Daniel E. Slotnik

His daughter Rhynna Santos said the cause was complications of congestive heart failure.

In the 1950s and ’60s, if you were at the Palladium or one of the other nightclubs in New York where Latin jazz was played and elegant dancers tried the newest Cuban-inspired steps, there’s a decent chance that you heard Santos. He was a mainstay in bands led by luminaries like Tito Puente, Machito and Tito Rodriguez, often called mambo’s Big Three.

In an interview with the blog Jazz Wax in 2009, Santos said that all three of those bandleaders “could go off the deep end” when they felt musicians were not playing their best. “Machito was low key when he was angry,” he said. “But Puente and Rodriguez would pull out the whip. The whole band would get it.”

As an arranger, conductor and teacher — he earned the nickname El Maestro — Santos took a more measured approach.

Wynton Marsalis, the managing and artistic director of Jazz at Lincoln Center, who invited Santos to conduct concerts there in the 1990s, described him in an interview as an “extremely astute musician” who was able to catch the smallest error in an ensemble, but who was “collegial” in his approach to musicians.

“He was a great conductor of improvised musicians,” Marsalis said. “He’s not strict; he wants to hear the freedom.”

He added, “He just represented the quality, the insight and the dignity of a whole idiom, and by that idiom I don’t mean Afro-Latin music, I mean American music.”

Santos wrote arrangements for Chico O’Farrill, Mario Bauzá, Noro Morales, Celia Cruz and Eddie Palmieri. He played tenor saxophone on Machito’s seminal Afro-Cuban jazz album “Kenya” (1958), which featured Cannonball Adderley on alto.

In 1992, he arranged many of the songs for the soundtrack of the film “The Mambo Kings” and arranged Linda Ronstadt’s album of Latin pop songs, “Frenesi" (1992), which won a Grammy Award for best tropical Latin album.

For nearly three decades Santos taught at the City College of New York, leading the Latin band there and imparting his long experience to new generations of musicians.

One of them was Arturo O’Farrill, the pianist, composer and director of the Afro Latin Jazz Orchestra. O’Farrill, the son of Santos’ old colleague Chico O’Farrill, said in an interview that Santos “never overplayed or overwrote” and that “his contribution to the body of work is this distinct clarity and singleness of purpose.”

“Playing his piano parts, for instance, didn’t require a degree in physics,” O’Farrill continued. “They played themselves. His music played itself; it was so well written, so clear that it couldn’t help but swing.”

Raymond Santos was born in Manhattan on Dec. 28, 1928. His parents, Carmen and Ramon Santos, were from Puerto Rico. His mother was a doll-maker and homemaker, his father a doorman. He grew up, first in East Harlem and later the Bronx, immersed in Puerto Rican music and in big-band jazz, particularly as played by Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller and Count Basie.

He began studying the saxophone as a teenager and graduated from Haaren High School in Manhattan before studying classical music at the Juilliard School, where his contemporaries included saxophonist Teo Macero, who would later become an acclaimed record producer, and soprano Leontyne Price. He graduated in the early 1950s.

“I was exposed to classical music and became amazed at how much jazz harmony came from Stravinsky and Ravel,” Santos said in 2009. “We’d analyze the scores of classical works, which got me into arranging. Eventually I was devoting as much time to music theory and writing as I was to practicing the saxophone.”

Santos’ marriage to Maria Santos ended in divorce.

In addition to his daughter Rhynna, he is survived by three other daughters, Virna Santos, Cynthia Santos-DeCure and Carmen Santos-Robson, a mezzo-soprano; a son, Raymond Jr.; and eight grandchildren.

In 2011, the Latin Recording Academy honored Santos with a Trustees Award for lifetime achievement. In 2016, the Berklee College of Music in Boston granted him an honorary doctorate.

He continued working almost until the end. His last published project was writing arrangements for Eddie Palmieri’s 2018 album, “Mi Luz Amor.”

This article originally appeared in

Ray Santos, a Pillar of Latin Jazz, Is Dead at 90

NEW YORK — Ray Santos, who played saxophone with the biggest stars in Latin jazz and went on to write arrangements renowned for their economy and clarity, died on Oct. 17 at a hospital near his home in the Bronx. He was 90.

The cause was a heart attack, his brother Douglas said.

March’s career as a designer began in earnest during a decade with “Beach Blanket Babylon,” a long-running musical revue in San Francisco known for its elaborate costumes. March’s contributions included a towering Martha Stewart-themed headpiece complete with a pie, a lobster, a pot of sunflowers and a copy of Martha Stewart Living.

That over-the-top drag show aesthetic characterized much of March’s work. He dressed Lady Gaga in a studded ankle-length motorcycle jacket with jutting shoulder pads for a concert in Las Vegas in 2011. He helped realize Thierry Mugler’s superhero designs for Beyoncé’s 2009-10 world tour, including a golden outfit that resembled a futuristic one-piece bathing suit.

