The Wall

People Who Died - October, 2022

October may be the last good month of the year, even though I love Thanksgiving and Christmas.  October has all the sports.  Football is in full swing while hockey and basketball are getting going and baseball is in playoff mode even though my Mets suffered a premature death.  We still have Daylight Savings Time and with Halloween, we all have an excuse to stock up on candy we like and then claim we didn’t get enough trick-or-treaters and we therefore have to eat the candy ourselves.  What’s better than that?  On the other hand, we suffered some real losses in October so here we go.

I initially thought that this was going to be a good, but sort of ho-hum, month and then I learned that we lost Jerry Lee Lewis at 87.  This may be somewhat blasphemous but I may just put him on par with the Queen.  To me, he was all that Rock N’ Roll embodies – rebellion, salacious unions, drugs, drinking and totally sticking your finger in the eye of everything establishment.  Not that I have done it, I just enjoy that people like Jerry Lee are around to do it.  Jerry Lee was if nothing, a disrupter, and he lived the quintessential sex drugs and rock n’ roll life.  In fact, he may have drafted the blueprint for it.   He burst on the scene with songs such as “Great Balls of Fire” and “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On.”  As a performer, Jerry Lee would kick away the piano stool and go to town on the piano.  Latter day rockers such as David Lee Roth, Roger Daltry,  Springsteen and the like owe it all to him.  One night he was on the bill with Buddy Holly and Chuck Berry and the promoter decided that Berry and not Jerry Lee would close the show.  Jerry was unhappy with the decision and went out for his performance and set the piano on fire after dousing it with gasoline.  When he finished the set he allegedly walked past Berry who was up next saying: “now follow that.” 

Jerry Lee’s was a rock n’ roll life.  His third marriage (he had never bothered to formally end his second) was to his 13-year-old second cousin (two other cousins were Jimmy Swaggart and Mickey Gilley but he didn’t marry either of them) and that was too much for folks at the time and basically killed his career.  He had two kids with Myra Gale Brown, who ultimately divorced him saying that had she stayed with him she would be dead (others were).  He did come back eventually but more as a Country star.  He was unhappy, though, that he didn’t get his due as a rocker, always believing he was the true king of rock.  One drunken night in Memphis he crashed his car through the gates of Graceland and demanded to see Elvis.  He was armed with a gun ultimately taken into custody.  Death was not new to the man nicknamed “Killer” in high school.  Two of his seven wives died under suspicious circumstances and he once shot his bass player in the chest with a .357 Magnum, ostensibly by mistake.  He also drank and did drugs, spending time at the Betty Ford Clinic amongst others and often didn’t bother to pay taxes which raised the ire of the IRS which eventually caught up to him with a 4.1-million-dollar bill for back taxes and fines, causing him into exile in Dublin for nearly two years.  

Jerry Lee (yes three paragraphs) was inducted into the Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame, an institution I loathe because it stands for everything that Jerry Lee’s life was not.  Jerry Lee was the embodiment of rebellion and the RNRHOF is about dressing up, having a gala, telling each other how great they are and handing out awards.  Shameless and totally antithetical to my view of all that rock n’ roll stands for.  He was also inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame.  With real Christian roots, the place Jerry Lee wanted to get inducted into doesn’t hold public ceremonies.  He told USA Today: “I’m looking forward to going to heaven. I certainly hope they need a piano player.”  It does have harp qualities. 

