Was more than saddened to hear the news today that Ron Phillips died recently. As Club Secretary of Queens Park Rangers FC, he had the habit of giving photo passes to aspiring young photographers, and printing their pics if they were decent. As one who benefited from this scheme, Ron had a massive influence on the trajectory of my career, and I will always be grateful for his kindness.
These pics were taken at the Baron's Court Theatre in 2015 when MP, MH & I interviewed Ron for a fanzine. I wonder if the memoir he showed us will ever be published - he certainly had some great QPR stories. Meanwhile, two particular contributions he made to the club history were the checkered programme covers and the removal of the apostrophe from the club's name. May he rest in peace, and my condolences to his family and friends.
Most famous for his best-selling album "Bat Out of Hell", singer Meatloaf's death was announced today. His style of music was not one I thought I liked. But each time I hear his song "Paradise by the Dashboard Light", I am instantly transported back 40 years ago to a journey from Zichron Yaakov to Eilat for a long weekend, 5 of us squashed in a tiny car with no A/C, and only one tape to play. Young and stupid and broke, we slept on the beach (until the rats arrived c. 4 am, followed soon after by the police to move us on), and on someone's porch. We enjoyed the sun and the sea and the World Cup football on tv. The trip concluded in the lobby of a fancy hotel where, with our last shekels combined, we ordered one milkshake and 5 straws. Driving back, hungry and sunburnt and still squashed in the back seat, I can still hear so very clearly the words from the car stereo: "I'm praying for the end of time, so I can end my time with you."
It took us a while to recover from that holiday! As I sit here now, listening to a Meatloaf mix on Spotify, this memory, filtered by time, comes back sweetly. I smile as I remember my friends and the fun we had together. And I notice that Meatloaf had a great voice. May he rest in peace.
Today marks the 5th anniversary of Lionel's death. The greatest tribute that I can pay him is that when speaking to people at the cemetery as we waited for his funeral to begin, it was clear that each one of us felt that we were his favourite, his spiritual child. And, being Lionel, maybe we all were. Missing him dearly, may he rest in peace.
Just heard the news that Stephen Sondheim has died. I feel sad. Others more expert than I will eulogise him. I have loved his work, and it's been with me most of my life. It first caught my ear with Gee Officer Krupke from West Side Story. For me, of course, it was mostly the words (Viz a Little Priest). Am now listening to Into the Woods, and later I think I will singalong to Side by Side by Sondheim.
When someone so eminent dies, the fans have their body of work to enjoy, as they always did. And since Sondheim was 91, there is an almost full spectrum. We are certainly sad that there will be no more, but it's not the same as knowing him. Of course, the deepest loss is for his family and friends. My condolences to them all.
I do, however, have one memory to share. In the days when I did theatre photocalls, I was at the Into the Woods shoot. We stood in the front rows of the stalls to take our pictures of the scenes they offered us. Then we packed up our stuff and went back out into the world. I was chatting to someone as I walked up the aisle. We passed a chap sitting in the back, and I smiled at him. He smiled back, the most charming and brilliant smile. I can still see it in my mind. As we left the theatre my colleague said to me, "do you know who that was?!" So, I am proud to say that I exchanged smiles with Stephen Sondheim. May he rest in peace.
One of the less happy exports to Italy but certainly one of England's greatest ever forwards and goalscorer. Jimmy Greaves has died. His playing career came to an end just before I became interested in football as a child, and I got to know him through his work as a pundit and from various video clips. I may not always have agreed with his perspective, but I usually enjoyed his presentation. My condolences to his loved ones and friends, and may he rest in peace.
a blog post by Richard Williams including this comment: "No one ever came up with a better phrase to describe Greaves's dominant characteristic than the late football writer John Moynihan, after watching Tottenham Hotspur play Slovan Bratislava in the quarter-final of the old European Cup Winners' Cup under the White Hart Lane floodlights on a spring night in 1963. Spurs won 6-0, 6-2 on aggregate, and Greaves scores with what Moynihan described as 'devastating nonchalance'."
