Many rivers and everyday people

Death had a good year these past 12 months; I mean a really good year. Here are a few of the notable people who joined its ranks.

In January, Jean-Marie Le Pen finally took his vile, racist self to the underworld, although the his daughter Marine is carrying on his work in France. No indication of cause of death; my guess is that at age 96, the excess of bile finally did its work.

Filmmaker David Lynch, 78, died of cardiac arrest. He left a wide range of artistic achievements as his legacy—from Eraserhead and The Elephant Man to Blue Velvet, Wild at Heart and Dune. There’s also the entire Twin Peaks franchise. Damn fine cherry pie.

Folk Icon Peter Yarrow died of bladder cancer, age 86. As one third of Peter, Paul and Mary, Yarrow provided the background music for millions of boomers and probably gen X-ers; they were everywhere, including at protests—for civil rights, against the Vietnam War. I could give you a thousand songs that PP&M made their own, but let’s have “Puff, The Magic Dragon”, which Yarrow wrote.

Baseball fans said farewell to Bob Uecker, 90, who’d been facing down small-cell lung cancer for two years. Uecker played catcher before he spent 54 years calling the Milwaukee Brewers’ games on radio. Even I heard him a couple of times.

Dame Joan Plowright, 95, took a final curtain call. No cause given. Her career in stage and screen was long and distinguished. Among her accomplishments was her ability to stay married to Laurence Olivier for nearly 30 years, until his death in 1981. I only knew her in her later performances, but let me just say that no one could deliver the line, “Well, really!” like Plowright.

Cecile Richards, 67, succumbed to glioblastoma in January. She had a long career in labor organizing, activism for reproductive protection and women’s rights. Exactly as you’d expect from the daughter of Ann Richards.

More music drifted out of the world when Marianne Faithfull died at age 78; she’d been facing multiple health issues. How she managed to get such power out of that seemingly little voice, I do not know, but here’s an example.

In February, novelist Tom Robbins, 92, died. I’ve got to admit, I never read any of his works, but he was big and influential when I was in college. I mean—his books were everywhere.

The circumstances of the deaths of actor Gene Hackman, 95, and his wife, artist Betsy Arakawa, 65, struck me as horrifying. Hackman died from heart disease and his wife from hantavirus, but they were isolated from their neighbors and from each other (Hackman was also suffering from dementia). I don’t like to think about their dog.

Roberta Flack was another of the music strains of my youth. She died at 88 from ALS, a cruel end to someone who brought joy to so many with her talent. Let’s think of her “Killing Me Softly” instead.

One of my personal heroes also died this year—Joseph Wambagh, 88, from esophageal cancer. I wrote one of only two fan letters in my life to him (the other was to Ken Ringle, of The Washington Post), after reading The Glitter Dome. That guy could write a sentence like Reginald Hill—rip you up at one end and console your grief at the other.

In March, politician Alan Simpson died at 93. He served as senator from Wyoming for nearly 20 years. As Republicans go, he was about middle-of-the-road in his sanctimonious sourness.

The chess world lost a grand champion in Boris Spassky, who died aged 88. If you didn’t live through the Cold War, his importance might not strike you, but the West competed with the Soviets in everything, and his match against US master Bobby Fischer in Iceland in 1972 reverberated throughout the world, largely due to Fischer’s antics. Spassky’s loss put him in the Soviet doghouse. He recovered his mojo a year later, fell in love, married and moved to Paris. He played Fischer again, in 1992, in Yugoslavia. He lost again, but he displayed much more grace and generosity than Fischer ever did.

Sports writer John Feinstein died of an apparent heart attack; he was 69. I used to listen to his weekly segments on NPR’s Morning Edition; he had a joyous way of talking about all manner of sports that made me almost want to follow some of them.

Boxer and entrepreneur George Foreman died at 76; no cause given. I confess, I’m not much of a boxing fan, but Foreman was certainly good at it—two heavyweight championships and an Olympic gold medal. I really like his grill, though.

Sixties heartthrob and king of the miniseries Richard Chamberlain died from complications of a stroke. He was 90. As an actor, he didn’t have what you might call range, but his good looks and mellifluous voice took him a long way. I got a kick out of seeing him as recurring character Archie Leach on the TV show Leverage, where his charm played well into the plots.

