Archive for the ‘History’ Category

Obit watch: January 4, 2023.

Wednesday, January 4th, 2023

Walter Cunningham, Apollo 7 astronaut. NASA.

Mr. Cunningham, a physicist and a former Marine pilot, joined with Capt. Walter M. Schirra Jr. of the Navy and Maj. Donn F. Eisele of the Air Force on a virtually flawless 11-day mission in October 1968. They completed 163 orbits of the Earth (four and a half million miles) in a reconstructed space capsule with many safety modifications and became the first NASA astronauts to appear on television from space.

Apollo 7 — which blasted off on Oct. 11, 1968, following unmanned Apollo flights in the wake of the disastrous fire — passed its maneuverability and reliability tests. The capsule rendezvoused with an orbiting stage of the Saturn 1-B rocket that had sent it into space, indicating that it would have no trouble docking with a lunar module that would carry two astronauts from the capsule to the moon and back. The Apollo 7 astronauts, who comprised NASA’s first three-man crew, also successfully tested an engine in the rear of their capsule designed to put the spacecraft into and out of lunar orbit on a future mission.
And for the first time, astronauts carried a camera providing TV images. They demonstrated how they could float in their weightless environment in what became known as “The Wally, Walt and Donn Show,” and they put together a hand-lettered sign that said, “Hello From the Lovely Apollo Room, High Atop Everything.”
There was a problem, though: Captain Schirra had a heavy head cold, Major Eisele had a lesser cold and Mr. Cunningham, as he would later recall, felt “a little blah.” NASA feared that the colds could result in the bursting of eardrums as the astronauts returned to Earth.
They were, in fact, just fine when they splashed down some 325 miles south of Bermuda, less than a mile off target. Their mission was so successful that Apollo 8 orbited the moon, another important prelude to the moon landing in July 1969.
But Apollo 7 had its blemishes. It would be remembered for Captain Schirra’s disputes with NASA controllers in Houston. Speaking on an open microphone monitored by the press, he protested the agency’s ambitious schedule for TV transmissions, which he felt took valuable time away from the astronauts’ work. He also insisted that the astronauts dispense with the rule requiring pressurized helmets on re-entry, fearing that this could damage their eardrums in light of their colds. He got his way.
Captain Schirra, who flew in the Mercury and Gemini programs, had told NASA he planned to retire after Apollo 7. That mission proved to be not just the first but also the last for both Mr. Cunningham and Major Eisele.

Chris Kraft, the director of flight operations for the Apollo program, wrote in his memoir, “Flight: My Life in Mission Control” (2001), that Mr. Cunningham and Major Eisele had supported Captain Schirra on the helmet issue. Mr. Kraft said he regarded their collective stance as “insubordinate” and recalled telling Donald Slayton, who selected crews for the Apollo missions, that “this crew shouldn’t fly again.”

The Apollo 7 crewmen did have to settle for NASA’s second-highest award, the Exceptional Service Medal, while subsequent Apollo crews and the crews of the Skylab program were given the top award, the Distinguished Service Medal.
NASA upgraded the Apollo 7 astronauts’ medals to the Distinguished Service citation at an October 2008 ceremony, citing the mission’s success, notwithstanding the arguments with flight controllers. But Mr. Cunningham was the only crewman alive by then. Major Eisele, who died in 1987, was represented by his widow, Susan Eisele-Black; Captain Schirra, who died in 2007, by the astronaut Bill Anders.
Mr. Kraft struck a conciliatory stance. “We gave you a hard time once, but you certainly survived that and have done extremely well since,” he told Mr. Cunningham in a recorded message. “You’ve done well by yourself, you’ve done well for NASA, and I am frankly very proud to call you a friend.”

Historical note, suitable for use in schools.

Sunday, January 1st, 2023

The Diary of Samuel Pepys begins their third read-through today.

I’ve said before that I think this is the way Pepys’s diary should be read: in blog form. It genuinely surprises and delights me that they’ve already gone through the diary twice, and I’m looking forward to following this third read-through.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Sunday, December 25th, 2022

Not exactly traditional, or musical, but why not?

Not a video, but I kind of liked this. One line in particular got me in the feels:

In January 1947, Sewell Avery, the CEO of Montgomery Ward, returned the exclusive rights to May because it was the right thing to do.

…”because it was the right thing to do.