Farewell Grange Calveley, creator of one of my favourite childhood tv cartoons, Roobarb. Also, Johnny Hawkesworth's theme tune was one of my top 5 favourites (have a listen here).
Sad to hear that the actor George Segal has died. From A Touch of Class to The Goldbergs, I greatly enjoyed his work in film and on tv. I met him once, when he came to visit my father to arrange his wedding to his second wife, Linda z"l. He sat in the big guest armchair in the front room and was charming and witty and discussed Torah with my dad. May he rest in peace. May all those who mourn him be consoled with the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.
We awoke this Rosh Hashanah morning here in Europe to the news that Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg died last night at the age of 87. She was at home in Washington DC, surrounded by her loved ones.
If you don't know what she achieved in her lifetime, please take a moment to read about her. To those who know, we had hoped that she might survive just a little longer so she might do just a little more. She fought with all her might, on so many levels. But now her struggle is over, and she rests in peace.
Jewish tradition teaches that one who dies on Rosh Hashanah is a righteous person, a tsaddik. We already knew that about Ruth Bader Ginsberg. As we wish that her memory will be for a blessing, it will only truly be so if we step up and continue her work. That is the best tribute we may offer as we mourn her loss.
With condolences to the family and dear ones who mourn their loss on a day that is supposed to be full of joy for Shabbat and the New Year.
Listening to and reading the myriad obituaries here in Italy and around the world for the director Franco Zeffirelli, I'm glad to see that many of them refer to "Jesus of Nazareth" (1977) as one of his best works. This is because both my parents were part of that production. My mother, Evelyn, was part of the post-production voice talent. My father, Albert, was invited to the film set to train the young actor playing a teenage Jesus for a scene in which he would become Bar Mitzvah. This became one of our favourite stories to tell:
After first informing Signor Zeffirelli that the ceremony of becoming Bar Mitzvah only originated in the Middle Ages, and upon hearing that the scene would still be filmed, Albert set about his task, i.e., to teach a young Italian boy to say the blessings required for reading Torah. The moment came to shoot this particular scene, and Albert stood nearby as the student began his recitation of the ancient Hebrew words. The boy stumbled, and the director shouted, "CUT!" He turned furiously towards the rabbi. "But, Franco," Albert said, "every Jewish boy makes a mistake on the day of his Bar Mitzvah." "Not," replied Zeffirelli, "NOT when he is the son of God!"
Ursula K Le Guin has died. One of my all-time favourite writers, and shaper of my teenage political conscience through her novel "The Dispossessed", I also loved her novels about a young man who discovers he is a wizard and goes to wizard school!
I just learned that Ursula K. Le Guin has died. Her words are always with us. Some of them are written on my soul. I miss her as a glorious funny prickly person, & I miss her as the deepest and smartest of the writers, too. Still honoured I got to do this: vimeo.com/112654091
My FB feed is filling up with tributes to Gene Wilder, whose death at the age of 83 has just been announced. Whether you loved him as the original Willy Wonka, or at the centre of a film by Mel Brooks; as the first and best Leo in "The Producers", or running amok with Richard Pryor, for so many of my generation this news is sad.
I am particularly fond of "The Frisco Kid", and am surprised how few people know of this film (also featuring Harrison Ford when I was most attracted to his charms, i.e., about a year before "The Empire Strikes Back" (see especially 2:10) ). Wilder plays a Polish rabbi travelling through the Wild Wild West. Here's my favourite scene:
My friend & classmate Geoff Dennis highlighted this clip about in what kind of God the rabbi character believes :-)
Here are some other links to the first responses to Wilder's death (and later obits also):
Here's a most popular clip of Wilder with Peter Boyle in "Young Frankenstein", singing and dancing to Irving Berlin's "Putting on the Ritz".