Actor Val Kilmer’s was the first death recorded in April. He died of pneumonia at age 65. A life-long Christian Scientist, he had been diagnosed with throat cancer 10 years ago; he struggled with how to approach that, eventually undergoing chemotherapy and surgeries. As an actor, Kilmer was splashy and testosterone-infused; I’m thinking his Doc Holliday in Tombstone and Iceman in Top Gun, but he could also do quirky and goofy (Real Genius, Top Secret!). And, of course—Batman. My guilty secret is his whirlwind performance in The Saint. And he’ll always be my Huckleberry.

Former cardinal Theodore McCarrick died at 94; dunno the cause, but he lived way too long. He was dismissed and laicized by Pope Francis in 2018—finally—after years of reports of sexual misconduct, at least throughout his tenure as Archbishop of Washington, D.C. Man, the Roman Catholic Church has a problem the with the breadth and stench of the Augean Stables.

Actor and writer Jean Marsh died from complications from dementia; she was 90. We in the US were first introduced to her in the 1970s British TV import Upstairs, Downstairs, which she co-created, also appearing as the housemaid Rose Buck. Basically a finite (although quite lengthy) soap opera, U-D told the stories of the skivvies and footman with as much attention as those of the snoots and toffs. It was quite the concept. Marsh went on to a long career on the stage, in front of the camera and on the page. She suffered a stroke in 2011, which effectively ended her career.

You may not know the name Jay North, but he played comic strip child terror Dennis the Menace in the eponymous TV series in the 1960s. His career didn’t transition to adulthood, and in fact he revealed years later that his aunt physically and verbally abused him during his Dennis run, so it’s really not surprising. Later in life he worked with another former child star, Paul Petersen, in an organization supporting children in show business. He died from colorectal cancer, age 74.

Game show host Wink Martindale died of lymphoma at 91. He had a career as a disc jockey and radio host before he moved to TV, but honestly—he had the perfect face to host game shows. Kind of bland, but big, toothy smile.

Pope Francis, the first Jesuit and Latin American to hold the Holy See, was 88. Francis was an absolute game changer at the Vatican, and precisely was the Church needed after both John Paul II and Benedict XVI. When you consider what strength of will it takes to turn a ship weighted down with calcified cardinals and centuries of Machiavellian operations, I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did. He died of stroke, just a few hours after suffering a visit from JD Vance.

Virginia Giuffre, 41, committed suicide at her home in Australia. She was one of the most outspoken victims of sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein, and it cost her dearly. One of the perpetrators she called out, in addition to Epstein, was the Andrew Windsor-Mountbatten formerly known as prince. That caused some upset in the king’s brother’s life, but nothing like what Giuffre suffered.

May saw the death of Ruth Buzzi, 88, from Alzheimer’s Disease. An actor, singer and comedian, she was one of the anchors of the TV variety show Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In, from 1968 to 1973. That show was so funny, I used to try to write down some of the jokes to tell my boss at my after-school job in the Children’s Room of the Pasadena Public Library. But a lot of Buzzi’s comedy was physical, so you had to watch it. Her standard character was the frumpy spinster Gladys Ormphby; here she is paired with the dirty old man, played by Arte Johnson.

Former Associate Justice of the Supreme Court David Souter was probably relieved to leave the earthly bench, after watching the shenanigans of the Roberts SCOTUS for the past five years. Sad and disgusted, but relieved he didn’t have to see further perversion of the Constitution by rightwing hacks. Souter was appointed by Bush 42; he voted with the moderate wing, when there was still such a thing. He was 85 at time of death; no cause was given.

Closing credits also ran on screenwriter and director Robert Benton, 92. Benton co-wrote Bonnie and Clyde in 1967; wrote and directed Kramer vs. Kramer in 1979; and wrote Places in the Heart in 1984. These are such extraordinarily different films; they demonstrate Benton’s storytelling range. (Of course—he also wrote 1970’s What’s Up, Doc?, so no one’s perfect.) No cause was given for his death, but he was 92, so…

TV barfly George Wendt, 76, placed his last order, due to cardiac arrest with underlying causes. But by that time, he’d carved an entire career on being one of the smart-assed regulars at Cheers, the bar where everyone knows your name. In fact, millions and millions of people knew his name.

