How powerful was Gianni Agnelli? When the Fiat boss and unofficial king of Italy took to making his own fashion rules -- tie worn outside the sweater, watch strapped above the cuffs, button-down collars left unbuttoned -- commentators didn't mock him. Instead, they praised his sense of style and held him out as a model of Italian manhood: rich, successful and confident, the embodiment of la bella figura.
The Agnelli family were known as the Italian Kennedys and, in at least one way, the comparison was exact: They could get away with anything. Gianni Agnelli (he was always known by his nickname, short for Giovanni) was the supreme playboy of his generation, celebrated for his line that "one can be very faithful and a bad husband, just as one can be unfaithful and a very good husband." He won the admiration of his countrymen by squiring Anita Ekberg of La Dolce Vita fame, shared his yacht with Jackie Kennedy and crashed his Ferrari along the Cote d'Azur while fleeing the wrath of Pamela Harriman, who had caught him in bed with another woman.
Speed gave him as much of a release as sex, and even when he ascended to the chairmanship of Fiat, he would race through the red lights of Turin with his chauffeur cowering in the back seat.
For an Agnelli, the usual rules didn't apply. Many of Italy's postwar industrial policies were dictated by the Fiat conglomerate, and friendly governments built a massive network of highways, held back public transport and restricted low-cost imports to keep Mr. Agnelli content. Even a deal to sell 14 per cent of Fiat to Libya's Moammar Gadhafi was rubber-stamped.
In return, Fiat paid off Italy's leaders on a massive scale, which in 1997 finally led to the conviction of Mr. Agnelli's closest adviser. But the boss himself escaped censure.
The Agnelli empire was appropriately vast: truck manufacturing, medical equipment, insurance companies, the prestigious newspapers Corriere della Sera and La Stampa, the perennially successful Turin soccer club Juventus, the fabled Ferrari marque and even a 75-per-cent interest in the deluxe Bordeaux estate Chateau Margaux. Little more than a month after Mr. Agnelli died, Fiat announced a record loss of 4.3 billion euros, and his prized Margaux was sold off.
Idi Amin 80
Some tyrants are forced to face justice and pay for their crimes. But most escape the day of reckoning. Take Idi Amin, Uganda's self-described president-for-life and killer of about half a million people. While his sense of longevity may have been extravagant -- his perpetual rule lasted eight years -- he still managed to end his days not on the gallows but in the pampered comforts of Saudi Arabia.
To the end, he believed the people of Uganda, or what remained of them, would invite him back. In a life of delusions -- he once proposed marriage to Princess Anne and expelled his country's Asian population based on a dream -- this was the most far-fetched.
After taking over Uganda in a 1971 coup (apparently engineered by British intelligence), he practised an open and enthusiastic butchery, feeding his justice minister to the Nile crocodiles and arranging to have dynamite tossed into the cell where 32 army officers were being held.
If he had any purpose, it was to reduce Uganda's tribal divisions by the process of elimination. But all he achieved was sadistic chaos, best represented to the world by the welcome he extended to the hijackers of an Israeli plane, one of whose passengers was executed after being taken off for a medical emergency. The spectacular but bloody rescue of the surviving passengers by Israeli commandos was one of the few moments in his reign when he didn't get away with murder.
As monstrous as he was (and delighted in being), Mr. Amin wouldn't have achieved power without much encouragement and turning of blind eyes by British military leaders. His skills as a heavyweight boxer, surprisingly quick rugby player and astute
tracker of anti-colonial rebels helped him rise through the ranks, and his amiable buffoonish style covered up his more vicious tastes.
Mr. Amin believed himself invincible, and so he turned out to be. Expelled by Tanzanian troops and Ugandan rebels in 1979, he found refuge in Saudi Arabia, where he spent his last 24 years shopping, working out, practising his Muslim faith and driving aimlessly in a blue Cadillac.
Gerald Emmett Carter 91
He wasn't so much a prince of the church as a no-nonsense CEO. The trappings of office delighted Cardinal Gerald Emmett Carter and, fully aware of Catholicism's ability to awe, he never turned down an invitation where the flowing scarlet robes could be seen to advantage.
But it was the exercise of power that captivated him most, both his own -- he was a domineering archbishop -- and that of the rich, influential people who were pleased to call him a tennis partner and fishing buddy.