(Since I’ve already linked Paul Harvey, here’s the rest of the story: Bob May left Montgomery Ward to manage Rudolph, but returned seven years later. Yes, he made a ton of money, but sales declined over time, and the federal tax rates were usurius. He worked for Ward’s until his retirement in 1970, and died in 1976. He converted to Catholicism in 1972, after his second wife died, and married her sister the same year.)

Here’s a brief historical note, suitable for use in schools, from the Imperial War Museum:

And now a musical interlude from our interlude.

One more, I think, just for fun:

Merry Christmas to one and all. May those of you on the watch have a quiet shift. May those of you who are suffering find comfort.

Obit watch: December 16, 2022.

Friday, December 16th, 2022

Today’s obit watch is dedicated to my beloved and indulgent sister-in-law.

Frances Hesselbein has passed away. She was 107.

Ms. Hesselbein served as the chief executive of the Girl Scouts from 1976 to 1990.

“She was incredibly focused on the Girl Scouts’ mission,” Marshall Goldsmith, a prominent leadership coach and a friend of Ms. Hesselbein’s, said in a phone interview. “She came up with a model called ‘Tradition With a Future.’ The Girl Scouts weren’t moving into the new world at all. She brought inclusivity and diversity, but she never put down or insulted the past.”
Helping girls reach their greatest potential remained the organization’s mission under Ms. Hesselbein (pronounced HESS-el-bine), but she also saw that the Girl Scouts needed a makeover. What had once thrived with a largely white, middle-class membership had faded with the social and political convulsions of the 1960s and the blossoming of feminism as more women went to work.

The overhaul worked. Membership rose to 2.3 million in 1990, according to Businessweek. Recruitment efforts increased minority membership to 15.5 percent. Ms. Hesselbein launched a project to help scouts learn about as many as 95 career opportunities, and started programs in telecommunications and marine biology that were designed to be done at home or at troop meetings.
“The era before Frances we call ‘the Betty Crocker Era,’ where the girls turned to conforming to what was appropriate for girls to do, and so they earned cooking badges,” Tamara Woodbury, the former chief executive of the Girl Scouts—Arizona Cactus-Pine Council, said in a phone interview. Ms. Woodbury, who met Ms. Hesselbein when she was a teenage Girl Scout, added, “She wanted the Girl Scouts to be a place where girls could push outside the boundaries and not conform to social norms.”

She married John Hesselbein in the late 1930s, and they opened a commercial photography studio in Johnstown that also made educational and promotional films. In 1950, when their son, John, was 8, Ms. Hesselbein was pressed by a neighbor to replace the departing leader of a local Girl Scout troop.
“I explained that I didn’t know anything about little girls,” she said in an oral history project at Indiana University in 2011. “I had a little boy.”
She agreed to fill in for six weeks, but stayed for eight years.
“It was the greatest leadership training I ever had,” she added. “You can’t work with a group of 30 little girls, 10 years old, and talk about the values and have them respond, and not live them.”

Short gun crankery update.

Thursday, December 15th, 2022

Theodore Roosevelt’s Smith and Wesson went for $910,625.

Which is on the low end of what I expected.

Obit watch: December 10, 2022.

Saturday, December 10th, 2022

Colonel Joseph William Kittinger II (USAF – ret.) has passed away at the age of 94.

Col. Kittinger severed honorably in Vietnam:

He flew 483 fighter-plane missions in the Vietnam War before he was shot down and taken prisoner.

Mr. Kittinger flew three tours of duty in Vietnam, became a squadron commander and shot down a North Vietnamese jet. His fighter was downed in May 1972, and he spent 11 months in the prison camp known as the Hanoi Hilton.
He retired from the Air Force as a colonel in 1978 and was a multiple winner of the Distinguished Flying Cross.

He was also the first man to fly a balloon solo across the Atlantic.

…in the 106,000-cubic-foot (3,000 m3) Balloon of Peace, from September 14 to September 18, 1984, launched from Caribou, Maine and organized by the Canadian promoter Gaetan Croteau. As an official FAI world aerospace record, the 5,703.03-kilometre (3,543.70 mi) flight is the longest gas balloon distance flight ever recorded in the AA-10 size category. For the second time in his life, he was also the subject of a story in National Geographic Magazine.

He is perhaps most famous for the act that got him his first National Geographic story.

On August 18, 1960, he jumped out of a balloon at an altitude of 102,800 feet.