If you live outside the Virginia 11^th Congressional District or aren’t a political wonk, you may not know the name Gerry Connolly, who died at age 75. He was diagnosed with esophageal cancer in November 2024, immediately after being re-elected to his eighth term in Congress. At the time, he announced that he’d stay in office while undergoing treatment. In April, he updated his constituents to say that the cancer was (essentially) winning, so he wouldn’t run for re-election again in 2027. A month later, he was dead, leaving the district unrepresented until Republican governor Fleecevest finally called a special election for September. I got no squawk with how Connolly represented us while he was alive; he was an effective machine politician and his views mostly aligned with mine. What absolutely eats my lunch is him acting like his office was an entitlement so that he literally died in it rather than give it up. We bloody need term limits.

Speaking of machine politicians, Charles Wrangel (D-NY) represented Harlem in Congress for 46 years. He was an original member of the Congressional Black Caucus and served on the (once) powerful Ways & Means Committee (among others). He was censured over ethics issues in 2010 for things that Republicans now consider perks of the job. He retired in 2018.

Actress Loretta Swit died (no cause given) at 87. She probably never got past her casting as Major Margaret “Hot Lips” Houlihan on the TV series M*A*S*H, which ran from 1972 to 1983. Over the course of the series, the writers and producers humanized her character, but it must have been hard to play a caricature for as long as she did. Fun fact: In 1981, Swit played the role of Detective Christine Cagney in the pilot for the breakthrough female cop buddies series Cagney & Lacey. But the ongoing role eventually went to Sharen Gless, due to Swit’s contractual obligations to M*A*S*H. An animal rights activist, she was a vegetarian for a long time before going vegan in 1981.

In June, rock musician, songwriter and producer Sly Stone died, age 82, from COPD. He was critical to the development of psychedelic, soul and funk. He was front man for Sly and the Family Stone from the late 60s to early 70s, but the band fell apart partly due to Stone’s erratic behavior. He went solo, joined with some other groups, got arrested for cocaine possession; he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1993. There are a lot of Stone’s hits I could play for you, but I’m going with “Everyday People” because…the message is appropriate for right now. 

Novelist Frederick Forsyth died in June as well. He was 96; no cause given. His breakout book, The Day of the Jackal, was literally one of those books you have to read in one sitting because you can’t stand not to know what happens on the next page. Forsyth came to writing after working as a journalist. His Conservative Party affiliations did not in any respect get in the way of telling a ripping good story; Queen Elizabeth II appointed him CBE in 1997.

As part of an alleged political assassination, Minnesota state representative Melissa Hortman, 55, and her husband Mark, 58, were fatally shot in their home. Their golden retriever Gilbert was also killed in the attack by a RWNJ who also shot (but not killed) fellow Democrat John Hoffman and his wife Yvette in their home in front of their young daughter. The alleged murderer was captured while outside his fourth Democratic target’s house. He is being charged in state court, but you can bet that there’ll be a presidential pardon waiting at the end of his trial, if convicted. Doing the lord’s work, you know.

Beach Boy frontman, songwriter and producer Brian Wilson died from respiratory arrest (with underlying causes) at 82. Like Flack; Faithfull, Peter Paul and Mary; and Stone, the Beach Boys formed the soundtrack of my childhood and youth. Wilson struggled with mental illness and periodically had to pull away from Beach Boy concerts. In the 1980s he went solo; his work has influenced many pop movements, including the California sound, psychedelia, progressive and punk. I’m giving you the iconic “Good Vibrations”, from 1966 to remember him by.

Seventies teenage heartthrob Bobby Sherman died of kidney cancer. He was 81. TBH, I can’t recall a single one of his pop hits, just his run as one of the three brothers running a sawmill in nineteenth century Seattle on the TV show Here Come the Brides. None of the principals would give Olivier competition, but they were mostly easy on the eye.