But those costumes, eye-catching as they were, were almost pedestrian by March’s standards. His other designs included “a Mr. Potato Head, a palm tree, a lobster and a 10-foot martini,” The New York Times reported in 2006.

The occasion for the Times article was a commission that March had accepted from Wish-Bone, the salad dressing maker, to construct outfits using real and artificial vegetables — lettuce, cabbage, tomatoes, green onions — for a promotional fashion show of sorts at Grand Central Terminal.

“They said, ‘You know, we don’t really know anyone who could do this, but do you think you could make a line of clothing made out of salad and food?’” March was quoted as saying in the article. “I said, sure, it’s one of the easier things I’ve done. I once made a giant 6-foot can of Crisco that a person had to dance in, and that had an Elvis wig on top.”

March’s designs for “Project Runway,” during the show’s 2007-08 season, its fourth, incorporated human hair in some cases; another entry was a strappy leopard-print halter top with matching hood and sleeves for the WWE wrestler Maria Kanellis. He became a fan favorite, even though, under the show’s competition format, he finished in fourth place at the season’s end.

March was not afraid to model his more extreme designs himself, proudly appearing beneath colossal wigs as drag versions of Princess Leia or Wonder Woman.

Christopher Andrew March was born on Feb. 25, 1963, in Alameda, California, to Carl Allen and Dolores March. He grew up mostly in Northern California, where he liked to design elaborate Halloween costumes before graduating from high school.

A biography on his website said that he had lived in San Francisco for years before settling in New York City. In addition to his brother Douglas, he is survived by three other brothers, David, Steven and Michael, and his mother.

In 2018, March said in a statement to his fans that he had been put into a medically induced coma after falling and hitting his head in 2017 and emerged partly paralyzed, necessitating physical therapy.

March designed costumes for Cirque du Soleil and spectacular drag outfits for “Christmas With the Crawfords,” a 2001 show at the Chelsea Playhouse in Manhattan in which he appeared onstage as Shirley Temple. He created, designed, produced and starred in another holiday show, “Chris March’s The Butt-Cracker Suite!,” a rethinking of Tchaikovsky’s “Nutcracker,” which ran for a month in 2009 at the Lower Manhattan arts center Here. It was billed as a “trailer park ballet.”

In 2011 he hosted his own short-lived reality show on Bravo, “Mad Fashion,” on which he dressed celebrities like Jennifer Coolidge and Chrissy Teigen. He designed a series of Halloween wigs for Target in 2013.

Though his designs were often studies in overstatement, March could also make elegant clothing, like a slouchy, belted black evening gown that Meryl Streep wore to the Golden Globes ceremony in 2010, and a sleek white one she wore to the Academy Awards the same year.

Anne Bratskeir, a fashion reporter for Newsday, wrote that Streep “looked good, fresh and crisp” in the Oscars gown.

Chris March, Over-the-Top Fashion Designer, Dies at 56

Chris March, a fashion and costume designer whose outrageous outfits caught the eye of audiences on Bravo’s hit reality show “Project Runway,” and who went on to create striking clothes for Lady Gaga, Beyoncé and other stars, died Thursday at a care facility in Stockton, California. He was 56.

The death was confirmed by his manager, Alan Somers, who did not specify the cause.

Fonda was practically Hollywood royalty — the son of Henry Fonda and the younger brother of Jane Fonda — but pursued his own, unconventional course.

He and another Hollywood rebel, Dennis Hopper, teamed up with Terry Southern to write “Easy Rider” (1969), earning an Academy Award nomination for best screenplay.

“Easy Rider,” which was directed by Hopper and featured Jack Nicholson in one of his earliest film roles, was seen as encapsulation of the freewheeling, anti-establishment spirit of the 1960s and cemented Fonda’s reputation as an actor.

This article originally appeared in <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/16/arts/peter-fonda-dead.html" id="9363eae9-cbaa-3ef9-ac9f-d01c644d0e0e">The New York Times</a>.

Peter Fonda, 'Easy Rider' Actor and Screenwriter, Is Dead at 79

Peter Fonda, the writer, director and actor best remembered for playing a motorcycle-riding avatar of the counterculture in “Easy Rider,” an emblematic film of the 1960s that he helped write, died Friday at his home in Los Angeles. He was 79.

His death was confirmed in a statement by his family and shared on Twitter by ESPN reporter Jeremy Schaap. The statement said Buckner had Lewy body dementia.

Buckner was tough on the field, battling injuries for much of his career, and dependable at the plate, registering a .300 batting average in seven seasons and amassing 2,715 hits and 174 home runs during his two decades in the Major Leagues.

