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      Slide Hampton, Celebrated Trombonist, Composer and Arranger, Dies at 89

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      He began playing professionally as a child, worked with some of jazz’s biggest names in the late 1950s, and remained a leading figure in the music for the next 60 years.Slide Hampton, a jazz trombonist, composer and arranger who arrived on the scene at the end of the bebop era and remained in demand for decades afterward, was found dead on Saturday at his home in Orange, N.J. He was 89.His grandson Richard Hampton confirmed the death.Mr. Hampton made his name in the late 1950s with bands led by Dizzy Gillespie, Maynard Ferguson and others. He was considered a triple threat — not just a virtuoso trombonist but also the creator of memorable compositions and arrangements.He won Grammy Awards for his arrangements in 1998 and in 2005, the same year the National Endowment for the Arts named him a Jazz Master.During the 1980s, he led a band called the World of Trombones that consisted of up to nine trombones and a rhythm section. Big, brassy jazz was out of favor at the time, but by then he had become an elder statesman of jazz, and he was able to insist on bringing his full band into clubs more interested in small, intimate groups. Once in the door, he was almost always a hit.He was also a fixture on college campuses, teaching composition and theory to the next generation of jazz musicians and instilling in them a respect for jazz — and the trombone — that went well beyond the music.“Playing a trombone makes you realize that you’re going to have to depend on other people,” Mr. Hampton told The New York Times in 1982. “If you’re going to need help, you can’t abuse other people. That’s why there’s a real sense of fellowship among trombonists.”Mr. Hampton in concert at the Tribeca Performing Arts Center in Manhattan in 2006.Rahav Segev for The New York TimesLocksley Wellington Hampton was born on April 21, 1932, in Jeannette, Pa., about 30 miles east of Pittsburgh. He was the youngest of 12 children, and his parents, Clarke and Laura (Buford) Hampton, recruited most of them to be in the family band they led — Locksley joined as a singer and dancer when he was just 6.In 1938 the family moved to Indianapolis in search of more work. The city had a thriving jazz scene, and they were soon touring the Midwest.They never lacked for gigs, but they did lack a trombone player, a deficit the elder Mr. Hampton remedied by handing the instrument to his youngest son when he was 12 and teaching him to play it. He took to the instrument — no easy task for a child — and it didn’t take long for him to earn the nickname Slide.He studied at a local conservatory, but most of his musical education came through his family and other musicians. He was particularly taken by J.J. Johnson, the leading trombonist of the sophisticated school of jazz known as bebop, who lived in Indianapolis. Mr. Hampton later recalled that one evening he was standing outside a club with his instrument, too young to enter, when Mr. Johnson walked by. He was supposed to play that night, but he didn’t have his trombone. Mr. Hampton gave him his own.Mr. Hampton later adapted several of Mr. Johnson’s compositions. He kept one of them, “Lament,” in his repertoire for decades.After his father died in 1951, the family band was led by Locksley’s brother Duke. In 1952 the band won a contest to play at Carnegie Hall, opening for Lionel Hampton (no relation).While in New York, Mr. Hampton and one of his brothers went to Birdland, the fabled jazz club, where they saw the bebop pianist Bud Powell play. That experience, he later said, left a much greater impression on him than performing at Carnegie.Mr. Hampton married Althea Gardner in 1948; they divorced in 1997. He is survived by his brother Maceo; his children, Jacquelyn, Lamont and Locksley Jr.; five grandchildren; and 13 great-grandchildren. His son Gregory died before him.The Hampton family band later returned to New York to play at the Apollo Theater, and Slide urged them to relocate to the city. When they demurred, he made his own plans.A friend recommended a once-a-week gig in Houston, and Mr. Hampton jumped at the chance. It paid well enough that he could use the rest of the week to study and compose.In 1955 the rhythm-and-blues pianist Buddy Johnson recruited him for his band, and he relocated to New York. A year later he moved to Lionel Hampton’s band, and a year after that he joined Maynard Ferguson’s. He composed some of the Ferguson band’s better-known pieces, including “The Fugue” and “Three Little Foxes.”Mr. Hampton found himself in high demand and struck out on his own in 1962 as the leader of the Slide Hampton Octet. Though that band lasted just a year and he later said he did a poor job as its leader, it greatly increased his visibility.As a leader, Mr. Hampton was humble. He often took a seat in the audience after playing a solo so as not to upstage other band members when their turns came. Once, when a television crew showed up to film the band, he cut his solo short to make sure everyone got a turn on camera.In the early 1960s he bought a brownstone in the Fort Greene neighborhood of Brooklyn, which quickly became a hot spot for jam sessions and a crash pad for some of the country’s top musicians. The saxophonists Wayne Shorter and Eric Dolphy and the guitarist Wes Montgomery all lived there for a time.After his octet broke up, Mr. Hampton worked as a musical director for Motown Records, collaborating on productions for Stevie Wonder, the Four Tops and others. There he encountered firsthand the rising popularity of pop and R&B and concluded that jazz was being boxed out of the American music scene. After touring Europe in 1968 with Woody Herman, he settled in Paris, where he found not just a thriving jazz audience, but public subsidies that supported the music.“The conditions and the respect for the artist in Europe were so incredible that I was overwhelmed,” Mr. Hampton told The Times in 1982. “They saw jazz as an art form in Europe long before they did here.”He returned to America in 1977, initially to write arrangements for the saxophonist Dexter Gordon, who himself had recently returned from Europe. By then the place of jazz had changed — major labels were becoming interested, government grants were becoming available and colleges were adding jazz to the curriculum.Mr. Hampton was once more in demand as a musician — and now also as an educator. Over the next decades he taught at Harvard, the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, DePaul University in Chicago, and elsewhere. And he continued to play at New York venues into the 2010s.When asked what explained his success over such a long career, Mr. Hampton insisted that it wasn’t just talent, but also practice — he practiced four to five hours a day, and would do even more if he had the time.“Everything that’s really of quality requires a lot of work,” he said in a 2007 interview with the National Endowment for the Arts. “Things that come easy don’t have the highest level of quality connected to them.” More

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      Margo Guryan, Whose Album Drew Belated Acclaim, Dies at 84