Bill Moyers died from complications of prostate cancer at age 91. He served LBJ as White House Press Secretary and then Chief of Staff, bookending those stints as a journalist. He was in the Walter Cronkite mode of steady observer and trusted reporter; he played a critical role in the founding of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, which—as of time of writing—seems to be our last best hope of journalistic integrity. Moyers’ career went from cub reporter at age 16 to hosting a podcast; he was all about informing us.

Composer Lalo Schifrin, 93, died from pneumonia. The general public probably knows him best for his film and TV scores. If you’ve seen any of the Mission: Impossible franchises, that theme music is his. Born in Argentina, his music basically made him a global phenomenon.

Grifter, charlatan and hypocrite Jimmy Swaggert was unconscious for 17 days from a heart attack before cardiac arrest finally took him out. I’m surprised there was an actual heart involved, considering the way the TV evangelist swindled thousands of his flock out of millions of dollars while he frolicked with prostitutes and consorted with terrorist-adjacent organizations. He was 90. I cannot imagine what God was thinking letting him live so long; perhaps it was to keep him at a distance.

And here we are in July, when singer and actress Connie Francis died from pneumonia at 87. One of the best-selling music artists in history, her career ran off the rails during the 70s and 80s, after a rape attack at knifepoint, but she worked courageously to regain it, performing from 1989 until her retirement in 2018. That woman had a set of pipes—have a listen of “Who’s Sorry Now?” 

Malcolm-Jamal Warner drowned while on vacation in Costa Rica; he was 54. Perhaps best known as Theo, the son in the 80s-90s sitcom, The Cosby Show, he pretty much grew up in front of the American audience (which was huge); he also turned his hand to directing, music and poetry. I very much enjoyed him in the recurring role of a lieutenant of the LAPD Special Investigations Section on Major Crimes. It was kind of hard not to see him as Theo, but he was a fine actor, and 54 is too young.

Hulk Hogan took his last body slam at 71. Interestingly, he apparently had a heart, because the cause of death was heart attack. Possibly related to decades of assisted musculature.

Chuck Mangione—man, I just can’t. No cause given, age 84. He was the soundtrack for my college years. Listen to “Chase the Clouds Away”. 

Heavy metal pioneer Ozzy Osbourne also died, age 76, from a heart attack. Co-founder and lead vocalist of Black Sabbath, he was known as the Prince of Darkness and famous for biting the head off a bat an audience member had tossed on stage during a performance in 1982. Osbourne made it through that career and launched a 21^st Century offshoot as a reality TV star, with his wife Joan shepherding him through it all.

Songwriter and satirist Tom Lehrer died at age 97; no cause given. Lehrer’s heyday in the pop world peaked in the 50s and 60s. I only knew about him in an ancillary fashion, because my parents weren’t on the intellectual left of the spectrum, and I was more of a Stan Freburg girl. But I came to enjoy him when his songs popped up as retro in my adulthood. As an example, his homage to Wernher von Braun is one of those evergreen observations, and particularly apt in our current climate of politicians, businessmen and some scientists going along to get along. 

Ah, Loni Anderson. Her receptionist in the sitcom WKRP in Cincinnati anchored the show, which ran from 1978 to 1982. She was known after WKRP largely for her relationship with Burt Reynolds, but I also remember her for the detective show Partners in Crime, with her and Linda Carter playing the two ex-wives of a dead private eye who take over his business. They were great together. Cause of death was metastatic uterine leiomyosarcoma; she was 79.

Terrence Stamp died (no cause given) at age 87. He burst onto the American film scene as the angelic sailor in 1962’s Billy Budd; he followed that up with The Collector, which I saw as a kid, and I shouldn’t have. He played archvillain General Zod in two of the Superman films in the 70s; then as a crossdressing entertainer roving the Outback in The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. (A sequel to Priscilla is to be released soon.) His range was phenomenal.

Astronaut Jim Lovell was 97 when he died. Lovell commanded the Apollo 13 mission that might have ended in disaster in 1970. Lovell’s training as a Navy test pilot may have had something to do with his sang froid. He flew several Gemini and Apollo missions before 13, but none after. After retirement from the Navy, he spent years as a telecoms exec and then ran a restaurant in Chicago.