Sorry Angela but I’m going with Lorretta Lynn first as the Coal Miner’s daughter and the true queen of country music died at 90.  She had quite a life.  She was literally a coal miner’s daughter and headed for a similar life to her dad’s when she married at 15, after knowing her husband for a month, making Jerry Lee’s transgression seem almost tame by comparison.  Her rocky marriage lasted until her husband, Oliver Lynn, known as “Dolittle,” died in 1996.  Her husband was a bit Col. Parker (who managed Elvis) and part womanizing scoundrel.  Of her marriage, Ms. Lynn said:  "he never hit me one time that I didn't hit him back twice. We fought hard and we loved hard.”  She had her first of six children when she was 16.  She sang songs about her life such as “Don’t Come Home A-Drinkin’ (With Lovin’ On Your Mind).  She also sang about the plight of women with songs such as “One On the Way,” written by Shel Silverstein, and “The Pill” which was one of the first songs to broach birth control.  Her most popular tune, “You Ain’t Woman Enough (To Take My Man),” was based on a confrontation she had with her husband’s then mistress.  She paved the way for the many women of Country music.   For a while she teamed with Conway Twitty and the two reeled off five consecutive number one hits in the early 1970’s.  Interesting tidbit that I didn’t know, Lynn was one of eight siblings, one of whom was Crystal Gayle (Brenda Gail) of “Don’t it Make Your Brown Eyes Blue” fame.  Ms. Lynn received about every Country music accolade one could achieve and was the recipient of the Presidential Medal of Freedom.  After a career lull, she had a resurgence with Jack White producing “Van Lear Rose” which earned two Grammy awards.  A tribute album featuring Kid Rock, The White Stripes, Carrie Underwood, Miranda Lambert, Sheryl Crow, Lucinda Williams, Steve Earl and others was critically received.  Jack White called her the “greatest female singer-songwriter of the 20th century” and added, “[W]hat she did for feminism, women’s rights in a time period, in a genre of music that was the hardest to do it in, is just outstanding and will live on for a long time. She broke down a lot of barriers for people that came after her."   Quite a life.

This month really pays homage to some great women.  Angela Lansbury is one of those people whose career was so long and storied that most people (myself among them) are only aware of a period of time and didn’t appreciate the true breadth of her accomplishments.  We lost Ms. Lansbury, who I really only knew for “Murder She Wrote,” of which I didn’t really watch, at 96.  She was first nominated for an Oscar at 19 for her work in the movie “Gaslight.” She was nominated again the following year for “The Picture of Dorian Grey,” and lost again. She would be nominated later in her career for what many believe was her signature role as the villainess in “The Manchurian Candidate,” but again lost to Patty Duke who played the leading role in “The Miracle Worker.”  A villain rarely beats a hero at the Oscars.  This series of losses was again replicated in her role as Jessica Fletcher in “Murder She Wrote” where she was nominated 12 times for an Emmy, losing each time.  Her hardware came all from Broadway where she accumulated five Tony awards.  Ms. Lansbury was, by her own account, a serious actress and not a pretty face.  She liked it that way.  She was born in London, came to the U.S. during WWII and worked hard at her craft.  Her first success was in Hollywood but after being passed over for the Oscar in “The Manchurian Candidate” she headed East and worked in the theater where she had great success. When her kids were having problems coping and taking drugs she moved with her family to Ireland to reset and be a mom and wife and then took the role as Ms. Fletcher in “Murder She Wrote” which is what most people know her for.  A workaholic, she received her last Tony award for her work in the revival of “Blithe Spirit.”  She was 83 when she won it.  Of her work habits, she told Katie Couric: “I really don’t know how to relax to the degree that I could just stop.”   For me, the high point of her professional career (although Jerry Lee might quibble) was when she played Elvis’ mom in “Blue Hawaii.”  Can it get better than that?

Another woman, Tiffany Jackson, who was an All American forward for the University of Texas and who played nine years in the WNBA, three of which were with the New York Liberty, died at 37. According to ESPN, “She is the only player in Texas women's hoops history to have at least 1,000 points, 1,000 rebounds, 300 steals and 150 blocks.”  She retired from the pro game at 32 and coached for her alma mater.  Just this April she was named head coach at Wiley College.  She makes this rag not because I especially follow women’s basketball (although I am a fan of U-Conn’s women’s program) but because her life was remarkable and she died from breast cancer.  A professional athlete who undoubtedly took care of her health and was in top form had her life cut way too short by a particularly heinous sickness. If you are a woman reading this or have women in your lives, tell them to get tested.  As uncomfortable as I am told it is, it should be a yearly necessity for women because, much as we men rail against you, we like having you around.   