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      She recorded “Take a Picture” in 1968, but it died when she declined to tour. Three decades later, adventurous listeners discovered it and gave it a new life.In the late 1990s Margo Guryan’s husband, David Rosner, opened an envelope that had come in the mail from Japan, and the two of them were surprised by what it contained: a royalty check generated by sales of Ms. Guryan’s album “Take a Picture.”The surprise was that the record — her only album at that point — had been released some three decades earlier, in 1968. Ms. Guryan was still carrying the memory of seeing it, not long after its release, languishing in the discount bin at a New York record store.The album, full of Ms. Guryan’s rhythmically complex yet beguilingly melodic songs about love, had died a quick death because Ms. Guryan, an enthusiastic songwriter but a reluctant performer, had declined her record company’s request to promote it by touring and making television appearances.Yet somehow decades later, with the digital age facilitating both word of mouth and the sharing of music, adventurous listeners discovered it — first in Japan, then in Europe, and finally in the United States, where in 2000 Franklin Castle Recordings rereleased it, followed the next year by “25 Demos,” a collection of other recordings of hers. Ms. Guryan, who by then was in her 60s and had settled into an anonymous career teaching music, had an unexpected burst of something resembling fame.“It’s still amazing to me to have something resurface after 30 years,” she told The Los Angeles Times in 2002. “People say I’ve been rediscovered. It’s not true — I’ve been discovered.”Ms. Guryan died on Nov. 8 at her home in Los Angeles. She was 84.Jonathan Rosner, her stepson, confirmed the death.As a songwriter, Ms. Guryan was best known for “Sunday Morning,” which became a Top 40 hit (with the “g” dropped from “Morning”) for Spanky and Our Gang in 1968 and was also recorded by the singer Oliver and others. Another of her songs, “Think of Rain,” has also been recorded by a number of singers, including Claudine Longet, Jackie DeShannon and Malcolm McNeill.But the reissue of “Take a Picture” and the follow-up album of demos brought a new appreciation of Ms. Guryan as someone who, her own insecurities aside, performed her own songs better than almost anyone else could. The records, J.R. Jones wrote in The Chicago Reader in 2002, “reveal one of the most overlooked talents of that explosively creative time, a reluctant vocalist whose songs, perversely, were indivisible from her voice.”Margo Guryan was born on Sept. 20, 1937, in Hempstead, N.Y., on Long Island, and grew up in the Far Rockaway section of Queens. Both of her parents played piano, though not professionally, and she began taking lessons when she was 6.She developed an interest in jazz early, and once she enrolled at Boston University she made a point of taking a course on jazz history taught by the Newport Jazz Festival impresario George Wein, who also owned a Boston nightclub, Storyville. He befriended her and would let her slip into the club through a side door, since she was underage. Once, when the pianist scheduled to play at intermission during an engagement by the Miles Davis Quintet didn’t show up, the club manager persuaded her to fill in; Mr. Davis, she said, gave her a congratulatory “Yeah, baby!”But, as would be the case later with her pop work, performing was not her priority. She often said that she switched her field of study at Boston University to composition from piano just to avoid having to give a senior recital.“To be a good jazz musician on any instrument, one has to be a really quick thinker, or internalize the chord progression,” she told the music magazine It’s Psychedelic Baby in 2018. “I’m a slow thinker — need time to think about where I’m going.”She began having success as a songwriter. While she was still in college one of her compositions, “Moon Ride,” was recorded by the jazz singer Chris Connor.In 1959 and 1960 she was among the students at the Lenox School of Jazz, a summer jazz education program in Massachusetts. The saxophonist and free-jazz pioneer Ornette Coleman was also a student there. After she had graduated from college, Ms. Guryan went to work for MJQ Music, a jazz publisher, which assigned her to put lyrics to the Coleman composition “Lonely Woman.” That version was recorded by Ms. Connor in 1962, among other singers.Ms. Guryan began having success as a songwriter when she was still in college.via Jonathan RosnerThat same year Harry Belafonte included her song “I’m on My Way to Saturday” on his album “The Many Moods of Belafonte.” That, she told It’s Psychedelic Baby, brought her a $1,500 paycheck, her largest to date.“I remember that I took some of the money and bought a red winter coat,” she said. “And I would tell people the coat was a gift from Harry Belafonte.”In 1966 her friend Dave Frishberg, the pianist and songwriter (who died on Nov. 17), changed her musical direction when he dropped by her apartment in Greenwich Village to play her an exciting new record: the Beach Boys’ ambitious “Pet Sounds.” The track “God Only Knows” especially caught her attention.“Margo was blown away and thought it was better and more interesting than anything going on in jazz at that moment,” Jonathan Rosner, a music publisher, said by email. “This inspired her to write ‘Think of Rain,’ which then led to all the other pop songs.”In 1967 David Rosner, whom she would marry in 1970, signed her to the music publisher April-Blackwood Music. He took demos she had made of her songs to record companies, trying to interest their artists in them.“One record company exec asked, ‘Why don’t we just record her?’” Ms. Guryan recalled in a 2015 interview with the music publication L.A. Record.Ms. Guryan had a flaw in her singing voice. (“I have a range break, right around G above middle C,” she told The Chicago Reader. “Above that I can sing, but it’s almost falsetto. Below it I can sing in full voice.”) As they set about recording the songs that would become “Take a Picture,” Mr. Rosner suggested doubling her voice, a recording technique in which the singer sings a track twice; that trick not only overcame the flaw but also gave her voice an ethereal quality that, three decades after the fact, would suit the record nicely for an era that favored whispy-voiced singer-songwriters.That was all in the future. First came a fateful meeting with Larry Uttal, the president of the label that issued the album, Bell Records. He outlined his plans for her to promote the record with lip-synced TV appearances and live shows.“I just sat there and shook my head from side to side,” she said years later. “After a frustrating half an hour or so — I’m sure for him as well as me — we left, and the promotion on the record immediately took a nosedive.”An early marriage to the trombonist and composer Bob Brookmeyer ended in divorce. David Rosner died in 2017. In addition to her stepson, Ms. Guryan is survived by two grandchildren.After her album died in the late 1960s, Ms. Guryan continued to write the occasional song, including some political ditties inspired by Watergate and by a speech by President George W. Bush. Another project, an extension of her work as a music teacher, was “The Chopsticks Variations,” a group of fanciful elaborations on the familiar piano exercise known to countless children — she wrote a ragtime variation, a boogie-woogie one, and 12 others. The works were so popular as sheet music that in 2009 she issued them on CD. More

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      Mick Rock, Sought-After Rock Photographer, Dies at 72