Something about his early years from the NY Times:
"Gene Wilder was born Jerome Silberman in Milwaukee on June 11, 1933. His father, William, a manufacturer and salesman of novelty items, was an immigrant from Russia. His mother, the former Jeanne Baer, suffered from rheumatic heart disease and a temperament that sometimes led her to punish him angrily and then smother him with regretful kisses.
Young Jerry spent one semester at the Black-Foxe Military Institute in Hollywood. His mother saw it as a great opportunity; in reality, it was a catch basin for boys from broken families, where he was regularly beaten up for being Jewish.
Safely back home after that misadventure, he played minor roles in community theater production s and then followed his older sister, Corinne, into the theater program at the University of Iowa. After Iowa, he studied Shakespeare at the Bristol Old Vic Theater School in England, where he was the first freshman to win the school fencing championship.
He next enrolled part time at the HB Studio in New York, while also serving a two-year Army hitch as an aide in the psychiatric unit of the Valley Forge Army Hospital in Pennsylvania - an assignment he requested because, he said, "I imagined the things I would see there might relate more to acting than any of the other choices." He added, "I wasn't wrong."
After his discharge, he won a coveted spot at the Actors Studio, and it was then that he adopted the name Gene Wilder: Gene for Eugene Gant, the protagonist of Thomas Wolfe's "Look Homeward, Angel," and Wilder for the playwright Thornton Wilder."
Wilder lived a long life, and has left a body of work that will continue to make us laugh and cry (but mostly laugh). I suspect that a lot of this initial mourning is for our own youth, and the memories that this death evokes. Sending condolences to his family and friends, and may his memory be for a blessing.
Our hearts are full of sadness, but our incredible aunt Dorrit F Friedlander is in pain no more. The obituary that we posted said:
"Dorrit F Friedlander 88, of Appleton passed away at her home on Thursday, November 14, 2013 surrounded by love. She was born in Berlin, Germany on June 11, 1925 to Alex and Sali Friedlander. Dorrit was a beloved aunt, friend and teacher, and sister to Albert z"l and Charles z"l. She is survived by her nieces Rabbi Ariel J Friedlander (Liora) of London, Michal S Friedlander (Daniel) of Berlin and Noam I A Friedlander of Los Angeles; great-niece Orlia Friedlander Ben Hur; sisters-in-law Evelyn Friedlander and Tressie Friedlander; nephew Mark Friedlander and great-nephew Chase Sanderford; cousins: Miriam Baruch and family; Steven Kilston, Vera, Lyra and Rigel; foster cousin Bernard Danzig, and Hermann Balaban.
A funeral will be held on Sunday, November 17, 2013 at 11:00 am at Brettschneider Trettin Nickel Funeral Chapel. Friends may visit the family from 10 am Sunday until the time of service. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Dorrit Friedlander Scholarship Fund at Lawrence University. With gratitude for the wonderful care and support given by dear friends and the staff at Rennes Rehab Center."
Another incredible and unsung heroine has died. Maureen Dunlop de Popp was an aviatrix par excellence. During the Second World War she was one of a pioneering group of women who flew the latest fighter and bomber aircraft with the Air Transport Auxiliary. The Telegraph obituary notes:
"With all ATA pilots flying the same aircraft and facing the same risks, Sir Stafford Cripps arranged that the female pilots should receive equal pay with their male colleagues and this small group of women rightly considered themselves as pioneers of sex equality. Many, including Maureen Dunlop, wished that they could have flown in combat, but this was considered a step too far and was forbidden. 'I thought it was the only fair thing,' she remarked. 'Why should only men be killed?'
She was one of 164 female pilots and, during her 3 years with the ATA, she flew 38 different types of aircraft, among them the Spitfire, Mustang, Typhoon and the Wellington bomber."