Buckner came up through the Los Angeles Dodgers organization, starting in the minors under Tommy Lasorda, who would go on to manage the Dodgers themselves with great success. With Los Angeles, Buckner played in the 1974 World Series, which the team lost to the Oakland A’s in five games.

Moving to the Chicago Cubs, he won the National League’s batting title in 1980 with a .324 average, led the National League in doubles in 1981 (with 35) and 1983 (38) and was an All-Star in 1981.

Buckner began his career mainly as a speedy outfielder, but he had a bad ankle injury in 1975, and by the time he went to Boston, in a trade in 1984, he had become a full-time first baseman.

It was at first base that he made the error that would haunt him. Boston, facing the Mets, was looking for its first World Series championship since 1918.

It was the bottom of the 10th inning at Shea Stadium in New York, and the Mets had scored two runs to tie the score, 5-5, with Ray Knight on second base. There were two outs, and outfielder Mookie Wilson came to the plate.

With a full count, Wilson, batting left-handed, hit a slow bouncer up the first base line off reliever Bob Stanley, and to the fans at Shea and in the television audience, it looked like an easy third out. All Buckner had to do was scoop it up, touch first base, and the Red Sox would have had another chance to come to the plate in the 11th and possibly win the title that their fans had hungered for for 68 years.

It was not to be. The ball unaccountably skipped between Buckner’s legs and into the outfield. Knight dashed home, scoring the winning run as Mets fans went wild and sending the Series to a seventh game in New York. The Mets won that one, too, 8-5, ensuring that Boston’s long dry spell would, to the bitter consternation of Red Sox fans, drag on, and cementing the most amazing Mets season in memory.

Buckner, who endured heckling for years as the goat in Boston’s defeat, told The New York Times in 2011 that his error remained, unfortunately, unforgettable.

“You can never really forget it because it comes up all the time,” he said. “I’m a competitive guy, so it’s something I didn’t enjoy. But for some reason, the stars were all lined up just right for the Mets that year, and here we are, 25 years later, still talking about it.”

Buckner underwent ankle and foot surgery during the offseason and started the 1987 season slowly. The Red Sox released him partway through the campaign, and Buckner went on to play for the California Angels and the Kansas City Royals before ending his career back in Boston in 1990, when he was 41. By then the fans were more forgiving: On his return to Fenway Park, they cheered.

Released by the Red Sox that same year, he retired and moved with his family to a ranch in Meridian, Idaho, in 1993.

Ten years later, Buckner told The Boston Globe that his World Series error did not weigh too heavily on him.

“There could be somebody in my shoes who would think that life sucks,” Buckner said. “I chose to look at it that life is great. You can make those choices. Everyone in life has things that don’t go according to plan.”

William Joseph Buckner was born on Dec. 14, 1949, in Vallejo, California, to Leonard and Marie Buckner. His father died when he was a teenager. His mother was a stenographer for the California Highway Patrol. Bill grew up in American Canyon, California, north of San Francisco.

Buckner excelled at football and baseball as a youth, and the Dodgers selected him in the second round of the 1968 amateur draft. He spent some years in the minor leagues, playing for Lasorda for a spell, and attended the University of Southern California before he spent a full season with the Dodgers in 1971.

He married Jody Schenck, who survives him, in 1980. They had two daughters, Brittany and Christen, and a son, Bobby. Complete information on his survivors was not immediately available.

After his playing days, Buckner invested in real estate and automobile dealerships in Idaho. He also worked as a hitting coach, including with the Toronto Blue Jays and the Chicago White Sox, and as a minor league manager.

The Red Sox finally ended their World Series drought in 2004, when they defeated the St. Louis Cardinals. They won the title again in 2007, beating the Colorado Rockies. The following April, for Boston’s home opener of the 2008 season, Buckner threw out the ceremonial first pitch.

He was greeted with a standing ovation.

This article originally appeared in <a id="849f2e74-9dea-33b3-a18d-14d6325fbf09" href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/27/obituaries/bill-buckner-all-star-shadowed-by-world-series-error-dies-at-69.html">The New York Times</a>.

Bill Buckner, All-Star Shadowed by World Series Error, Dies at 69

Bill Buckner, an outfielder and first baseman whose long, solid career was overshadowed by a crushing error that cost the Boston Red Sox Game 6 of the 1986 World Series against the New York Mets, who went on to win the championship in seven, died Monday. He was 69.

Bill Buckner, All-Star shadowed by World Series error, dies at 69

<h1>Jake Black, who wrote “Woke Up This Morning,” the indelible theme song for the groundbreaking HBO drama “The Sopranos,” with a bandmate in the group Alabama 3, died on Tuesday in London. He was 59.</h1>

Therese Mullan, a representative of Alabama 3, said the cause was acute respiratory illness.