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      His images of David Bowie, Lou Reed, Queen and others helped define the 1970s. He was still shooting the stars decades later.Mick Rock, whose striking images of David Bowie, Lou Reed, Debbie Harry, as well as more recent stars like Theophilus London and Snoop Dogg, made him one of rock and pop’s most acclaimed photographers, died on Thursday at a hospital in Staten Island. He was 72.His family posted news of his death on his website. No cause was given.Mr. Rock was often called “the man who shot the ’70s” because of his photographs that captured the rock stars of that flamboyant decade, both in his native England and in New York. He lived the rock lifestyle as he was photographing it, becoming part of the scene inhabited by Mr. Bowie, Mr. Reed and the rest.“I was drawn to the good, the bad and the wicked,” he said in “Shot! The Psycho-Spiritual Mantra of Rock,” a 2016 documentary about him directed by Barney Clay.“I’ve lived a very wild life because I’ve been hanging out with a lot of very wild people,” he added. “And the camera just kind of led me by the nose.”Mr. Rock in 2016 at an exhibition of his photographs in Toulouse, France.Remy Gabalda/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesSome of his photographs adorned memorable album covers: the bleached-out shot of Mr. Reed on “Transformer” (1972); the eerily dark image of the members of Queen on “Queen II” (1974), later recreated in the much-viewed music video for “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Others captured stars in poses — Mr. Bowie looking androgynously enigmatic; Ms. Harry, of the group Blondie, looking like Marilyn Monroe. And still others caught performances or unguarded moments.“I am not in the business of documenting or revealing personalities,” Mr. Rock wrote in a diary early in his career. “I am in the business of freezing shadows and bottling auras.”Befriending the stars of the day, which included taking the same drugs they were often taking, gave him the sort of access that most photographers can only dream of. As Mr. Reed put it in the introduction to one of Mr. Rock’s books, “Mick Rock was so much a part of things that it was quite natural to have him snapping away and think of him as invisible.”But Mr. Rock wasn’t limited to one era. He continued photographing rockers, rappers and other music personalities for the next 40 years, even after a heart attack in 1996 led him to embrace a quieter lifestyle. (“All I am is a retired degenerate,” he joked in a 2011 interview with The New York Times.) In recent decades he had photographed Snoop Dogg, Lady Gaga, Rufus Wainwright and many others.Bob Marley, photographed in 1975.Mick Rock“It was barely over a year ago I sat with you by the window listening to Bowie stories,” Miley Cyrus wrote on Twitter after learning of his death. “It was my honor.”Mr. Rock often said he was fated to have the career he had because of his name: He was born Michael David Rock on Nov. 21, 1948, in London to David and Joan (Gibbs) Rock.He graduated from Caius College, Cambridge, where he studied modern languages. While a student there, as he put it in the documentary, “photography wandered idly into my life.” He was hanging out in a friend’s room with a companion, and the friend had left a 35-milimeter camera lying about (which turned out to have no film in it, though Mr. Rock didn’t realize that).“I was with a young lady in a state of — I think chemical inebriation is probably the best way of putting it,” he told The Daily Telegraph of Britain in 2010, “when I started snapping away. I was just playing, but there was something about it that I really liked.”So he got himself his own camera, with film, and began taking pictures of friends and friends’ friends. One friend, whom he had met early in his time at Cambridge, was Syd Barrett of the band Pink Floyd. Through Mr. Barrett he came to know other musicians, and a few not only asked him to photograph them but also paid him.“I suddenly realized you could make money from this,” Mr. Rock wrote in “Classic Queen,” his 2007 book about his work with that band. “That was terrific: much better than getting a ‘real’ job.”Snoop Dogg in 2009. Mr. Rock continued photographing rockers, rappers and other music personalities well into the 21st century. Mick RockHe started writing for various publications and illustrating his articles with his own photographs. One musician he came to know was Mr. Bowie, and one particular picture he took, in 1972, was career-making. Onstage at the Oxford Town Hall, Mr. Bowie pantomimed performing fellatio on the guitar of one of his musicians, Mick Ronson, as he played. Mr. Rock’s photograph of the moment turned up in Melody Maker magazine.“This was that shot that put my name on the map,” Mr. Rock wrote in the Queen book. “Suddenly I was in demand, and my camera was clearly speaking louder than my words.”Famed shots of Mr. Reed and Iggy Pop came along about the same time.“I took those when Lou and Iggy were relatively unknown, unless you were really, really hip,” he told The Telegraph, “but somehow those shots seemed to have defined them forever.”Madonna in 1980.Mick RockSoon his reputation was such that Queen came calling.“I didn’t really know their music, but, when they played me their album, I said, ‘Wow! Ziggy Stardust meets Led Zeppelin!’ and that seemed to seal the deal,” he said.Mr. Rock moved to New York in 1977 and became immersed in the turbulent scene there that included Blondie, the Ramones and other performers.“I needed a new edge, and I found it in New York in spades,” he told The Sunday Herald of Scotland in 1995.“Over the years Mick Rock has made history with all the musicians and rock stars that he has immortalized,” Ms. Harry wrote in the introduction to Mr. Rock’s book “Debbie Harry and Blondie: Picture This” (2019). “A good photo session is sometimes as good as sex. You leave feeling well massaged, satisfied and a little bit outside yourself.”Debbie Harry in 1978. “Mick Rock,” she wrote, “has made history with all the musicians and rock stars that he has immortalized.”Mick RockMr. Rock’s marriage to the photographer Sheila Rock ended in divorce. He is survived by his wife, Pati Rock, whom he married in 1997; a daughter, Nathalie Rock; and five siblings, Carol, Jacqueline, Don, Angela and Laura.Mr. Rock’s work was featured in various exhibitions. In the Blondie book, he lamented that he’d made such an impact as a rock photographer that it restricted him in some ways.“Like a hit record to a rock ’n’ roller, the downside is that a great image, besides defining the subject, can limit what others call on the photographer to do,” he wrote. “I wouldn’t mind shooting the occasional politician or actor (or even a gangster or two), but that’s not how art directors or magazines view me.” More

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      Bob Bondurant, Car Racer Who Tutored Actors on the Track, Dies at 88