In September, we lost First Nations actor Graham Greene, after “a lengthy illness”. He was 73. He was nominated for a best supporting Oscar for Dances with Wolves, and his career extended from 1976 to this year. As far as I’m concerned, he absolutely stole Thunderheart from Val Kilmer.

You may not know the name Joseph McNeil, but at age 17 he was one of the four Black students whose 1960 sit-in at a Greensboro, N.C., Woolworth’s lunch counter in defiance of the establishment’s “Whites Only” policy set off a firestorm. It took them six months of returning every day before the dime store agreed to serve them. Their perseverance reinvigorated the Civil Rights movement and reverberated around the country. After graduating in 1963, he served in the Air Force and later worked in finance and as a safety official with the FAA. He died from Parkinson’s disease at age 83.

Entitled white nationalist christofascist Charlie Kirk died at age 31. Cause was a high-powered rifle shot fired while he was on one of his public grifts at a college campus in Utah. His widow Erika is carrying on for him, sharing her grief with anyone who will listen, with special attention to JD Vance, whom she has endorsed for president in 2028.

Actress Claudia Cardinale died at age 87. One of the quintessential sex symbols of the 60s, she made more than 175 movies, mostly in Italy and France; genres spanned comedy, drama, spaghetti westerns and historical epics. She worked with directors like Werner Herzog, Sergio Leone and Federico Fellini.

Actor, writer, director, producer, environmentalist, activist and icon Robert Redford died at age 89; no cause given. I don’t even know what to say, except that he and Paul Newman must be livening things up in Heaven.

In October, primatologist and anthropologist Jane Goodall died from cardiac arrest. She was 91. Before she even finished her academic training, Goodall’s research among chimpanzees demonstrated that they share many key traits with humans, including using tools, having complex emotions, creating lasting social bonds, engaging in organized warfare and passing on knowledge across generations. From that starting point, she continued researching, observing and informing and was still working at her death.

Public radio pioneer Susan Stamberg died at age 81; no cause given. She was the first woman to anchor a national nightly news program (“All Things Considered”) and considered one of the “founding mothers” of NPR. When you heard her voice coming out of your radio, you both perked up and settled in for a story you knew was going to be both informative and personal. She interviewed everyone, from Rosa Parks to Dave Brubeck. I gotta say that I did not cotton to her mother-in-law’s recipe for cranberry relish, but I was down with everything else. Stamberg retired from NPR in September, a month before her death.

Actress Diane Keaton died at age 79 from pneumonia after a career that started in 1968 and continued until last year. The Godfather and its sequels would not have had the impact they did without her performance as Kay Adams. She was pivotal to many Woody Allen films (I’m not a fan; I may be the only person in the United States to not see Annie Hall) and handled both drama and comedy with aplomb. Starting with Annie Hall, Keaton also developed a unique fashion look, which drew heavily from thrift stores. On her, it all looked fab.

Quintessential 50s and 60s TV mom June Lockhart died at 100. From the Lassie family to the Lost in Space Robinson family, Lockhart knew best. Later on, she was the local doctor on Petticoat Junction. Earlier, she was in some classic films, including Meet Me in St. Louis and Sergeant York.

In November, Pauline Collins died at age 85; she had been suffering from Parkinson’s disease. Collins originated the role of Shirley Valentine—a middle-aged working-class housewife who narrates her life before and after a seismic holiday—on stage and later played it in the film. Her career spanned films and TV, as well as theatre, for 60 years, from 1957. If you have not seen Quartet, directed by Dustin Hoffman and also starring Maggie Smith, Michael Gambon, Tom Courtnay and Billy Connolly, find it and watch it.

Rightwing politician Dick Cheney finally, finally died. He was 84 and cause is listed as cardiac arrest with underlying cardiac and vascular issues. Whether it was as Wyoming’s sole Representative, as SecDef under Bush 41 or vice president to Bush 43, Cheney worked assiduously for the military-industrial complex that Eisenhower warned us against, ensuring that companies like Halliburton never suffered a lean year when it was possible to send our sons and daughters to die somewhere. I expect he’s having quite the chin-wag with Kissinger in Hell.