He free fell for 13 seconds, protected against air temperatures as low as minus-94 degrees by specialized clothing and a pressure suit. And then his small, stabilizer parachute opened as planned to prevent a spin that could have killed him. He free fell for another 4 minutes and 36 seconds, descending to 17,500 feet before his regular parachute opened.

Taking part in experimental Air Force programs in the skies over New Mexico in the late 1950s and early ’60s to simulate conditions that future astronauts might face, Mr. Kittinger set records for the highest balloon flight, at 102,800 feet; the longest free fall, some 16 miles; and the fastest speed reached by a human under his own power, descending at up to 614 miles an hour.

Those records were broken by Felix Baumgartner in 2012. Col. Kittinger assisted Mr.Baumgartner in the jump.

Mr. Kittinger piloted the Excelsior I balloon to 76,400 feet in November 1959, then prepared to jump out of his gondola. What happened next almost cost him his life.
His left arm caught on the door as he emerged, and the delay in freeing himself caused the premature deployment of the small parachute designed to prevent him from going into a catastrophic spin. The parachute caught Mr. Kittinger around the neck and sent him spinning. He tumbled toward Earth at 120 revolutions per minute, but his main parachute opened at 10,000 feet, as designed, slowing him down and saving his life.
A little more than three weeks later, he was aloft again, climbing to 74,400 feet in Excelsior II before jumping out.
In August 1960, soaring to 102,800 feet in the Excelsior III balloon, Mr. Kittinger eclipsed by almost 1,300 feet the altitude record set by Major David Simons of the Air Force in 1957 in his Man High II balloon.
And then Mr. Kittinger jumped from a gondola once more. “I said, ‘Lord, take care of me now,’” he recalled. “That was the most fervent prayer I ever said in my life.”
The right glove of his pressure suit had failed during his ascent, leaving his hand swollen and in pain, but he was otherwise in fine shape when he touched down.

I’ve said this before, but I really liked Craig Ryan’s The Pre-Astronauts: Manned Ballooning on the Threshold of Space (affiliate link) and the price on it seems much more reasonable than the last time I looked.

When Joe Kittinger was 13, he once scrambled atop a 40-foot-high tree to snare some coconuts, ignoring warnings to stay put. His father recalled that venture as symbolizing the derring-do that would be his son’s life.
As the elder Mr. Kittinger put it: “Everybody wants coconuts, but nobody has the guts to go up there and get them.”

Obit watch: December 9, 2022.

Friday, December 9th, 2022

Squadron Leader George Leonard “Johnny” Johnson, MBE, DFM (RAF – ret.) has passed away at the age of 101.

He was the last surviving participant in the May 17, 1943 “Dambusters” raid by 617 Squadron.

This is a great story:

The crew of Sergeant Johnson’s plane — flown by the lone American on the raid, Flight Lt. Joe McCarthy, a native of Long Island who had joined the Royal Canadian Air Force — had an even tougher task
Its target, the Sorpe Dam, was an embankment lined with soil and rocks that was expected to absorb much of a bomb’s explosive power, in contrast to the two more vulnerable masonry dams.

Lieutenant McCarthy had to clear the steeple of a church, then dip to a level of 30 feet and fly parallel and extraordinarily close to the wall for his plane’s bomb to make a significant impact when it exploded underwater. He made repeated runs along the dam before Sergeant Johnson was satisfied that he could drop his bomb at the center point, where it could do the most damage.
“I found out very quickly how to be the most unpopular member of the crew,” Mr. Johnson recalled in a 2013 interview with the University of Huddersfield in England, explaining that his patience had increased the chances of his plane being spotted by the Germans.
At one point, he said, his rear gunner pleaded, “Will somebody just get that bomb out of here?”
“After nine dummy runs, we were satisfied we were on the right track,” Mr. Johnson wrote in his memoir. “I pushed the button and called, ‘Bomb gone!’ From the rear of the plane was heard ‘Thank Christ for that!’ The explosion threw up a fountain of water up to about 1,000 feet.”

Two Lancasters hit the Sorpe: the dam was damaged, but not breached.

The squadron leader, Wing Commander Guy Gibson, who would be killed in action later in the war, received the Victoria Cross, Britain’s highest award for valor. Sergeant Johnson was awarded the Distinguished Flying Medal.

His death, announced by his family on Facebook, came five years after Queen Elizabeth II conveyed the title Member of the Order of the British Empire on Mr. Johnson in a ceremony at Buckingham Palace.
The honor was bestowed after thousands had signed a petition asking that Mr. Johnson, a bomb-aimer during the war (the equivalent of an American bombardier), be accorded recognition in his final years as a collective tribute to the Dambusters.