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      After a racetrack accident put him in the hospital, he pivoted to open a driving school, where his students included Paul Newman, Tom Cruise and Christian Bale.Bob Bondurant, a master racecar driver who was better known for his driving school in California and later Arizona, where he tutored actors like Paul Newman, Tom Cruise and Christian Bale for their onscreen racing roles, died on Nov. 12 in Paradise Valley, Ariz. He was 88. A death certificate provided by his wife, Pat Bondurant, said he had a “suspected immune reaction related to vaccinations.” It cited cerebrovascular disease and cerebral arterial stenosis as underlying conditions. He died at an assisted living facility.Mr. Bondurant began attracting attention in the racing world in 1959, when he won 18 of the 20 races he entered behind the wheel of a Corvette.“I am an original California hot rodder turned white hot when I started winning everything in my Corvettes,” he was quoted as saying by the National Corvette Museum, which inducted him into its Hall of Fame in 2016.He continued to win races regularly in Corvettes in the 1960s, but he also began to race successfully in other sports cars and open-wheeled Formula 1 machines, including for the elite Ferrari team from 1965 to ’66.“He was top of the line,” said Peter Brock, who designed the Shelby Daytona Cobra Coupe that Mr. Bondurant raced with Dan Gurney to first place in the GT, or Grand Touring, class at the 24 Hours of Le Mans endurance race in 1964.But in 1967, Mr. Bondurant crashed during a race at what is now the Watkins Glen International in upstate New York, suffering multiple injuries, including fractures of both feet and a broken right ankle. It was a turning point.In the hospital he came up with the idea of opening a school that would teach safe, defensive driving to auto enthusiasts.The Bob Bondurant School of High Performance Driving opened in early 1968 at the Orange County International Raceway in Irvine, Calif. “We want to make a better driver, rather than make a faster driver,” he told The Los Angeles Times at the time. He also offered instruction in racecar driving, motorcycling and drag racing.Even before opening the school, Mr. Bondurant had some well-known students. He had coached James Garner and Yves Montand in driving Formula 1 cars for John Frankenheimer’s 1966 film, “Grand Prix.” Mr. Bondurant, who was a stunt man and technical adviser to the film, wore 16-millimeter cameras on the sides of his helmet to record racing action on the track while moving at 150 miles per hour.Mr. Bondurant, in the car, with Paul Newman on the set of the 1969 movie “Winning.” Mr. Newman was one of his first big-name students.Universal, via Everett CollectionSoon after Mr. Bondurant opened the school, Mr. Newman and Robert Wagner signed up as students. They had been cast as racecar drivers in the film “Winning” (1969), in which Mr. Newman’s character dreams of winning the Indianapolis 500.“Paul has a knack of knowing how to learn,” Mr. Bondurant told The St. Louis Post-Dispatch in 1988. “He’s like most actors — they know how to listen. He would move at his own pace, and wouldn’t go too quick. He took it step by step, and it came naturally to him.”He tested Mr. Newman on three tracks before he handed him off to another instructor, who familiarized him with the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Mr. Newman’s experience on the film led him to take up racecar driving as a sideline, as a both successful professional driver and a team owner.As Mr. Bondurant’s school grew, it moved from Irvine to Ontario Speedway, near Los Angeles, then to Sonoma Raceway, in Northern California, and in 1989 to its most recent location, Wild Horse Pass Motorsports Park, in Chandler, Ariz.“I love teaching and I love driving,” he told The Post-Dispatch. “I hope I never grow up. It would be a disaster.”Robert Lewis Bondurant was born on April 27, 1933, in Chicago to John and Ruth (Williams) Bondurant. His mother was a homemaker, and his father was a luxury car dealer who sold his business during the Depression and moved the family from Evanston, Ill., to the Westwood Village neighborhood of Los Angeles, making his living selling surgical instruments.His parents divorced when Bob was 12; four years later his mother died.“My dad took me to Gilmore Stadium when I was 7 to watch the races, and that got me interested in racing,” Mr. Bondurant told Motor Trend magazine in 2012.He drag-raced, began racing motorcycles at 18, moved on to sports cars — a British Morgan Plus 4, a Triumph TR2 — then drove a 1957 fuel-injected Corvette in his stunningly successful 1959 season, which earned him the title of Best Corvette Driver of the year. He kept winning in Corvettes into 1963.After studying business, he graduated from Woodbury College in Los Angeles in the early 1960s.Driving for the Shelby American team, Mr. Bondurant raced Cobras in the United States and Europe; in addition to the Le Mans triumph in 1964, he helped Shelby and Ford win the prestigious World Manufacturers’ GT Championships the next year.After his interlude with Ferrari, Mr. Bondurant leaped to the Canadian-American Challenge Cup circuit — better known as Can-Am — in cars that went even faster than those in Formula 1. His 1967 accident came at the Can-Am race at Watkins Glen. He was driving his McLaren Mark II at 150 m.p.h. when his steering arm broke, causing the car to flip multiple times.After recovering, he continued to race occasionally, the last time in 2012. But his focus was on his school, which his wife said had taught more than 500,000 people over 50 years, including professional racecar drivers, celebrities, military officers, F.B.I. and C.I.A. agents, Navy Seals, and teenagers learning safe-driving skills, usually at the request of their parents.In recent years, after Mr. Bondurant became less involved in it, the school was beset by financial problems and filed for Chapter 11 protection in 2018. An investment group purchased its assets the next year and renamed it the Radford Racing School. Ms. Bondurant said she was working to start another school that would use the Bondurant name.Mr. Bondurant in 2016 behind the wheel of an Alfa Romeo Giulia.“I love teaching and I love driving,” he said. “I hope I never grow up.”Kelly Sullivan/Getty Images Mr. Bondurant married Pat Chase at the Monaco Grand Prix racetrack in 2010. In addition to his wife, he is survived by her son, Jason Bondurant, whom he adopted and was a vice president of the racing school; his stepdaughter, Meagan Radigan; and two step-grandsons. His previous marriages ended in divorce.In 1990, Mr. Bondurant trained Tom Cruise for his role as a stock-car driver in Tony Scott’s “Days of Thunder,” and in 2000 Nicolas Cage trained at the Bondurant school for his role as a car thief in “Gone in 60 Seconds.”Mr. Bondurant worked with Christian Bale in the summer of 2018 as the actor trained to play the British racecar driver Ken Miles in “Ford v Ferrari” (2019), James Mangold’s account of the cutthroat competition in Formula 1 between the two automakers at the 24 Hours of Le Mans in 1966.“Bob spent hours with Christian in his GT40, talking to him about how to play Miles,” Ms. Bondurant said in a phone interview. “Bob had great reverence for Christian because both were motorcycle racers. With Christian’s motorcycle racing experience, Bob said: ‘I’d do anything to get him to quit acting. I could get him to win Le Mans.’” More