There are and were so many unknown female flyers. Most people may have heard of Amelia Earhart. Some might have heard of Amy Johnson. I know my friend Emily's mother Carla. However, the only way interest in their lives might be engendered is if a major tv network created a smash hit series based on their lives. Any takers?
Many people will no doubt express their sadness at the news just in that the writer and illustrator Maurice Sendak has died. It is always sad when a creative talent leaves our world. Read, however, his point of view as reported in the Times last year:
"On the sun-dappled road, Sendak’s mood is far from bucolic. “I think the whole world stinks: everything is decaying, the lack of culture depresses me most. I’m happy that my career is over and I can do what I like. I don’t want to be part of anything. I like where I live, what I read; I’m still doing my books, people are still purchasing them.” Is he happy? “Who’s happy? What does that mean? Of course I’m not, I’ve nothing to be happy about. I can’t complain about my life, I’m just a little bit nervous about how it’s going to end.” Does he think about dying? “Constantly, constantly. It’s time to go, it’s time to get the f*** out — it really is — but look how pretty it is here.”
His family and friends have died (only his sister Natalie lived beyond 83). “I’m old enough to die. I despise religion in all forms, so I have no hope of an afterlife. If I saw my mother and father again, I think I’d kill myself.” We both laugh at the idea of killing yourself when you’re dead. “I will be nothing and nowhere, and that will be such a relief. To be something and somewhere is very tiring: the good times are so few.” However, Sendak has found depression “an awful waste of time” and alleviated it by reading, walking and listening to music (Mozart, Haydn and Gluck are favourites)."
If you have a subscription to the Times, you may read the whole article here. We will miss him. I hope he's surprised by what happens next!
I had never heard of Christine Brooke-Rose, but upon reading her obit I was amused by this description of the plot of her novel Xorandor:
"Xorandor, for example, concerns a sort of sentient silicon pebble which overdoses on Caesium, becomes convinced it is Lady Macbeth and threatens to destroy the world. The work is narrated in the form of an invented technological slang dialogue between a pair of twins and their computer."
Reason #47 why I love to read obituaries in the Daily Telegraph - paragraphs like this:
"Her performance in the play certainly impressed Aleister Crowley, the notorious diabolist, who sent her six lines of doggerel in appreciation, ending “A young thing stole the show away/Her dulcet name is Dulcie Gray”. She wrote a brief letter of thanks but lived to regret it when he invited her to be sacrificed as a virgin at dawn in a midsummer rite at Stonehenge. With tongue firmly in cheek, she sent her regrets on the grounds that she disliked getting up early; Aleister Crowley bothered her no more."
Early this morning, in a California hospital, Debbie Friedman breathed her last. For most of us, she is as alive as ever she was through the music she wrote that we listen to and sing. We shall always have that. To the people who really knew her - her family, and her friends; they mourn a grievous loss. May they be consoled with the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem. And, as my friend Halima said: "inna lillah wa inna ilayhi raji'un" (we belong to God, and to God is our return).
Many of my friends are currently sharing their memories of Debbie. Although I met her a couple of times, and attended many of her concerts, I do not have a eulogising anecdote. What comes to mind is that she attended the Limmud Conference at the University of Warwick last month. I was there for a day, and in a spare moment considered going to one of her workshops. I was, however, exhausted, and decided to catch her next time. No next time now. So, in the words of Horace,"Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero – Seize the Day, putting as little trust as possible in the future."
Pauls of the world are in mourning, as Paul the Psychic Octopus is dead. The obvious question: did he see it coming? Sadly, we shall never know. The Guardian reported:
"Stefan Porwoll, the manager of the Oberhausen Sea Life Centre in Germany that the tentacled psychic called home, said Paul appeared to have died peacefully of natural causes during the night. "We are consoled by the knowledge that he enjoyed a good life here and that the care provided him by our dedicated displays team could not have been bettered," Porwoll said. (He continued), "We may decide to give Paul his own small burial plot within our grounds and erect a modest permanent shrine.""