The male analog to Ms. Jackson is Elias Theodorou, a mixed martial arts fighter who died at 34. While I don’t follow women’s basketball, I am generally aware of it. Mixed martial arts is as alien to me as Scientology.  Mr. Theodorou fought his sport’s hierarchy for an exemption to use marihuana for a neuropathic condition that caused his hands to tingle.  He claimed that the THC in marihuana helped him.  His sport granted him a therapeutic exemption.   While that is notable and like Ms. Jackson his life is worth lauding, he is here because he died of colon cancer.  We can’t let women rule the world so getting tested is, and should be, an important part of a yearly medical checkup.

Alright, enough pontificating on my part.  Back to the reality that life will end for all of us.  When I was a kid, well before 24-hour-a-day cable news networks, “Eyewitness News” was the fast-paced news show to watch.  Anchored by Roger Grimbsy and Bill Beutel, it had reporters that mirrored the community, such as Geraldo Rivera, Melba Tolliver, and John Johnson. The architect of that groundbreaking news format, Al Primo, died at 87.  His idea of making television news more entertaining was put on steroids by cable networks and we have the mess on cable that we have now.   It would be interesting to see what Grimsby, known for his acerbic, sometimes alcohol-fueled wit (they served chocolates filled with vodka at his memorial service), would say about today’s cable news networks.  The format’s free-form banter led to some great reporting as in Rivera’s uncovering of the horrendous conditions at the state-supported Willowbrook school for the mentally disabled.  It also, though, sometimes led to trouble as when Tex Antoine, the weatherman, following a story about an attempted rape, said that if the act was inevitable, women should lay back, relax and enjoy it.  That got him bounced but two weeks later, when introducing his replacement, Grimsby quipped: “lie back, relax and enjoy the weather with Storm Field."   That would have earned Grimsby a place alongside Antoine at the unemployment line today, but it wasn’t a blip back in the day.  Primo certainly paved the way for what we have today which is a far cry from what we had then.  

Sticking with Irreverent, Bernard McGuirk, the longtime producer, of the Imus in the morning Show, died at 64.  I will say that I was no fan of Don Imus but the guy could interview someone and he put together a radio show that was informative, irreverent and for me entertaining.  So well done, Joe Scarborough, a frequent guest on the show, essentially stole the format and moved it to MSNBC as “Morning Joe.”  Both Charles McCord and Bernie McGuirk were pivotal parts of the show and one could argue that McCord, at least on the air, was the adult in the room.  When he left, the rules were relaxed and it led to a rather unfortunate exchange between Imus and McGuirk regarding the Rutgers women’s basketball team which got the show canned from WFAN, only to have it resurrect itself on WABC, with a seemingly contrite (with Imus that is a relative usage the word) radio team.  Nevertheless, when the show wasn’t descending into the worst type of comedy, it was for me, the morning show to listen to.  I started my day with it which is perhaps why I was rather surly much of the time myself.  McGuirk was, under the façade, a kid from the outer-boros who had smarts and a good comedically-irreverent sense.  He said that he got into radio because “it seemed like an easy racket.”  For him it sometimes was and sometimes wasn’t.  That said, I still miss the morning radio with McGuirk, his boss and McCord.    

The Simon family, perhaps best-known for Carly, suffered two tragic blows when sisters, Joanna and Lucy died a day apart.  Joanna Simon was 85.   She was a renowned mezzo-soprano opera singer who also sang popular tunes as can be seen here:

.  She did sing back-up vocals on both her sisters’ records.  According to her New York Times obituary, “She stood out for her range of material, mastery of foreign languages and willingness to take risks on contemporary composers.” She took up opera while at Sarah Lawrence (where younger sister Carly would eventually attend) and continued her studies in Vienna after graduating.  Once she fell and broke her leg but rather than cancel a performance she got onstage with the aid of crutches and the show went on.  After her husband’s death she dated Walter Cronkite until he died. After she stopped performing, she was an arts correspondent for the MacNeil-Lehrer Report and ultimately was in residential real estate sales where she was also quite successful. 