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      Overlooked No More: Ruth Polsky, Who Shaped New York’s Music Scene

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      She booked concerts at influential nightclubs in the 1980s, bringing exposure to up-and-coming artists like the Smiths and New Order.This article is part of Overlooked, a series of obituaries about remarkable people whose deaths, beginning in 1851, went unreported in The Times.In the late 1970s and early ’80s, New York City’s nightclub scene was vibrant and daring, attracting an eclectic mix of creative types like artists, writers and musicians. It was also predominantly run by men.A notable exception was Ruth Polsky, who arranged concerts for cutting-edge rock artists, like the Smiths and New Order, at the influential Manhattan clubs Hurrah and Danceteria, whose regulars included Madonna and Jean-Michel Basquiat.Polsky had a knack for finding young talent, and helped both clubs earn a reputation for debuting new artists. Early in their careers, British bands like the Cure and the Specials played American shows at Hurrah, and Madonna performed one of her first-ever live shows at Danceteria, in 1982.Polsky’s choice of artists was diverse. She booked guitar-driven bands like Echo and the Bunnymen, influential minimalists like Young Marble Giants and challenging genre-busters like Einstürzende Neubauten and the Birthday Party, fronted by Nick Cave.There were potent, female-led groups, including Au Pairs, a politically-fuelled band from Birmingham, England, and kitschy Pulsallama from New York. She was an early supporter of Ru Paul, who performed with bands in the 1980s. (Ru Paul was occasionally referred to by a friend as Ru Polsky.)Polsky also arranged the United States premieres of alternative rock bands, many from the United Kingdom, including New Order, the Psychedelic Furs and Simple Minds, whose music eventually became mainstream soundtracks of the 1980s.“This is the place where anything goes,” Polsky said about Danceteria in a British television interview in the mid-1980s, “from oompah bands to Diamanda Galás to the funkiest thing happening on the street.”Her inclusive approach welcomed a clientele from all over the city, one that was racially diverse and of varying socioeconomic backgrounds. She turned her clubs into a hub for nonconformists, some of whom, like the actress Debi Mazar and the Beastie Boys, became famous.“It was kind of weirdos unite,” said Cynthia Sley, a member of Bush Tetras, whom Polsky booked several times. “Everybody who was an outcast from regular society would converge down there.”Her interactions with musicians went well beyond a professional obligation.“She was good at her job, and she had people power,” Bernard Sumner, a member of the band New Order, said in an interview. “She could handle people and charm them over.”And her dealings with performers didn’t end when the shows were over; she often invited them to her West Houston Street apartment to mingle with other musicians.Danceteria in 1980. The nightclub was a vibrant, daring scene that attracted creative types like artists, writers and musicians.Allan Tannenbaum“It was like a writers’ salon, but for punk rockers,” said Hugo Burnham, a founding member of Gang of Four, a taut British band who played several shows that Polsky booked. “She was the punk rock Dorothy Parker.”Her style was enhanced by the sort of devotion a loyal friend would show. It was a “mixture of strength and a kind of sisterly, kind of motherly instinct,” said Johnny Marr, a former member of the Smiths, whose first American show was at Danceteria.“You could stay up until 4 o’clock in the morning with her,” he added, “but then she would make sure that you went out and had a decent breakfast and a warm coat.”Part of her drive came from frequently being the only woman in the room, interacting with managers, booking agents and club owners who were mostly men.“She wanted to show that she could make a difference as a woman in a very male-dominated world,” said Howard Thompson, a former record company executive and a friend of Polsky’s.Ruth Rachel Polsky was born on Dec. 5, 1954, in Toms River, N.J., to Louis and Bertha (Rudnick) Polsky. Her father was an egg distributor, her mother a homemaker. From a young age, Ruthie, as she was called, was an excellent student. By the time she was a teenager, her love of books and writing was matched only by an obsession with music. Her taste, even then, was precocious: In high school, she saw the Doors and Led Zeppelin play live.Polsky attended Clark University in Massachusetts, where she wrote about music for the school paper. She earned a degree in English literature in 1976 and began writing for Aquarian Weekly, an alternative newspaper in New Jersey, covering up-and-coming music as a contributing editor. She also worked at a magazine publishing company.In her writing, she championed innovative sounds and encouraged fans to support them.“Right now, people need to dance,” she wrote in Aquarian Weekly in 1979, “not the well-oiled, machine-like dancing of a bland, conformist half-decade, but the individualistic style of a crazy new era.”That year, she started booking bands at Hurrah, a club near Lincoln Center, alongside another well-known promoter, Jim Fouratt. Three years later, she moved to Danceteria, a multilevel space in the Flatiron district.Polsky, left, at a party 1982. After the club shows she had booked, she’d often invite the performers over to her Houston Street apartment to mingle with other musicians. “It was like a writers’ salon, but for punk rockers,” one musician said.Howard ThompsonBefore long her impact began reaching well beyond New York City. In 1981, Polsky took a handful of American bands, including Bush Tetras, to London to perform for the first time in England. The show was called “Taking Liberties From New York.”In the United States, bands were able to use the money they earned from the concerts Polsky had arranged to go on national tours, furthering their exposure and success.“People in Columbus and Madison and Seattle and Minneapolis could see these bands that normally wouldn’t be able to tour America,” said Robert Vickers, a former member of the Go-Betweens, an Australian band that played several shows arranged by Polsky. “It made it possible for these cutting-edge bands, the post-punk bands, that Americans in these smaller cities would never have seen except for Ruth.”By the summer of 1986, Ms. Polsky had started her own company, S.U.S.S. — for Solid United States Support, a nod to a colloquial British term for astutely figuring something out — to help artists from abroad navigate their careers in America. She was managing bands, too, and writing a memoir about her nightlife adventures.Polsky died on Sept. 7, 1986, when she was hit by an out-of-control taxi outside the Limelight, a Manhattan club where she had arranged for one of her clients, Certain General, to play that evening. She was 31.“It just seemed like such an awful waste,” Mr. Sumner said, “because she was on an upward trajectory.”As alternative music was gaining in popularity, that path might well have included working directly with superstars, her ultimate goal.“She had the smarts, she had the passion, she had the good taste and she had the nurturing qualities,” said Mr. Marr of the Smiths. “She was tough and really ticked all the boxes to have been really successful with a band.” More