Black and Rob Spragg founded Alabama 3 in the Brixton neighborhood of London in the 1990s. The group, which combined genres as disparate as blues, country, gospel and acid house, built a following and became known for its energetic live shows with a rotating cast of musicians.

Black died days after Alabama 3 performed at a festival in Lancashire, England.

“Woke Up This Morning,” which Black wrote with Spragg, appeared on the group’s first major-label album, “Exile on Coldharbour Lane” (Geffen Records, 1997). Spragg performed the ominous lead vocal on the song, which features a sample of the blues singer Howlin’ Wolf.

“We later found out that David Chase, the writer, was driving the New Jersey Freeway, the route that Tony Soprano would take in the series, and the track came on the radio at the time and he went, ‘I want that band,’ thinking we were from Alabama,” Spragg said in an interview with what is now the British newspaper The Derby Telegraph in 2010 (though the highway Tony mainly took was the New Jersey Turnpike). “Then he finds out it’s a Welshman and a Scotsman living in Brixton, pretending to be American. But he loved it and still wanted the track.”

Two years later a version of “Woke Up This Morning” accompanied the opening sequence of “The Sopranos,” Chase’s critically acclaimed and immensely popular saga about a New Jersey Mafia family.

In that sequence, Tony Soprano, the family patriarch played by James Gandolfini, is driving home in North Jersey while the pulsating song plays on the soundtrack. It ends with Tony parking in the driveway of his upscale suburban house as the phrase “got yourself a gun” reverberates.

“Woke Up This Morning” became instantly recognizable to the show’s many fans. It was sampled by the rapper Nas on his 2001 hit “Got Ur Self a ...,” and its hook was borrowed by the dance-hall reggae artist Beenie Man on the 2002 single “Get Yourself a Gun.”

Spragg told the free newspaper Metro in 2008 that the success of “Woke Up This Morning” “keeps us out of the job center.”

“Now that ‘The Sopranos’ has been syndicated all around the world,” he added, “we’re thinking about doing ‘Woke Up This Morning’ in Mandarin Chinese, Albanian and Russian, just like David Bowie did with ‘Heroes.’”

John Black was born on April 27, 1960, in Basildon, Essex, England, and grew up in Glasgow. He is survived by a brother, Robert, and two sisters, Janice and Lynn.

This article originally appeared in <a id="d6d5cc9d-97b0-4bff-b16e-8e2cd01f0c10" href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/22/obituaries/jake-black-has-died.html">The New York Times</a>.

Jake Black, a composer of the 'Sopranos' theme, dies at 59

Black died days after Alabama 3 performed at a festival in Lancashire, England.

Denise Bukowski, Choy’s agent, said the cause was a heart attack brought on by an asthma attack. He had nearly died from heart attacks related to asthma in the past, episodes he wrote about in “Not Yet: A Memoir of Living and Almost Dying” (2009).

“The Jade Peony,” his debut novel, published in 1995, when he was 56, was one of the first to detail life in a Chinese-Canadian community. It follows a Chinese immigrant family in Vancouver in the 1930s and ’40s as they struggle to make a home in a sometimes hostile country, drawing what support they can from shared traditions, community and folklore.

The book is divided into three parts, each narrated by one of three siblings navigating between the Chinese cultural mores still observed at home and the Western influences outside it.

The novel sold in the hundreds of thousands and was critically well-received. It shared an English-language Trillium Award, which recognizes Ontario writers, with Margaret Atwood’s “Morning in the Burned House” in 1996.

“‘The Jade Peony’ explores themes traditionally associated with novels about the immigrant experience: the promise and treachery to be found outside the matrix of the family, the burden of old ways, the necessity of learning new ones,” Philip Gambone wrote in The New York Times Book Review in 1997. “But Choy ranges over this familiar territory with a fresh eye, disclosing universal themes in the particularities of the Asian-American life of half a century ago.”

“The Jade Peony” and the publicity it received led to a surprising twist in Choy’s life.

After giving a radio interview that year, he received a phone call from someone who claimed that she had seen Choy’s mother in Vancouver. But his mother had died 18 years earlier, he told the caller.

Actually, the caller said, Choy had been adopted; the woman seen in Vancouver, she said, was his biological mother.

Choy investigated the claim, and his search for the truth — he eventually established that the caller had been right — became the basis for his first memoir, “Paper Shadows: A Chinatown Childhood” (1999).

Choy said his work on the memoir filled him with even more respect for what his family had overcome.

“What dazzled me about the Chinatown I researched was that these were people who had escaped from famine and war and came to a place that didn’t want them,” he said in an interview with The Toronto Star in 2004, “yet there was a level of decency that enabled them to emerge as a self-sustaining and civilized population.”

At the beginning of “Paper Shadows,” Choy states the facts of his birth as he had long known them: “I was born Choy Way Sun, on April 20, 1939, in Vancouver, in the province of British Columbia, to Nellie Hop Wah, age thirty-eight, and Yip Doy Choy, age forty-two.”