For all the harrowing missions he took part in, Mr. Johnson said, he felt confident that he would survive.
“I didn’t feel afraid,” he told James Holland for his book “Dam Busters” (2012), in recalling his combat service between 1942 and 1944. “I was sure I was going to come back every time.”

Obit watch: December 5, 2022.

Monday, December 5th, 2022

Cliff Emmich.

Other credits include “Invasion of the Bee Girls”, “The Incredible Hulk”, “Salvage 1”, and “Halloween II”.

In honor of Mr. Emmich, the Saturday Movie Group watched “Thunderbolt and Lightfoot”, which I had never seen before. I like it, but it is kind of an odd film: sort of a weird blend of a road movie and a heist movie, with lots and lots of landscape. (No surprise there: this was the first movie directed by Michael Cimino. Arguably, one of the problems with “Heaven’s Gate” was Cimino’s obsession with landscapes, at the expense of plot, length, and coming in under budget.)

Notes:

  • Per Wikipedia, Clint Eastwood was available for this movie (which Cimino wrote specifically for him) because he turned down the lead in “Charlie Varrick”. I liked “Charlie Varrick”, but supposedly Eastwood didn’t find anything likeable in any of the characters. So the role went to Walter Matthau, who I think acquitted himself well. But he found the movie incomprehensible.
  • This is the second week in a row we’ve watched a movie with George Kennedy in a key role. (Last week, it was “Airport ’75”.)
  • I think Lawrence and I were both a little surprised by the vault scene. Both of us were wondering, “Are they going to put on ears?” And then, yes, the Eastwood and Kennedy characters put on both ear and eye protection before the real star of the movie comes into play.

IMFDB entry.

Back in the day (before GCA 1968) you could purchase 20mm surplus anti-tank guns and shells. Today, Anzio Ironworks will sell you a single-shot 20mm for a mere $9,800, and a mag-fed one for $11,900. Add $3,200 for a suppressor.

And as a fun historical note, suitable for use in schools: here’s an article from American Rifleman about the real life heist that may have inspired “Thunderbolt and Lightfoot”.

Bob McGrath, longtime “Sesame Street” guy.

Aline Kominsky-Crumb, underground comic artist.

Obit watch: December 1, 2022.

Thursday, December 1st, 2022

Sgt. Hiroshi “Hershey” Miyamura (US Army – ret.)

Sgt. Miyamura received the Medal of Honor for actions during the Korean War. He was the first living Japanese-American MoH recipient. (Pvt. Sadao Munemori received the MoH in 1946, but his award was posthumous.)

Mr. Miyamura was drafted in 1944 and assigned to the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, the Japanese American unit that compiled a storied World War II combat record in Europe while people of Japanese heritage on the West Coast were placed under armed guard at desolate inland internment camps, feared as security risks, which they were not.

He stayed in the reserves post-WWII and was called up to serve in Korea.

He became a squad leader in the Third Infantry Division in an integrated Army, the military having been desegregated after World War II.

From his Medal of Honor citation:

Cpl. Miyamura, a member of Company H, distinguished himself by conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty in action against the enemy. On the night of 24 April, Company H was occupying a defensive position when the enemy fanatically attacked, threatening to overrun the position. Cpl. Miyamura, a machine-gun squad leader, aware of the imminent danger to his men, unhesitatingly jumped from his shelter wielding his bayonet in close hand-to-hand combat, killing approximately 10 of the enemy. Returning to his position, he administered first aid to the wounded and directed their evacuation. As another savage assault hit the line, he manned his machine gun and delivered withering fire until his ammunition was expended. He ordered the squad to withdraw while he stayed behind to render the gun inoperative. He then bayoneted his way through infiltrated enemy soldiers to a second gun emplacement and assisted in its operation. When the intensity of the attack necessitated the withdrawal of the company Cpl. Miyamura ordered his men to fall back while he remained to cover their movement. He killed more than 50 of the enemy before his ammunition was depleted and he was severely wounded. He maintained his magnificent stand despite his painful wounds, continuing to repel the attack until his position was overrun. When last seen he was fighting ferociously against an overwhelming number of enemy soldiers. Cpl. Miyamura’s indomitable heroism and consummate devotion to duty reflect the utmost glory on himself and uphold the illustrious traditions on the military service.