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      Wilbur Smith, Best-Selling Author of Swashbuckling Novels, Dies at 88

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      His books were full of lovers, dysfunctional families, pirates and hunters, and set in locations from ancient Egypt to colonial Africa. They sold in the millions.Wilbur Smith, a former accountant whose novels featuring lionhearted heroes, covetous family dynasties, steamy lovers, coldblooded pirates and big-game hunters were said to have sold some 140 million copies in 30 languages, died on Saturday at his home in Cape Town. He was 88.His death was announced on his website. No cause was specified.Over more than five decades, Mr. Smith’s historical thrillers and adventure novels, which often spanned several generations and several continents, became a popular franchise of series and sequels.Reviewing his book “The Diamond Hunters” in The New York Times Book Review in 1972, Martin Levin wrote that “the potpourri Wilbur Smith has assembled is rife with lifelong misunderstandings, undying hates, unbelievably nefarious schemes and nick‐of‐time rescues — delivered with the deadpan sincerity of the pulp greats.”Raised on a 30,000-acre cattle ranch in what was then the British protectorate of Rhodesia (and is now Zambia), Mr. Smith was a bookish boy whose strict father discouraged reading (“I don’t think he ever read a book in his life, including mine,” he told The Daily Telegraph in 2007) but went on to draft plots on official paper he lifted from his work at the government’s Inland Revenue Service.He completed his first manuscript in 1962. Twenty publishers sent telegrams rejecting it. He revised and reduced it, embracing the advice of Charles Pick, the deputy managing director of the publishing house Heinemann, to tell a story that drew more fully on his own experience. “Write only about those things you know well,” Mr. Smith said Mr. Pick advised.Inspired by the life of his grandfather, who was lured by the Witwatersrand gold rush of the 1880s and fought in the Zulu wars, and by his own upbringing on his father’s ranch, Mr. Smith wrote “When the Lion Feeds,” which was published in 1964.It became the first in a successful series of what Stephen King in 2006 praised as “swashbuckling novels of Africa” in which “the bodices rip and the blood flows.” Subsequent decades would bring other series, based in Southern Africa and ancient Egypt.“I wrote about hunting and gold mining and carousing and women,” Mr. Smith said.Mr. Smith’s “When the Lion Feeds” (1964) was initially rejected by 20 publishers but went on to become the first in a successful series of what Stephen King praised as “swashbuckling novels of Africa.” Bentley Archive/Popperfoto via Getty ImagesHe set other books in locales ranging from Antarctica to the Indian Ocean. “Wild Justice” (1979), one of the first of his books to become a best seller in the United States (where it was published as “The Delta Decision”), was the story of the hijacking of a plane off the Seychelles — one of many places Mr. Smith called home. (He also had homes in London, Cape Town, Switzerland and Malta.)Wilbur Addison Smith was born on Jan. 9, 1933, in Broken Hill, Northern Rhodesia (now Kabwe, Zambia). He was named for Wilbur Wright, the aviation pioneer. His father, Herbert, was a rancher who became a sheet metal worker. His mother, Elfreda, was a painter who encouraged his reading.He contracted cerebral malaria when he was 18 months old. “It probably helped me,” he said later, “because I think you have to be slightly crazy to try to earn a living from writing.” He caught polio when he was a teenager, which resulted in a weakened right leg.When he was 8, his father gave him a .22-caliber Remington rifle. “I shot my first animal shortly afterward and my father ritually smeared the animal’s blood on my face,” he wrote in his memoir, “On Leopard Rock: A Life of Adventures” (2018). “The blood was the mark of emerging manhood. I refused to bathe for days afterward.”He attended Michaelhouse, a private boys’ school in the KwaZulu-Natal midlands of South Africa. He started a student newspaper there, but he hated school.“Michaelhouse was a debilitating experience,” he later recalled. “There was no respect for the pupils. The teachers were brutal, the prefects beat us, and the senior boys bullied us. It was a cycle of violence that kept perpetuating itself.” Reading and writing, he said, became his refuge.“I couldn’t sing nor dance nor wield a paintbrush worth a damn,” he told the Australian website Booktopia in 2012, “but I could weave a pretty tale.”He said that he had originally wanted to write about social conditions in South Africa as a journalist, but that his father nudged him toward what he thought was a more stable profession. After graduating from Rhodes University in Grahamstown (now Makhanda), South Africa, with a Bachelor of Commerce degree in 1954, he worked for the Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company for four years, then joined his father’s sheet metal manufacturing business. When that company faltered, he became a government tax assessor.He married Anne Rennie in 1957. They divorced in 1962 after having two children: a son, Shaun, and a daughter, Christian. He married Jewell Slabbart in 1964; they had a son, Lawrence, before that marriage also ended in divorce. In 1971, he married Danielle Thomas; she died in 1999. The next year he married Mokhiniso Rakhimova, who was 39 years his junior and whom he met in a London bookstore. He adopted her son, Dieter Schmidt, from a previous marriage. Complete information about survivors was not immediately available.From left, Roger Moore, Barbara Parkins and Lee Marvin in “Shout at the Devil” (1976), based on a book by Mr. Smith.American International PicturesA few of Mr. Smith’s books have been adapted into films, including “Shout at the Devil” (1976), which starred Lee Marvin and Roger Moore.Mr. Smith had his detractors, who saw some of his writing as glorifying colonialism and furthering racial and gender stereotypes. And he was not always a favorite of critics.He maintained, as he told the Australian publication The Age, that he paid little attention. “The snootiness of critics is so silly,” he said. “They’re judging Great Danes against Pekingese. I’m not writing that literature — I’ve never set out to write it. I’m writing stories.”“Now, when I sit down to write the first page of a novel, I never give a thought to who will eventually read it,” he is quoted on his website, recalling the advice of his first publisher, Mr. Pick: “He said, ‘Don’t talk about your books with anybody, even me, until they are written.’ Until it is written, a book is merely smoke on the wind.”Later in his career, Mr. Smith was churning out two books annually, with the help of a stable of co-authors.“For the past few years,” he said when he announced the collaboration, “my fans have made it very clear that they would like to read my novels and revisit my family of characters faster than I can write them.” More

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      Dave Frishberg, Writer of Songs Sardonic and Nostalgic, Dies at 88