He later found that those details were true, except for the part about his parents. He never learned the identities of his biological mother and father. (The mysterious caller, it turned out, though correct about his birth history, had been mistaken about whom she saw in Vancouver; it had been his baby sitter, not his birth mother.)

Choy’s adoptive mother worked as a butcher and in a sausage factory, and his adoptive father was a cook on a steamship line that kept him at sea for long periods.

Choy, known as Sonny when he was young, grew up surrounded by an extended family that inspired the fictional one he created in “The Jade Peony.”

He graduated from the University of British Columbia with a bachelor’s degree in English in 1963, returned after a time to study creative writing and later taught remedial English at Humber College in Toronto for many years. He wrote little for decades, although an early work was selected for the 1962 edition of the anthology series “The Best American Short Stories.”

In 2004 Choy published “All That Matters,” a prequel to “The Jade Peony.”

He was appointed to the Order of Canada, the nation’s highest civilian honor, the following year.

Choy had no immediate survivors, but as he wrote in “Not Yet,” he considered himself a part of two families, with whom he lived at different times: that of Karl and Marie Schweishelm and their daughter, Kate Schweishelm, in Toronto; and that of Gary and Jean Noseworthy and their daughter, Tosh Noseworthy, and son, Gary, in Caledon, Ontario.

“I had three wonderful godchildren to spoil,” Choy wrote in an exchange with readers in The Globe and Mail of Toronto in 2009. He added, “Truly, family is who loves you.”

The Schweishelms helped Choy to a hospital some years ago after he had a violent asthma attack. He spent 11 days heavily sedated and drifting in and out of consciousness, an episode he recounted in “Not Yet”:

“I lay like a mannequin, its stiff neoprene skull exposed and stuffed with questions: Did I say thank you? Am I wearing my new shirt? Is my hair combed? Then the life-saving monitors would hiss and pump, click and beep, and I would focus again on my own tenuous mortality.

“Insane, I thought. I’m dying and worried about my hair.”

Wayson Choy, whose books are windows on Chinese-canadian life, dies at 80

Wayson Choy, who wrote of the Chinese-Canadian experience in memoirs and novels like “The Jade Peony,” which became a mainstay in Canadian classrooms and led to a revelation about the writer’s own past, died April 28 at his home in Toronto. He was 80.

Hussle, who was 33 when he was shot and killed in Los Angeles on Sunday in what police said appeared to be a personal dispute, was born Ermias Joseph Asghedom in Los Angeles on Aug. 15, 1985, to Dawit Asghedom and Angelique Smith. His father is Eritrean, and Hussle had said that his name means “God will rise.”

Hussle said in a 2018 interview with Dallas radio station KBFB that he had visited Eritrea and met his relatives there in recent years and considered his African heritage an important part of his identity.

“As much as I’m a black person from America, I’m a black person from Africa, too,” he said.

He said he dropped out of high school after the 10th grade to focus on music. He rapped about his background, and his hope for the future, on “Blue Laces 2”:

Third generation, South Central gang banging

Had lived long enough to see it changing

Think it’s time we make arrangements

Finally wiggle out they mazes

Find me out in different places

But he never entirely left the streets behind, and he said he had never entirely meant to.

Hussle was a member of the Rollin’ 60s Crips gang, and in the Dallas radio interview he said: “You don’t get out of a gang, truthfully. You just redirect your energy.”

At the time of the interview, he was on a promotional tour after the release of his debut album, the Grammy-nominated “Victory Lap,” that February. The album was his first major-label release after he had spent years as a recognizable mixtape rapper who had not quite broken into the mainstream. He sold one mixtape for $100 to gin up publicity; Jay-Z was reported to have bought 100 copies.

While he worked to come up as a rapper, he pursued other ventures that kept him tied to his neighborhood and allowed him to give back to it, like a shared workspace and the Marathon Clothing, his store off Crenshaw Boulevard, where he was shot. Entrepreneurship and self-actualization were a part of his message, along with swagger and braggadocio.

“I ain’t in cars going on missions no more, I ain’t in the spot,” he said in 2018. “I’m on a radio run, dropping my album, you know what I mean, building businesses, employing my homeboys, you know what I mean, and paying taxes.”

His death prompted widespread mourning in South Los Angeles, as well as calls to address the violent crime that still plagues the community.

“I think young people that’s really identified themselves as gang members, when you look at yourself outside of the gang, you don’t really got an identity,” Hussle said, adding that he had decided to focus on music after several of what he described as “wake-up calls.”

In addition to his father and mother, his survivors include his partner, Lauren London, an actress and model; their son, Kross; a daughter from a previous relationship, Emani Asghedom; a brother, Semiel; and a sister, Samantha Smith.