He was taken prisoner and spent 28 months as a POW.

The medal had been awarded in December 1951, eight months after Corporal Miyamura was captured. He was listed as missing at the time, but some four months after the honor was bestowed in secret, his name was included in a partial list of POWs provided by the Chinese.
The Army did not reveal the awarding of the medal until he was released, since it feared his captors would take vengeance on learning of it. As General Osborne told him, “You might not have come back alive.”
In October 1953, Mr. Miyamura, then a sergeant, was formally presented with the medal, the military’s highest award for valor, by President Dwight D. Eisenhower in a White House ceremony.

Noted:

After the war, Miyamura met Terry Tsuchimori, a woman from a family who had been forced to live at the Poston internment camp in southwestern Arizona following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. They married in 1948 and had three children.

Terry died in 2014. Sgt. Miyamura was 97 when he passed. His death leaves Col. Ralph Puckett Jr. as the only surviving MoH recipient from the Korean War.

Lawrence has also posted an obit, which I commend to your attention.

Gaylord Perry, legendary spitballer.

He became the first of six pitchers to win the Cy Young Award in both leagues, capturing it as the American League’s best pitcher with the Cleveland Indians (now named the Guardians) in 1972 and the National League’s leading pitcher with the San Diego Padres in 1978. His older brother, Jim Perry, won the award in 1970 with the A.L.’s Minnesota Twins.
Gaylord Perry, who pitched for eight teams, was a five-time All-Star, pitched a no-hitter for the San Francisco Giants against the St. Louis Cardinals in 1968 and won at least 20 games five times. He was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1991.
He combined with his brother Jim for 529 victories, No. 2 on the career list for brothers, behind Phil and Joe Niekro’s 539.

Perry wrote that his Giants teammate right-hander Bob Shaw taught him the spitter in 1964, when he was first starting to develop his legal pitches.
He said that after wetting the ball with saliva, he graduated over the years to “the mud ball, the emery ball, the K-Y ball, just to name a few.”
“During the next eight years or so, I reckon I tried everything on the old apple but salt and pepper and chocolate sauce toppin’,” he wrote in the vernacular of his rural North Carolina roots.

Perry was a brilliant pitcher with or without a spitter. His 3,534 strikeouts are No. 8 on the career list, and his 5,350 innings pitched are No. 6. He threw 303 complete games.
But he reached the postseason only once, winning one game and losing one when his Giants lost to the Pittsburgh Pirates in the 1971 National League Championship Series.

Gaylord Perry had 314-265 record, having pitched, in order, for the Giants, Indians, Texas Rangers, Padres, the Rangers again, the Yankees, the Atlanta Braves, the Mariners and the Royals.

Christine McVie, of Fleetwod Mac fame. I’m sorry if I’m giving this one short shrift, but I feel like it has been well covered by others who are better qualified to talk about her (and the band’s) legacy.

Obit watch: November 30, 2022.

Wednesday, November 30th, 2022

Jiang Zemin, former Chinese leader.

Michael Feingold, dramaturge and theater critic. I’m not sure I would have noted this otherwise, but the obit does quote some of his funnier lines. (My quoting those here does not indicate that I necessarily agree with his judgments, just that they made me chuckle.)

He once dismissed Andrew Lloyd Webber, whose music is often said to be derivative, with this line: “Webber’s music isn’t so painful to hear, if you don’t mind its being so soiled from previous use.”

“Every civilization gets the theater it deserves, and we get ‘Miss Saigon,’ which means we can now say definitively that our civilization is over,” he wrote. “After this, I see no way out but an aggressive clearance program: All the Broadway theaters must be demolished, without regard for their size, history or landmark status.”
He went on to list assorted other things that also needed to be done away with, including the staff of The New York Times (where the critic Frank Rich had praised the show). Also, he said, “Cameron Mackintosh and his production staff should be slowly beaten to death with blunt instruments; this year’s Pulitzer Prize judges in drama could be used for the job.” Those judges had, weeks earlier, given the drama Pulitzer to Mr. Simon for “Lost in Yonkers.”

He translated numerous European works for the American stage, especially those of Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill. His adaptation of the Brecht-Weill collaboration “Happy End” even made Broadway in 1977, with Meryl Streep and Christopher Lloyd in the cast. He shared Tony nominations for the book and for the score. He earned another Broadway credit in 1989 for his translation of another Brecht-Weill work, “Threepenny Opera.” His translation earned some favorable comments, but critics trashed the show, which featured the rock star Sting.