A day after Joanna’s death. Lucy Simon, also a singer, died at 82.  Lucy, Carly and Joanna all started singing together as teenagers and all three were seasoned professionals.  While as noted above, Joanna went into the Opera, Lucy and Carly stayed closer to their folk roots.  Lucy and Carly performed as the Simon Sisters (

).  Lucy married and raised two children stepping back from music.  She did some solo work and eventually, when sister Joanna interviewed the playwright Marsha Norman for the McNeil-Lehrer Report and found she was working on an adaptation of the “The Secret Garden,” introduced her younger sister to Ms. Norman and Lucy wrote the music which garnered a Tony nomination.  There was a brother Simon, Peter, who died in 2018.  We have only Carly to cherish now.      

Sticking with music, I was a big fan of Robert Gordon, a rockabilly musician who never made it to the heights he deserved.  He died at 75.  His version of “It’s only Make Believe,” is to behold.  I couldn’t find the live version that is in my i-pod but this rather tame version is pretty good.

.  other songs like “Black slacks” (“make me cool daddy-O, when I put ‘em on I’m a raring to go”), “Someday Someway,” and Springsteen’s “Fire,” moved me.  He started in the band Tuff Darts (great name) which played the CBGB’s circuit.  He was both behind his time as he could have given Elvis a run for his money, and ahead of his time as bands like the Stray Cats who followed had much more commercial success.  He played with Link Wray and Chris Spedding and even though he did not have a wide impact, I was a big fan.  Others must have felt the same as he got a New York Times obit.  More than I will get.                 

Before there was Mariano Rivera and his cut-fastball, there was the split-fingered fastball of Bruce Sutter who died at 69.  He had 300 career saves and while other relief pitchers were inducted into the Hall of Fame before him, he was the first pitcher to be inducted who never started a major league ballgame.  He also won the Cy Young award in 1979.  He pitched for the Cubs, Cardinals and Braves but it was the Cubs minor league pitching coach, who taught Sutter to throw the split-fingered pitch that made his career.  While in the minors, Sutter injured his elbow and rather than tell the club, because he feared he would get cut, he paid for off-season surgery himself.  Upon his return the following Spring, his velocity was down.  The coach, Fred Martin, noticed the scar and showed him the pitch which both saved and made his career.  It was a pitch that, much like Mariano’s cutter, that batters knew was coming but still couldn’t hit.  Ironically, when making the pitch that won the Cardinals the World Series in 1982, Sutter strayed from his signature pitch and went to an 84-mph fastball.  Take that you fireballers of today.     

My day job is the law so I feel I must note the passing of Judge Delores Sloviter at 90.  Judge Sloviter was a woman of firsts.  She was the first woman to sit on the Third Circuit and the Court’s first female Chief.  She made firsts before the bench as well as the first female partner at a Philadelphia law firm (Dilworth Paxson) and the first female law professor in the City of Philadelphia (Temple, now Beasley).    She worked for women’s rights largely by being an incredible role model.  A recruiter at Penn Law School once told her that he doubted she would be accepted to law school and even were that to happen, she probably wouldn’t amount to much.  She spent her professional life proving him wrong.  Bravo.    

On the District Court level, Sterling Johnson died at 88.  After a stint in the Marines, he became a New York cop and attended Brooklyn College and then its law school while working as one of New York’s Finest.  He was an Assistant U.S. Attorney and from 1975 to 1991 was New York’s Special Drug Prosecutor. President George H.W. Bush appointed him to the federal Bench in the Eastern District of New York (Brooklyn for the non-lawyers) where he presided over cases until last year.  He was a go-getter.  Once when courthouse renovations limited the number of available courtrooms, he moved some chairs into the park across the way from the courthouse and conducted a non-jury trial in the park with court security telling passersby to be quiet because court was in session.   I know the park because when I was a summer associate at a Brooklyn firm we played baseball there. I believe court was in centerfield.  By the way, for you attorney’s out there who, rather than reading this drivel, would prefer something more legal, well written and intellectual, I recommend David Lat’s Original Jurisdiction, which, on a weekly basis, captures the legal goings-on in a well-written and concise format.  Get it on Substack.    