Cardinal Carter was one of the few people whom Conrad Black would acknowledge as an equal, perhaps even a superior. He eased Mr. Black's conversion to Catholicism and was a resplendent presence at the annual Hollinger dinner. In return, Mr. Black made him a dedicatee of his massive biography of Franklin D. Roosevelt.
At his funeral, held in Toronto's St. Michael's Cathedral, the pews were filled with Westons and Eatons, Bassetts and Barnickes. After the private sector had taken its share, only 150 places remained for the rank and file.
But like any good corporate leader, Cardinal Carter courted public figures, and was courted in turn. Pierre Trudeau consulted him on the Constitution, John Turner fed him Irish whisky through a straw in his declining months and Jean Chrétien attended his funeral.
In his proximity to political power, Cardinal Carter was the Billy Graham of Canada. But he was less a spiritual counsellor or an all-forgiving confessor, and much more a player. In 1984, to the astonishment of those who knew nothing of the Cardinal's back-room influence, he persuaded Ontario premier William Davis to fund the Catholic high-school system. Reports that the Cardinal threatened the Progressive Conservatives were wrong, said Mr. Davis, who described the Montreal-born typesetter's son as "constructively persistent."
Squarely built and effortlessly intimidating, Cardinal Carter was not made for deference. He was bold enough to critique the papal prohibition on birth control in the 1960s, but later on targeted the church's liberalizing element: In his zeal, he once tried to ban an altar girl from serving in a Toronto church. It was left to the Pope to overrule him.
Johnny Cash 71
Music's categories couldn't contain Johnny Cash. For lack of anything better, he was called a country artist, but the fit was always imperfect. Some ever-varying combination of gospel, blues, rockabilly and personal pain made his music far more sincere than the Nashville formulas allowed, and his most affecting songs came from the beginning and end of his career, when he wasn't playing to the crowd.
That career was surprisingly long-lasting, a testament to his capacity for surviving self-destruction. Contrary to the Cash mythology, he never did hard time or shot a man in Reno, but his steady addictions got him into a series of scrapes -- setting a forest on fire, driving a tractor into a lake, getting into a vicious fight with an ostrich -- that seem unworthy of his music's deep dignity. And yet, unlike Elvis, he managed to connect his torments with his sound and found wisdom in the depths of sadness.
He famously wore black "for the poor and the beaten down," and seemed to suffer on their behalf as well. He came from the beaten classes, lulled to sleep by his mother's revival songs while his labourer father reclaimed land in the Mississippi Delta. He wrote Folsom Prison Blues as far back as 1953, while serving in Germany with the U.S. air force, and soon hooked up with Sam Phillips to record Hey Porter and I Walk the Line.
The Grand Ol' Opry didn't have much time for him, but San Quentin prison did -- the cons' overjoyed response to his world-weary compassion established him as a one-of-a-kind musician. Other singers performed and entertained, but Johnny Cash told the truth, however painful.
In his last decade, that directness connected him with a new generation of questing musicians such as Nick Cave and Joe Strummer. For them, the crass material that alienated Cash fans in the late '60s and early '70s -- the novelty number A Boy Named Sue, a recording with evangelist Billy Graham, a network variety show -- was the momentary thing of a distant past. In a world of pop confection and studio manipulation, his bare-bones authenticity was timeless.
Sergio Vieira de Mello 55
Sergio Vieira de Mello was the envy of his United Nations colleagues and the journalists who followed him to the world's trouble spots. No matter how bad the conditions -- and if Mr. de Mello was there, the situation was desperate -- both his impeccable wardrobe and his boundless optimism remained intact.
All that changed on Aug. 19 when a suicide bomber exploded a truck under Mr. de Mello's office in Baghdad, killing the UN envoy and 23 others, including two Canadians, Gillian Clark and Christopher Klein-Beekman. But even as he lay trapped in the rubble, condemned to die because basic rescue equipment was lacking in the Iraq he had come to rebuild, he told the soldier comforting him, "Don't let them pull the mission out."
Mr. de Mello knew the good the UN could accomplish despite the disdain displayed by George W. Bush's team. The son of a Brazilian diplomat who had been ousted by the country's military dictatorship, he joined the UN at the age of 21, fresh from the Sorbonne (though he continued to work on a philosophy doctorate). Stints in Bangladesh, Cyprus, Mozambique, Lebanon, Bosnia and Kosovo followed -- a litany of the world's worst crises. Before being seconded to Baghdad from his post as UN High Commissioner for Refugees, he had taken East Timor from chaos to working democracy in less than three years. On learning of his death, East Timor's President talked as much about his sense of humour as his tireless pursuit of justice.