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      A gifted jazz pianist and a singer with a limited range but a distinctive voice, he wrote mostly for grown-ups but reached his largest audience on “Schoolhouse Rock!”Dave Frishberg, the jazz songwriter whose sardonic wit as a lyricist and melodic cleverness as a composer placed him in the top echelon of his craft, died on Wednesday in Portland, Ore. He was 88.His wife, April Magnusson, confirmed the death.Mr. Frishberg, who also played piano and sang, was an anomaly, if not an anachronism, in American popular music: an accomplished, unregenerate jazz pianist who managed to outrun the eras of rock, soul, disco, punk and hip-hop by writing hyper-literate songs that harked back to Hoagy Carmichael and Johnny Mercer, by way of Stephen Sondheim.His songwriting wit was for grown-ups, yet he reached his widest audience with sharpshooting ditties for kids as a regular musical contributor to ABC-TV’s long-running Saturday morning animated show “Schoolhouse Rock!”Merely being aware of Dave Frishberg and his songs conveyed an in-the-know sophistication. He poked fun at this self-congratulatory hipness in his lyrics for “I’m Hip,” a classic of clueless with-it-ness that he wrote to a melody by his fellow jazz songwriter Bob Dorough:See, I’m hip. I’m no square.I’m alert, I’m awake, I’m aware.I am always on the scene.Making the rounds, digging the sounds.I read People magazine.‘Cuz I’m hip.Mr. Frishberg’s original lyric for “I’m Hip,” written in 1966, was “I read Playboy magazine,” but he later changed it.People magazine never did get around to profiling him (though it did briefly review one of his albums in the 1980s). But his niche in the niche-songwriting world of the cabaret smart set (when such a breed still existed) was lofty. Superb saloon singers came to be identified with the Frishberg tunes they sang. One of those singers was Blossom Dearie, whose rendition of his “Peel Me a Grape” was, in Mr. Frishberg’s view, definitive.Still, no one quite sang a Dave Frishberg song like Dave Frishberg, with his thin, reedy voice and compellingly constricted vocal range. Mr. Frishberg’s performance of his acerbic paean to “My Attorney Bernie” was unsurpassed, particularly his laconic crooning of the song’s refrain:Bernie tells me what to doBernie lays it on the lineBernie says we sue, we sueBernie says we sign, we sign.Mr. Frishberg’s songwriting gift extended well beyond the satirical jab. He composed some beautiful ballads, and he was an elegant nostalgist who wrote longingly (though also knowingly) about the mists of time and loss. There was the bittersweet Frishberg of “Do You Miss New York?,” the aching Frishberg of “Sweet Kentucky Ham” and the ingeniously eloquent Frishberg of “Van Lingle Mungo,” a touching wisp of a ballad constructed solely from the strung-together names of long-ago major league baseball players.Mr. Frishberg at the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel in Manhattan in 2002. His niche in the cabaret songwriting world was lofty. Richard Termine for The New York TimesDavid Lee Frishberg was born on March 23, 1933, in St. Paul, Minn., the youngest of three sons of Harry and Sarah (Cohen) Frishberg. His father, who owned a clothing store, was an émigré from Poland; his mother was a native-born Minnesotan.He began sketching athletes from news photos when he was 7 and hoped to become a sports illustrator, but he also listened closely to music growing up and could sing the entire score of “The Mikado” and other Gilbert and Sullivan operettas. His brother Mort, a self-taught blues piano player, soon steered him toward jazz and blues records, and to the keyboard, where the teenage Mr. Frishberg replicated by ear the boogie-woogie styles of Pete Johnson and Meade Lux Lewis before discovering the modernist pianism of bebop.“Jazz musicians were hip,” Mr. Frishberg wrote in his memoir, “My Dear Departed Past” (2017); “they were funny, they were sensitive, they were clannish, and they seemed to have the best girlfriends.”After graduating from St. Paul Central High School, Mr. Frishberg briefly attended Stanford University before returning home to enroll at the University of Minnesota. Though he was already a semiregular on the local jazz scene, his sight reading skills were too poor for a formal music degree. Instead he flirted with majoring in psychology before gravitating to journalism and securing his degree in 1955.He served two years in the Air Force as a recruiter, to fulfill his R.O.T.C. obligations, and then, in 1957, was hired by the New York radio station WNEW to write advertising scripts and other material for its disc jockeys and announcers. He quickly forsook WNEW to write catalog copy for RCA Victor Records, then finally stepped out as a working solo pianist with a late-night slot at the Duplex cabaret in Greenwich Village.Mr. Frishberg became an in-demand sideman at jazz spots like Birdland and the Village Vanguard for jazz luminaries including the saxophonists Ben Webster, Al Cohn and Zoot Sims and the drummer Gene Krupa. He also accompanied an array of great singers, including Carmen McRae, Anita O’Day and, for one dizzying night while backing Ms. O’Day at the Half Note, a timid Judy Garland, who tremulously sat in and sang “Over the Rainbow,” then asked Mr. Frishberg to become her musical director. He demurred.“I’m Just a Bill,” which Mr. Frishberg wrote for the animated children’s show “Schoolhouse Rock!,” brought him unexpected acclaim and long-lasting residuals for what he later ruefully acknowledged to be his “most well-known song.”Kari Rene Hall/Los Angeles Times via Getty ImagesIn the early 1960s, Mr. Frishberg began writing songs — “all kinds of songs,” as he recalled in “My Dear Departed Past.” When the singer Fran Jeffries asked if he could write her a bit of special material, something she could “slink around while singing,” he responded with “Peel Me a Grape”:Peel me a grapeCrush me some iceSkin me a peach, save the fuzz for my pillowStart me a smokeTalk to me niceYou gotta wine meAnd dine me.Written in 1962, “Peel Me a Grape” became Mr. Frishberg’s first published tune — though the publishing company that acquired it, Frank Music, owned by the illustrious Frank Loesser, did little with it. “As far as I knew, the song was a pretty confidential item,” Mr. Frishberg later wrote, “until Blossom Dearie’s version.” Still, it launched Mr. Frishberg as a songwriter.“I’m Hip” followed in 1966, leading to a swelling portfolio of songs. The demos that he cut to teach singers his songs began to tickle the insular jazz recording industry’s ear. Finally, Mr. Frishberg went into the studio himself to record an album, consisting of his own compositions. The record was released in 1970 on the recently formed CTI label under the title “Oklahoma Toad.”Mr. Frishberg decamped to Los Angeles in 1971, ostensibly to write material for “The Funny Side,” a new NBC variety show starring Gene Kelly. The show lasted only nine episodes, but work as a studio musician kept Mr. Frishberg afloat. He also began to perform his songs regularly in local clubs.In 1975, Mr. Dorough invited him to contribute to “Schoolhouse Rock!,” for which Mr. Dorough was the musical director and one of the writers. Mr. Frishberg’s first contribution, in the show’s third season, was “I’m Just a Bill,” an explanatory swinger about the legislative process sung by the jazz trumpeter and vocalist Jack Sheldon. It brought him unexpected acclaim and long-lasting residuals for what he later ruefully acknowledged to be his “most well-known song.”“The Dave Frishberg Songbook, Volume No. 1” earned Mr. Frishberg the first of his four Grammy Award nominations. “The Dave Frishberg Songbook, Volume No. 1” garnered a 1982 Grammy Award nomination for best male jazz vocal performance. The next year, “The Dave Frishberg Songbook, Volume No. 2” did the same. In support of that album, Mr. Frishberg appeared on “The Tonight Show.” Two more Frishberg albums were nominated for Grammys, “Live at Vine Street” in 1985 and “Can’t Take You Nowhere” in 1987.Mr. Frishberg’s marriage in 1959 to Stella Giammasi ended in divorce. He later married Cynthia Wagman.In 1986, he, his wife and their year-old son, Harry, moved to Portland, fleeing the freeway traffic and what he once referred to as the “malignant environment” of Los Angeles. He lived on in Portland, more or less contentedly, for the rest of his life, producing a second son, Max; divorcing for a second time; and, in 2000, marrying Ms. Magnusson. In addition to her, he is survived by his sons.In Portland, he collaborated regularly with the vocalist Rebecca Kilgore. As often as not, though, Mr. Frishberg reveled in playing solo piano in crowded hotel bars. When ill health overtook him late in life, he never stopped writing, just as he had mordantly predicted in 1981 in “My Swan Song”:Once I popped them out like wafflesThe good ones and the awfulsA new one every day. But nowI find I’m uninspired, my wig’s no longer wiredI’ve nothing left to say. …But I’ll say it anyway.Alex Traub More