This article originally appeared in <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/04/04/obituaries/a-rapper-who-came-back-for-his-neighborhood.html" id="c119699d-908f-352f-aaa0-81cecb3a1fea">The New York Times</a>.

Nipsey Hussle’s raps boasted of his exploits as a young man in South Central Los Angeles and the perils of becoming a gang member. But his music was also a path to a more legitimate life for him and an inspiration and exhortation to others in his situation.

A Rapper Who Came Back for His Neighborhood

Danielle Boiardi, the curator and manager of the Lyle Tuttle Collection, said Tuttle had been in hospice care after an inoperable growth was discovered in his throat about two weeks before he died.

These days tattoos are commonplace, inspiring clothing lines and museum shows and adorning people from all walks of life, most publicly actors, athletes and musicians. But when Tuttle first took up the needle in the late 1940s, tattoos were practically unheard-of in polite society, more associated with sailors, criminals and sideshow freaks.

Tuttle had been a tattoo enthusiast — both as an artist and as a recipient — since he was a teenager. He was mentored in the 1950s by storied tattooists like Bert Grimm, and he worked in the trade in California and in Alaska before he opened his own shop in San Francisco in 1960, wanting “to get tattooing out of the back alley,” as he told The San Francisco Chronicle in 2002.

His shop became a popular destination for members of the San Francisco counterculture during the 1960s, and by the end of the decade he was being sought out by the likes of Janis Joplin, Joan Baez, the Allman Brothers, Peter Fonda and Cher.

“Janis was a wild and crazy girl — I put a bracelet and a little heart on her breast,” he recalled in 2006 in an interview with The Columbus Dispatch in Ohio. He said he had given Baez “a small blue flower on her back.”

His tattooing of rock stars drew the news media’s interest, as did the elaborate designs covering his own body (except for his face, hands and feet). Dozens of well-known tattooists, like Tahiti Felix Lynch and Painless Nell, did the inking. Some of Grimm’s standout designs could be found on Tuttle, including a full back tattoo that showed two eagles squaring off over the title “Duel in the Sun,” and a coat of arms on his torso that featured a chicken and a feather with a Latin version of the phrase “Chicken today, feathers tomorrow.”

Photographs of Tuttle, with the scruffy hair and sideburns of a rock star, appeared on the cover of Rolling Stone and inside Life magazine accompanying an article about the growing popularity of tattoos among women. At one point the elaborate tattoos on his back, arms and torso were reproduced for a long-sleeved shirt, which was said to have sold in the hundreds of thousands.

Spider Webb, another renowned tattooist, said in a telephone interview that he saw Tuttle as an eloquent “spokesman for tattooing.”

“The breakthrough that he made was in people’s minds,” he said, “tearing down prejudice, and that’s kind of a beautiful thing to do with your life.”

Lyle Gilbert Tuttle was born in Chariton, Iowa, on Oct. 7, 1931. His parents, Howard and Opal (Castor) Tuttle, were farmers who later moved to Ukiah to escape drought. His father became a contractor there.

Lyle got his first tattoo at 14, a heart emblazoned with the word “Mother,” after seeing similar tattoos on servicemen returning from World War II. He paid $3.50 for it in a San Francisco parlor.

“For me, guys with tattoos had been someplace — or at least out of the valley,” he said in 2006, referring to the Ukiah Valley in Northern California.

The tattooist who inked him for the first time was Ralph Kaufman, widely known in San Francisco as Duke. By the late 1940s, having dropped out of high school in Ukiah, Tuttle was working with him.

After a stint in the Marines during the Korean War, Tuttle went on to work with Grimm in Long Beach in the mid-1950s. From there, in 1957, he moved to Alaska, where tattoo artists were rare, and worked for a time in Anchorage and Fairbanks.

Returning to the Bay Area, he worked in Oakland before opening Lyle Tuttle Tattooing in San Francisco. A version of the store, called Lyle Tuttle Tattoo Shop, continues to operate in North Beach.

Tuttle is survived by his wife, Judy (Aurre) Tuttle, and a daughter, Suzanne Tuttle, from an earlier marriage, to Betty Lawson.

Tuttle retired for the most part in the early 1990s. But he remained a celebrity to aficionados, appearing at tattoo conventions around the world and sometimes inking fans with a stylized version of his autograph. He signed the last one a week before he died.

He said he had tattooed at least one person on each continent, including Antarctica, and amassed what many enthusiasts consider the world’s largest collection of tattoo-related artifacts and artwork, like versions of tattoo designs on paper. He drew on that collection to open a small museum in San Francisco dedicated to tattoo history. (It has since closed.)

Tuttle frequently said that he never regretted his own copious tattoos. But he did advise restraint, especially with face and head tattoos, which have become increasingly common.

“It’s a matter of privacy,” he told The Los Angeles Times in 2004. “Hey, I look civilized with my clothes on.”