While Jerry Lee was a preacher, but in a rock n’ roll format, the Reverent Calvin O. Butts III, who died at 73, went more for your soul.  He was not only a gifted preacher but a force for social justice in New York, especially Harlem, where his Abyssinian Baptist Church was located.  He operated at the intersection of religion, power and politics and was incredibly effective at all three.  He raised over billion dollars for housing, commercial development, and community services such as supermarkets and schools. He understood that he needed to change more than just souls in his role.  His journey to his 33 years as pastor was interesting as he had originally set out to be an industrial psychologist.  When he was at Morehouse college and Dr. King was murdered, he and others set out on a mission of mayhem with molotov cocktails and the like.   According to is New York Times obit: “We were on a good roll,’ he recalled in an interview with the research and educational institution the HistoryMakers in 2005. I looked down at one of these Molotov cocktails, and I looked up at this halftrack truck and this guy with this big shotgun and his very red neck. And all of a sudden I understood that violence was not the way.”   Rather perceptive and practical I would say. It was that ability to be practical and see the lunacy of things that made him as effective as he was.  Not sure what happened to the guy with the red neck, however. 

You may not know Dietrich Mateschitz, but for sure you know his caffeinated company, Red Bull.  Well, he popped his last Red Bull tab at 75. Don’t ask me why this font changes, It’s simply unexplainable to me, like how electricity works.   While a toothpaste salesman Mateschitz learned of pick-me-up drinks that were sold in Asian pharmacies to keep menial workers alert.  He got in touch with one of the makers,  Chaleo Yoovidhya, whose beverage, when translated, meant red bull, forged a partnership, and contoured the drink to meet western tastes and needs which included loads of sugar and caffeine.  Through innovative marketing that included backing lots of extreme, and some not so extreme, sports, Red Bull has become a staple of sleep-deprived young parents and an accompaniment to vodka for a supercharged high.  He also bet on Formula 1 in a big way and put together a first-class racing team that is a perennial winner.  The company has ridden the surge in F-1 popularity and leveraged the publicity element of the sport.  There are Red Bull air races, Red Bull soccer teams (we have one in New Jersey) and the company is now as recognizable as Budweiser.  Red Bull sponsored the jump of Felix Baumgartner who became the first human to break the sound barrier under his own power when he jumped from a hot air balloon 24 miles above the New Mexico desert.  Mr. Mateschitz was not only the head of the company but he was a consumer as well, claiming to consume some 12 cans of his product a day.   To quote Jerry Lee, I am sure after about ten of those bad boys there was a whole lotta shakin’ going on.  Perhaps if he showed more restraint, he would be with us today.   

Finally, I have mentioned a few times that I am not a movie guy but if I was aware of movies such as “Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens,” I might have paid more attention to the genre.  The star of that celluloid masterpiece who brought little actual acting, but according to the New York Times, a hefty amount of “audacity and ample physical attributes,” Kitten Natividad, died at 74.  Ms. Natividad honed her skills in go-go bars and made such an impression on the filmmaker (okay, I’m stretching the term here a bit) Russ Meyer, that he married her.  If you think this isn’t real cinema, just remember that Roger Ebert wrote some of Ms. Natividad’s dialogue. Again, according to the Times, Mr. Ebert was instructed that “It doesn’t matter what she says, she just has to say something. And it should sound kinda poetic.”  It was the physical attributes that would sell the movie.  When she came to the United States from Mexico she got a job as a keypunch operator but when she learned her neighbor, who was a stripper, earned twice as much as her, she quickly changed careers, ultimately winning the Miss Nude Universe pageant.  To star in his movie, Mr. Meyer paid for breast augmentation surgery which was fine with Ms. Natividad who grew up idolizing “beautiful women with the big breasts, the red lipstick, the big hairdos.”  Summing up her career, Ms. Natividad said: “There are lots of beautiful women with great bodies and even bigger boobs than ours, but they didn’t get to be Russ Meyer girls. We are very, very special.”   Nothing I can say can top that. 

So long for October.  Hit subscribe to keep getting this.