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      Philip Margo of the Tokens, Who Sang of a Snoozing Lion, Dies at 79

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      His baritone contributed to the 1961 hit “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” which became one of the most recognizable American pop songs ever.Philip Margo, a member of the close-harmony group the Tokens, which earned enduring pop-music fame with the No. 1 hit “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” in 1961, died on Saturday in a hospital in Los Angeles. He was 79.The cause was a stroke, his family said.Mr. Margo had a varied career, performing with the Tokens and its offshoots, producing records and writing for television. But nothing had a bigger impact than the recording he was part of when he was 19: “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” became one of the most recognizable songs in American music, instantly identifiable from Jay Siegel’s opening falsetto. Mr. Margo sang baritone.The song had its origins in South Africa, where Solomon Linda and the Original Evening Birds recorded a simple tune they called “Mbube” — Zulu for “the lion” — containing the now-familiar melody. In the early 1950s the American folk group the Weavers, whose members included Pete Seeger, began performing it but rendered the word of the title as “wim-o-weh.” The Kingston Trio and others picked up on that version.In 1961 the Tokens were looking for a follow-up to their first record, “Tonight I Fell in Love,” and Hugo Peretti and Luigi Creatore, producers at RCA Records, brought in the lyricist George Weiss, who added the English lyrics that begin “In the jungle, the mighty jungle.”Philip Margo and some of the others in the group didn’t have a lot of confidence in the resulting recording.“We were embarrassed by it and tried to convince Hugo and Luigi not to release it,” he said in an interview quoted in “The Billboard Book of Number 1 Hits” by Fred Bronson. “They said it would be a big record and it was going out.”They were right. It hit No. 1 on the Billboard chart in December 1961, remained there for three weeks and became a cultural touchstone. A whole new generation was introduced to it in 1994 when a version turned up in the Disney movie “The Lion King.”“Now that it’s current, we’re current,” Mr. Margo said at the time. “I am thrilled.”Philip Frederick Margo was born on April 1, 1942, in Brooklyn to Leon and Ruth (Becker) Margo. He grew up in the Brighton Beach section of Brooklyn. In 1959 he returned there from a summer job playing piano in the Catskills and, with his younger brother, began trying doo-wop harmonizing with Mr. Siegel and Hank Medress, seeing what they could do with songs like “A Teenager in Love,” a hit at the time for Dion and the Belmonts.“We sounded so good we started writing songs ourselves,” Mr. Margo told The Spokesman-Review of Spokane, Wash., in 1992. One song they came up with was “Tonight I Fell in Love,” which they recorded and brought to the small Warwick label, whose owner, Marty Kraft, said they needed a name.“We wanted to call ourselves Those Guys, but that was unheard-of in 1960,” Mr. Margo said in the Billboard book interview. “It had to be ‘The Somethings.’”So they took the name from an earlier group Mr. Medress had been in, becoming the Tokens.The Tokens released a number of other singles over the years, including “I Hear Trumpets Blow” (1966), and a string of albums. Collectively the group also produced records for others, including the Chiffons and the Happenings.Mr. Margo continued to perform with his brother, who died in 2017, and with Mr. Medress, who died in 2007. He settled in Beverly Hills and was a fan of the Los Angeles Dodgers. During the 1998 baseball season his version of the Tokens (Mr. Siegel has his own) performed the national anthem in every major league ballpark, and is said to have been the first pop group to have accomplished that feat.In the 1980s and 1990s Mr. Margo wrote and produced television movies and wrote episodes of shows including the sitcom “Benson.” He also managed the career of that show’s star, Robert Guillaume, for a time.Mr. Margo is survived by his wife, Abbie S. Margo, whom he married in 1966; two sons, Noah Margo and Joshua Ginsberg-Margo; a daughter, Neely S. Irwin; a sister, Maxine Margo Rubin; and eight grandchildren.The Margo brothers appeared on “CBS This Morning” in 1994, promoting a recently released album called “Oldies Are Now.” Paula Zahn, one of the show’s hosts, asked them about “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” including a question — “How many ways can you butcher a-wim-o-weh?” — that they needed no prompting to answer.“Wingle-whop, wingle-whetta, wing-away,” said Phil.“Wing-o-wack,” said Mitch.“Wing-o-wack,” agreed Phil.To which Mitch added, “And then some that we can’t repeat.” More