This article originally appeared in <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/04/03/obituaries/lyle-tuttle-dies.html" id="fa4d34dd-b4c5-34e3-adee-b04f7de88669">The New York Times</a>.

Lyle Tuttle, a tattoo artist who found his own kind of international fame by catering to celebrities while helping to move tattooing, as he put it, from the “back alley” into mainstream acceptability, died on March 26 at his home in Ukiah, California, where he had grown up. He was 87 (and practically covered in tattoos himself).

Lyle Tuttle, Who Recast Tattooing's Image Pore by Pore, Dies at 87

Her early childhood resembled a fairy tale. She grew up in Carinhall, an estate in the countryside replete with priceless works of art and a child-size play palace. Hitler was her godfather, and her birthday inspired national celebrations.

Her youthful idyll ended when the Allies defeated the Nazis in 1945. Hermann Goering, who had been convicted of war crimes and other charges at Nuremberg, committed suicide with a cyanide capsule in his cell hours before he was to be executed in 1946, when Edda was 8.

Edda Goering, who defended her father’s legacy for the rest of her life, died Dec. 21 in Munich. She was 80.

A spokesman for the municipal administrative authority for the city of Munich confirmed the death this week but provided no other details. German news reports said that only a few close associates had been informed of her death.

Children of Nazi officials can have complicated relationships with their parents. Goering’s feelings for her father, who doted on her, were straightforward.

“I loved him very much, and it was obvious how much he loved me,” she told journalist Gerald Posner for his book “Hitler’s Children: Sons and Daughters of Third Reich Leaders (1991).”

“My only memories of him are such loving ones,” she told Posner in a rare interview, “I cannot see him any other way.”

In the same interview, Goering played down her father’s part in the Holocaust, even though most historians say he was instrumental in implementing plans to systematically murder millions of people, including about 6 million Jews.

“My father’s problem was his loyalty to Hitler,” she said. “He had sworn personal fealty to him and would never abandon it, even when Hitler had gone too far. The things that happened to the Jews were horrible, but quite separate from my father.”

During her father’s trial, Goering and her mother, actress Emmy Sonnemann, Hermann Goering’s second wife, spent time in prison. They were living in a cottage without electricity and running water in the Bavarian countryside when her father killed himself; they eventually moved to Munich, where Edda Goering worked as a law clerk and later worked for a surgeon.

Hermann Goering, who was known for his lavish lifestyle, accumulated a vast collection of looted jewelry, furniture and artwork during the war. The German government seized most of his collection — property that Edda Goering said rightfully belonged to her and her mother. “It was all profit for the government,” she said, “and of course I did not receive anything.”

She unsuccessfully petitioned the Bavarian state government to return some of her father’s art collection. Her request was most recently denied in 2015, after a hearing that lasted only a few minutes.

Edda Goering was born June 2, 1938. Hitler became her godfather when she was baptized later that year.

Information on her survivors was not immediately available, but German news media outlets reported that she lived alone. Posner wrote in 1991 that her apartment contained a Goering family crest and many portraits of her mother and father.

This article originally appeared in <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/03/13/obituaries/edda-goering-dies.html" id="7e9a1fa5-7b36-3dd6-a29a-11dede4ef91b">The New York Times</a>.

Edda Goering was practically a princess of the Third Reich. As the only daughter of Hermann Goering, the leader of the Luftwaffe and Adolf Hitler’s right-hand man and potential successor, Goering was a national celebrity from the day she was born.

Edda Goering, Unrepentant Daughter of Hermann, Dies at 80

His death was confirmed by his daughter, Hélène Loussier Oziouls Toulouse. His son Julien said the cause was complications of a degenerative disease.

Loussier was classically trained, but he had dabbled in jazz improvisation for years when he formed the Jacques Loussier Trio in 1959. The other members were drummer Christian Garros, who had played with Django Reinhardt, and bassist Pierre Michelot, who had recorded with Miles Davis.

The trio played recognizable Bach melodies or pieces, like “Air on a G String” and the Prelude No. 1 in C, then took flight into bebop improvisations. They quickly found a devoted audience and released a popular series of albums on Decca under the overall title “Play Bach” beginning in the early 1960s.

Many critics bridled at the idea of jazzing up the work of Bach. John Rockwell of The New York Times, reviewing a performance at Carnegie Hall in 1975, wrote that he was “actively appalled by the very notion of ‘popularizing’ Bach — or any classical composer, for that matter.”

“Mostly,” Rockwell continued, the trio “stuck too close to Bach for jazz and too close to cocktail/salon jazz for satisfaction.”

In 2002, Loussier told the British newspaper The Independent that such criticism did not bother him. “Bach himself,” he noted, “was improvising on these pieces for many years.”

