extensively covered in a lot of places, which is why I’m only noting them here.

Terry Cannon. My feelings about baseball are well known, but Mr. Cannon sounds like my type of person. He founded the Baseball Reliquary:

…a nonprofit organization that comprises a disarming collection of unusual objects and includes the Shrine of the Eternals — individuals elected annually more for their unique characters and achievements than for their statistics or their official place in baseball’s history.

A puckish historian, Mr. Cannon opened every shrine induction ceremony by leading the audience in a Pasadena library in the banging of cowbells, in tribute to Hilda Chester, the leather-lunged Brooklyn Dodger fan known for pounding a cowbell at Ebbets Field. The reliquary’s Hilda Award is given to distinguished fans.

The first induction, in 1999, exemplified the shrine’s type of inductee: Curt Flood, who helped pave the way for free agency by challenging baseball’s reserve clause, which tied a player to his team year after year unless an owner traded or released him; Bill Veeck, the maverick owner of several teams; and [Dock] Ellis, a thoughtful, idiosyncratic Black pitcher, mostly for the Pittsburgh Pirates, who spoke out on racial issues.
Ellis attended his induction ceremony and wept, saying that Major League Baseball had never honored him. He recalled receiving a letter from Jackie Robinson (a 2005 shrine inductee) urging him to continue to push for change in baseball.
“He was crying his eyes out,” Ms. Cannon, who is also the reliquary’s artistic director, said in an interview. “I had to reach over and pat his hand to bring him back.”

Mr. Cannon was, indeed, a serious scholar, but the artifacts he collected invariably prompted a smile — as did his use, at his wife’s suggestion, of the word “reliquary,” which means a container for holy relics.
There is the jockstrap worn by the 3-foot-7 Eddie Gaedel, who appeared as a pinch-hitter for the St. Louis Browns in 1951 in a stunt conceived by Mr. Veeck. And there is the sacristy box that a priest used in 1948 to give the last rites to Babe Ruth, who died nearly a month later.
Then there are the curlers that Ellis wore on the field during batting practice at Three Rivers Stadium after Ebony magazine wrote about his hairstyle.
“I was interested in things that other museums weren’t interested in collecting,” Mr. Cannon told Pasadena Weekly in 2017. “Like, if they wanted bats and gloves, I wanted things to keep famous stories alive. It was more interesting to find a desiccated hot dog that Babe Ruth partially digested than a signed baseball or bat.”

Richard Lapointe. This is an incredibly sad story worth noting here.

In March of 1987, Bernice Martin was raped and murdered, and her apartment was set on fire. She was 88 years old, and the grandmother of Mr. Lapointe’s wife. Mr. Lapointe, who was born with a brain malformation that left him with limited mental capability, was interrogated by the police. Eventually, he signed three confessions to the crime, “though their legitimacy was open to debate“.

He was convicted in 1992 and sentenced to life. But almost immediately people raised questions about the conviction.

Among those who smelled a miscarriage of justice from the start was Tom Condon, a columnist for The Courant. Ten days after the conviction, he began his column this way:
“Richard Lapointe is short, chubby and owlishly homely. He wears a hearing aid and thick glasses. He is meek and deferential. He is not very bright.
“Watching him on the witness stand and examining the record, it is hard to believe that on one night in his 46 years, and one night only, he turned into a crazed psychopathic sex killer.
“It is so hard to believe, that maybe he didn’t.”

“The Richard Lapointe case was a top-to-bottom failure of the Connecticut criminal justice system, compounded by some bad luck,” Mr. Condon, who covered the case extensively for The Courant and now writes for The Connecticut Mirror, said by email. “He never should have been arrested, he never should have been convicted, and he certainly never should have spent 26 years in prison while the state circled the wagons and tried to protect a bad conviction.” (Mr. Lapointe spent three years in prison before his conviction.)

Among other issues, Mr. Lapointe’s disability may have left him particularly inclined to please others, including pleasing the police by signing confessions. And his disability may also have left him so poorly coordinated that he was physically incapable of doing the crime.

It was not until 2015 that the Connecticut Supreme Court intervened, examining an argument that exonerating evidence had not reached the defense. Its ruling reversing the conviction did not mince words.
“The petitioner was forty-two years old when he allegedly committed one of the most brutal crimes in our state’s history — the rape, torture and murder of a defenseless eighty-eight year old woman, a person who, by all accounts, was like a grandmother to him,” the majority opinion read. “Although there is abundant evidence in the record concerning the petitioner’s simplemindedness, his peculiarities and his very rigid way of thinking, one searches the record in vain for evidence that he ever was physically violent, that he suffered from a mood disorder, psychosis, drug addiction or anything else that could explain why, after visiting the victim every Sunday for years, he suddenly went back to her apartment on the Sunday in question and brutally murdered her, without his wife noticing either that he had left their house or any change in his demeanor or appearance upon his return.”

He lived for five years after his release. According to people who knew him, he had dementia and had been hospitalized with COVID.

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