He was also an early advocate of August Wilson’s work.

Obit watch: November 24, 2022.

Thursday, November 24th, 2022

Frederick P. Brooks Jr., one of the great figures in computer science, has passed away. He was 91.

…he is best known for being one of the technical leaders of IBM’s 360 computer project in the 1960s. At a time when smaller rivals like Burroughs, Univac and NCR were making inroads, it was a hugely ambitious undertaking. Fortune magazine, in an article with the headline “IBM’s $5,000,000,000 Gamble,” described it as a “bet the company” venture.
Until the 360, each model of computer had its own bespoke hardware design. That required engineers to overhaul their software programs to run on every new machine that was introduced.
But IBM promised to eliminate that costly, repetitive labor with an approach championed by Dr. Brooks, a young engineering star at the company, and a few colleagues. In April 1964, IBM announced the 360 as a family of six compatible computers. Programs written for one 360 model could run on the others, without the need to rewrite software, as customers moved from smaller to larger computers.

But there was a problem. The software needed to deliver on the IBM promise of compatibility across machines and the capability to run multiple programs at once was not ready, as it proved to be a far more daunting challenge than anticipated. Operating system software is often described as the command and control system of a computer. The OS/360 was a forerunner of Microsoft’s Windows, Apple’s iOS and Google’s Android.
At the time IBM made the 360 announcement, Dr. Brooks was just 33 and headed for academia. He had agreed to return to North Carolina, where he grew up, and start a computer science department at Chapel Hill. But Thomas Watson Jr., the president of IBM, asked him to stay on for another year to tackle the company’s software troubles.
Dr. Brooks agreed, and eventually the OS/360 problems were sorted out. The 360 project turned out to be an enormous success, cementing the company’s dominance of the computer market into the 1980s.

He did go on to found the University of North Carolina computer science department and chaired it for 20 years. I would actually say that he’s best known for something else:

Dr. Brooks took the hard-earned lessons from grappling with the OS/360 software as grist for his book “The Mythical Man-Month: Essays on Software Engineering.” First published in 1975, it soon became recognized as a quirky classic, selling briskly year after year and routinely cited as gospel by computer scientists.
The tone is witty and self-deprecating, with pithy quotes from Shakespeare and Sophocles and chapter titles like “Ten Pounds in a Five-Pound Sack” and “Hatching a Catastrophe.” There are practical tips along the way. For example: Organize engineers on big software projects into small groups, which Dr. Brooks called “surgical teams.”
The most well known of his principles was what he called Brooks’s law: “Adding manpower to a late software project makes it later.” Dr. Brooks himself acknowledged that he was “oversimplifying outrageously,” but he was exaggerating to make a point.
It is often smarter to rethink things, he suggested, than to add more people. And in software engineering, a profession with elements of artistry and creativity, workers are not interchangeable units of labor.

And this is a nice thing to see in an obit:

During his IBM years, Dr. Brooks became what his son described as “a convinced and committed Christian” after attending Bible study sessions hosted by his colleague and fellow computer designer Dr. Blaauw. “I came to see that the intellectual difficulties I was having as a scientist with Christianity were secondary,” Dr. Brooks recalled in the Computer History Museum interview. He taught Sunday school for over 50 years at a Methodist church in Chapel Hill and served as a leader and faculty adviser to Christian study and fellowship groups at the university.

The major prizes typically cited his work in computer design and software engineering. But during his years at North Carolina, Dr. Brooks also turned to computer graphics and virtual reality, seeing it as an emerging and important field. He led research efforts that experts say included techniques for fast and realistic presentation of images and applications for studying molecules in biology.
“The impact of his work in computer graphics was enormous,” said Patrick Hanrahan, a professor at Stanford University and a fellow Turing Award winner. “Fred Brooks was a thought leader way ahead of his time.”

I have read The Mythical Man-Month (a long time ago, when I was a young sysadmin) and enjoyed it. I wish I had met Dr. Brooks.

Obit watch: November 14, 2022.

Monday, November 14th, 2022

Lieutenant Colonel Samuel Folsom (USMC – ret.) has passed away at 102.