Jamaican musician and songwriter Jimmy Cliff died at age 81; no cause given. Cliff mastered the genres of ska, rocksteady, reggae and soul. You need to hear his “Many Rivers to Cross”, because it’s so timely.  

Jamil Abdullah Al-Amin died in federal prison from cancer at age 82. You might know him as H. Rap Brown, civil rights leader, Muslim cleric, Student Non-violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) organizer and Black Panther Party minister of justice. He was serving a life sentence for murder following the shooting of two Fulton County, Ga., sheriff’s deputies in 2000. A long way from SNCC.

Playwright and screenwriter Tom Stoppard died at 88; no cause given. Starting with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (1966), he explored ideas and emotions, probing his own family history, for nearly 60 years. Some of his screenplays include Empire of the Sun (a masterpiece), Brazil and Shakespeare in Love. I’m sorry I didn’t get to see Leopoldstadt when it came to a local theatre—based on his own family history, it looked like it would be powerful, which a friend who did see it confirmed.

And in December, one of the giants of 20^th Century architecture died at age 96; cause of death for Frank Gehry was respiratory illness. You can look at his Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao or the Walt Disney Concert Hall in LA for examples of his aesthetic. In addition to buildings, he designed furniture, jewelry, liquor bottles and other products.

Jo Ann Allen Boyce died at 84 from pancreatic cancer. In 1956, she and 11 other Black children broke the segregation barrier by entering a high school in Clinton, Tenn. The kind of courage it took to do that is unimaginable. President Eisenhower sent in the National Guard to protect them from whites, an entirely different type of deployment from what we’re seeing now. The threats were so bad that at the end of the school year, Boyce’s family moved to Los Angeles to get away from them. She had a long career as a pediatric nurse. The high school she integrated was destroyed by a bomb in 1958 and rebuilt two years later.

The deaths of actor, writer, director, producer, activist and mensch Rob Reiner, 78, and his wife, photographer Michelle Singer, 68, are fresh enough in our memory. They were murdered and one of their children has been charged with the crime. All I need to say is that their memory is a blessing.

Journalist Peter Arnett died age 91. A consummate reporter, Arnett covered everything from the Vietnam War (where he won a 1966 Pulitzer Prize), through the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan to the Gulf War, where his reporting from Bagdad for CNN captured the world’s attention. After retirement from field reporting, he taught journalism in China.

Betty Reid Soskin, once the oldest US Park Ranger, died at 104; no cause given, but she was 104. Her career—actually, her whole life—was an expression of curiosity, joy and determination. In her youth, she founded Reid’s Records in Berkeley, Calif., dated Jackie Robinson and was a bag lady for the Black Panthers, among other things. She worked in a Jim Crow segregated union hall in Richmond, Calif., in WWII, experienced redlining when trying to buy her first house in Berkeley and lived in a racially hostile Walnut Creek. Experiences like these formed the core of the stories she told visitors to the Rosie the Riveter/WWII Home Front National Historical Park (in Richmond) for the 15 years she worked there. She retired in 2022 from the Park Service, after having suffered a stroke on the job in 2019.

Brigitte Bardot, the sexpot of the 50s, died at age 91; no cause given. Bardot’s free-spirited and uninhibited sexuality upset a whole lot of people for a number of years. Then, as she moved into animal activism and, lately, right-wing causes, she upset a whole different set of people.

As of time of writing, the last notable death for 2025 is that of Khaleda Zia, Bangladesh’s first female prime minister. She was 79. Zia had a long career in Bangladeshi politics; she served as prime minister from 2001 to 2006.

And, crap…one more: Tatiana Schlossberg, environmental journalist and daughter of Caroline Kennedy, died yesterday at 35. Cause was a rare mutation of leukemia, which was only diagnosed last year, after the birth of her daughter. That daughter and her two-year-old brother are among the survivors. 

Reader—this is a lot of death, and I’m sure I missed a bunch. It took me two days straight to compile this. As noted at the top, the scythe harvested a bumper crop, and yet not the one to which we most look forward. On to 2026.

 

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