Other critics were more positive about Loussier’s playful style, including Robert Sherman, who reviewed another Carnegie Hall performance by the trio in The Times in 1966.

“Mr. Loussier is a man with a fertile imagination, excellent musical instincts (given the basic premise of his transcriptions) and a powerhouse technique,” Sherman wrote. “The snippets he played ‘straight,’ or reasonably so, showed flair and intelligence, and even when poor old Bach was left far behind, Mr. Loussier’s volatile pianism was never less than compelling.”

The Jacques Loussier Trio broke up in the late 1970s, and Loussier went on to compose original works, including music for French films and television.

In 1985, the 300th anniversary of Bach’s birth, Loussier rebuilt the trio with André Arpino on percussion and Vincent Charbonnier on bass. The new trio embraced other composers in its jazz adaptations, including Satie, Debussy, Ravel, Vivaldi and Beethoven, and released more albums. His last new release, on the Telarc label, was a version of Schumann’s “Kinderszenen,” in 2011.

Loussier was born Oct. 26, 1934, in Angers, in western France, to Rene Loussier, who worked in a bank, and Marguerite (Duvat) Loussier, a homemaker. He started playing the piano at 10, and later said that his distinctive approach to Bach developed while he practiced the Prelude in G Minor.

“I played it 100 times or so,” he said. “Then one day I started to change the melody, then the left-hand harmonies. It was a natural instinct.”

He studied for a time at the National Conservatory of Paris.

“My fellow students would always ask me to play some Bach with my improvisations,” he said. “At that time, the Modern Jazz Quartet was doing this thing already: I heard them, and that gave me the idea to transform it with bass and drums.”

In 1959, the year the Jacques Loussier Trio released its first album, he married Sylvie de Tournemire. Their marriage ended in divorce. In 1998, he married Elizabeth Note.

In addition to his wife, with whom he lived in Cour-sur-Loire, France, and his son and daughter, Loussier is survived by three other sons, Thomas, Jean-Baptiste and Pierre; 13 grandchildren; and one great-grandchild.

In a case that brought Loussier renewed attention, he sued Eminem and Dr. Dre for $10 million in 2002, charging that they had used his music without credit. He asserted that “Kill You,” the first song on Eminem’s album “The Marshall Mathers LP” (2000), was suspiciously similar to one of his compositions, “Pulsion.”

Loussier said that he thought Eminem or Dr. Dre, who produced most of “The Marshall Mathers LP,” had heard a snippet of “Pulsion” that he had played on one of his Bach recordings and “thought it was Bach’s music, not mine.”

“So they used it without asking permission,” he continued. “If they had come to me, I would have accepted, and allowed them to use it for nothing, but they didn’t, which is not nice.”

The case was settled out of court.

This article originally appeared in <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/03/12/obituaries/jacques-loussier-dies.html" id="2ade0a16-3633-3e32-a29e-9fced3d454fe">The New York Times</a>.

Jacques Loussier, a French pianist who led a trio that performed jazzy interpretations of Johann Sebastian Bach, selling millions of albums and touring the world, died March 5 at a hospital in Blois, in France’s Loire Valley. He was 84.

Jacques Loussier, Pianist Who Jazzed Up Bach, Dies at 84

The cause was cardiac arrest, according to a death certificate released by the Buncombe County Register of Deeds. His death was not widely reported until Friday.

Vincent, who had electric blue eyes and a taut surfer’s physique, began acting in the late 1960s, appearing on television shows including “Bonanza,” “Lassie” and “Gunsmoke.” He later had lead roles in films like “The World’s Greatest Athlete” (1973) and “Buster and Billie” (1974).

He had a particularly nuanced turn in “White Line Fever” (1975), an action movie in which he played a truck driver who battles corruption.

“The rarity in an action picture of this kind is the quiet and sensitive acting of the two principals, Jan-Michael Vincent as the rebellious driver and Kay Lenz as his wife,” Richard Eder wrote in a review in The New York Times. “They manage tenderness, quarreling and weariness as these things really are managed.”

Vincent’s most recognizable part was the pilot Stringfellow Hawke on “Airwolf,” a CBS show built around a cutting-edge combat helicopter that made its debut in 1984. It was produced by Donald P. Bellisario, known for hit shows like “Magnum, P.I.,” and featured Ernest Borgnine as a veteran aviator and flight engineer who was Hawke’s surrogate father.

“Airwolf” was expensive to produce, and many critics received it coolly, but it found an audience and stayed on CBS for three seasons. Later news reports said Vincent was one of the most highly paid actors working at the time, making around $200,000 an episode.

Jan-Michael Vincent, who became nationally recognizable on the 1980s television series “Airwolf,” but whose career later foundered, in part because of problems with drugs and alcohol, died Feb. 10 at a hospital near his home in Asheville, North Carolina. He was 73.

Daniel E. Slotnik

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