In the vast undertaking to capture and hold Guadalcanal in the late summer and fall of 1942, Lieutenant Folsom was a 22-year-old aviator who had never flown at high altitude and had fired the wing guns of his Grumman F4F Wildcat only once, in a training exercise in California.
But he loved flying and, sent into the thick of air combat over Guadalcanal in the first major Allied land offensive since the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, he had two essential qualities for survival: guts and luck. His 40-pilot squadron battled Japanese Zeros that escorted the Imperial Navy’s cigar-shaped “Betty bombers,” the twin-engine Mitsubishi G4M attack planes that were his squadron’s prime targets.
During Lieutenant Folsom’s three months on the island, nearly half of his squadron’s pilots were killed or wounded. In dogfights, the faster, more maneuverable Zeros often riddled his plane with bullets. He was wounded twice by shrapnel and once by a bullet that gashed his leg. When he ran out of ammunition, he escaped by flying into clouds and circling back to his tiny airstrip, Henderson Field.

Flying at 20,000 feet with Wildcats on his wing, he spotted a group of Mitsubishi bombers far below, skimming the ocean surface for a torpedo attack on a flotilla of American ships in the channel between Guadalcanal and Savo Island.
“Over went our noses and down we went, vertically, in a screaming dive,” Mr. Folsom recalled. “The surface vessels were throwing up a tremendous barrage of ack-ack fire.” He leveled off just over the water, pulled in behind an enemy bomber and fired bursts from his six 50-caliber wing guns. The bomber’s tail gunner shot back. “The guns in that baby winked at me but never made a hit,” he said.
“Some of my slugs must have hit the pilot, for not 50 yards in front of me, and from about 10 feet off the surface, he skimmed in. There was a sudden lurch, followed by a cloud of spray and I was over him, headed for the next one. I followed the same tactics again, but this fellow didn’t fall such easy prey. As I came up astern, he began to skid from side to side.”
One of the bomber’s twin engines smoked, but it kept going. “Closing in again, I peppered him with the last of my ammo,” Mr. Folsom said. “This time I was rewarded by seeing him hit the water for keeps, right wing first. The plane catapulted into the sea.” He later learned that 24 Mitsubishi bombers and six Zeros had been shot down that day. The Americans had lost six planes and two pilots.

Lieutenant Folsom, who was awarded the Purple Heart and the Distinguished Flying Cross, went on to a distinguished military career, commanding night fighter squadrons in battles over Okinawa and in the Korean War. He was a high-altitude test pilot, served in the Office of Naval Operations in Washington and for two years was the assistant Naval attaché at the American Embassy in Norway.

I haven’t had a chance to listen to all of this yet, but here’s an oral history interview from the Library of Congress.

Kevin O’Neill, comic artist. (“The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen”, “Marshal Law”.)

In a statement to The Times after Mr. O’Neill’s death, Mr. Moore said: “Nobody drew like Kevin O’Neill. When I was putting together my formative ideas for The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen in the lead-out groove of the last century, I quickly realized that nobody save Kevin was qualified to present such a dizzying range of characters, periods, situations and styles with the vitality and ingenuity that the narrative — a ridiculous mash-up of all human fiction since classical antiquity — seemed to demand.
Their collaboration on this series, Mr. Moore said, began what was perhaps the longest, happiest and most productive partnership of both men’s careers.

John Aniston, actor. Other credits include “Airwolf”, “Mission: Impossible”, and a two-part episode of one of the spinoffs of a minor SF TV series from the 1960s.

David Davis, TV guy. (“The Mary Tyler Moore Show”, “Taxi”, “The Bob Newhart Show”)

Two years later, when Mr. Davis was working on “Rhoda,” which turned Mary’s wisecracking sidekick, played by Ms. Harper, into a leading lady, he cast Ms. [Julie] Kavner as her self-deprecating sister. (She and Mr. Davis had met before, when Ms. Kavner read for a part on an episode of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” although another actress was cast.) A year later they were a couple.
“He gave me my career, my heart and my life,” Ms. Kavner said, noting that that was her first paying part. She went on to be the voice of Marge, the kindly matriarch with the blue bouffant, on “The Simpsons” and, among other movie roles, the star of “This Is My Life,” Nora Ephron’s 1992 film adaptation of a Meg Wolitzer novel about a stand-up comedian and her family.

Mr. Davis left television in 1979, after the first season of “Taxi” ended. He was 43. He wanted to spend more time with Ms. Kavner — “I got lucky and kept working,” she said, and they traveled to wherever a job took her — and was determined to make a life outside a studio lot.
“He left for the love of his life,” Mr. DeVito said, “but it was OK because we were already on our way.”