Obit watch: October 8, 2020.

Johnny Nash, musician (“I Can See Clearly Now”).

Mr. Nash was a singer, an actor, a record-label owner and an early booster of Bob Marley in a varied career that began in the late 1950s when, as a teenager, he appeared on Arthur Godfrey’s CBS-TV variety show. He also sang on Mr. Godfrey’s popular radio broadcasts.

When Mr. Nash traveled to Jamaica to promote “Let’s Move,” he became enamored of the emerging reggae sound. He recorded at Federal Studios in Kingston, bought a house in the city and one night in 1967, at a Rastafarian ceremony, met a young Bob Marley and heard him sing.
Mr. Nash and Mr. Sims were so impressed that they signed Marley and his group, the Wailers, to their label (now called JAD), with the idea that he would write material for Mr. Nash to sing.
In his book “Before the Legend: The Rise of Bob Marley” (2007), Christopher John Farley described a complicated relationship between the two singers. Mr. Nash promoted Marley to international audiences, bringing the Wailers to London in 1972 as his opening act and recording Marley’s songs. But to Marley’s ears, an American singer doing a commercial take on reggae was inauthentic.
“He’s a nice guy, but he doesn’t know what reggae is,” Mr. Farley quoted Marley as saying. “Johnny Nash is not Rasta; and if you’re not a Rasta, you don’t know nothin’ about reggae.”

Peregrine Worsthorne, who the paper of record describes as “an arch-Conservative newspaper editor, contrarian columnist and defender of empire and aristocracy”. I highlight this obituary for two reasons:

1) I don’t believe in making fun of people’s names: that’s the lowest form of insult humor. However, I have to say: you don’t run across people with names like “Peregrine Worsthorne” much these days.

2) This extremely annoying passage from the NYT obit:

In 1973, in what Mr. Worsthorne had described as a rehearsed and knowingly provocative episode, he appeared on British television and was asked to comment on the likely public reaction to news of a sex scandal involving a Conservative government minister, Lord Lambton, the Earl of Durham (who would, by coincidence, become his father-in-law).
Mr. Worsthorne forecast public indifference, using a four-letter word that later crept into use on cable television and in some general interest publications, but which in 1973 was wholly forbidden. His remark was long credited as only the second use of the word on British television after the theater critic Kenneth Tynan uttered it in 1965 in what became a cause célèbre in a national debate about public morality.
Mr. Worsthorne’s language caused a stir with both the BBC and the owners of the Telegraph newspaper group, very likely costing him any chance of becoming editor of The Daily Telegraph, the flagship of Conservatism at the time.
“I still don’t know why I made such a fool of myself,” he wrote in the liberal newspaper The Guardian in 2004. “Foolhardiness, I suppose. It seemed the mot juste, and I could not resist the temptation to make a splash. As a result, I shall be remembered, if at all, as the second person to say” — and here he said it again — “on British TV. What a deservedly horrible fate.”
Later he suggested that the episode may not have been spontaneous, since it followed private conversations at El Vino, a notorious wine bar and eatery on Fleet Street, then the hub of many British newspapers. Contrarianism, he once remarked, was synonymous with “the pure pleasure and enjoyment of annoying people.”

(According to The Guardian, that word was “fuck”.)

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