Mr. de Mello's people skills were unmatched in diplomatic circles. He was openly critical of American treatment of terrorism suspects after Sept. 11, 2001, and yet went to Baghdad with the personal approval of Mr. Bush. It helped that he believed Saddam Hussein's violation of human rights in itself justified the invasion.
But once in Baghdad, he voiced sympathy with the daily humiliations Iraqis were suffering at the hands of an occupying force. Deftly overcoming Washington skeptics, he persuaded U.S. administrator Paul Bremer to create an Iraqi governing council with real power. He was the only foreigner invited to speak at the council's opening ceremonies, a month before he was killed.
Diana Mitford 93
Perhaps it was just a matter of class. Her blue-blooded friends and the social climbers who tagged along behind them thought Diana Mitford (Mosley) a splendid creature -- gorgeous and charming, a witty conversationalist and a lover of beautiful things.
Those who lacked her breeding, taste and income were more likely to condemn her as a traitor. When she died at the age of 93, she was still referred to by her old title as the most hated woman in England, though she had long since chosen exile in France near her dear friends, the Duke and Duchess of Windsor (her bijou palace was known as the Temple of Glory).
However exquisite one's table settings, being a devoted admirer of Hitler, a dedicated fascist and a vocal anti-Semite does tend to rub most people the wrong way.
Diana Mosley was born a Mitford, sister to the novelist Nancy and the activist Jessica, married an heir to the Guinness fortune (they shared the dedication of Evelyn Waugh's Vile Bodies) and became first mistress, then wife to Sir Oswald Mosley, leader of the black-shirted British Union of Fascists. Hitler attended their wedding in 1936, which was held at Joseph Goebbels's house.
Lady Mitford had first met the German leader through her sister, Unity Valkyrie, who was something of a Nazi groupie, and she couldn't stop talking about his perfect manners, beautiful hands and gift for comedy -- she thought his impressions of Mussolini a hoot and presumably replied with her best Churchill, a relative by marriage.
She was very much an equal partner in her relationship with Oswald Mosley, and served as courier between him and Hitler. She explained herself as more of an impassioned anti-Communist than an unrepentant Nazi, but it didn't help her case that sister Nancy denounced her to British intelligence as a ruthless egotist who "was far cleverer and more dangerous than her husband."
The Mosleys were imprisoned in 1940, and held for three years in a prison cottage that came complete with servants before Churchill arranged their freedom in a selfless act of noblesse oblige.
Soong Mei-ling 106
Soong Mei-ling could claim to be the most powerful woman in the world when she came to stay at the White House in 1943. Her husband, Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek, ruled China, and she persuaded the world that she ruled him. At international summits, between puffs on the cigarettes she loved despite the ascetic moral crusade she had imposed on her countrymen, Madam Chiang did almost all the talking. Her English, which disarmingly combined a Georgia drawl and an aristocratic New England lilt from her extensive education in the United States, was perfect and she made full use of what novelist Christopher Isherwood described as "terrifying charm."
The object of that charm assault was to win support for China against Japan, confirm Chiang Kai-shek's leadership in the face of the threat posed by the Communists of Mao Zedong and, in passing, enrich the corrupt Nationalist regime.
"They're thieves, every damn one of them," said Harry Truman, who knew that Madam Chiang funnelled U.S. aid back to Republican presidential hopefuls. She also had a calculated fling with U.S. special envoy Wendell Wilkie, who had run against Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1940.
But in 1943, with his forces spread thin between Europe and the Pacific, Mr. Roosevelt deemed China a great power worth cultivating. The luxury-loving Madam Chiang, whose family was China's wealthiest, arrived for her Washington stay with a collection of silk sheets, which she insisted be changed several times a day.
For much of her visit, she remained in her room and imperiously clapped her hands when she wanted service. The White House quickly wearied of the diplomatic diva, but when she addressed Congress or Madison Square Garden or a packed Hollywood Bowl -- invariably in a tight-fitting black satin gown, slit well up the side -- the country melted. No lobbyist has ever more successfully pulled the wool over American eyes.
It couldn't last. Mao's forces proved too powerful, and with Japan's surrender, Mr. Truman was less inclined to support a corrupt regime. But for more than two decades after Chiang Kai-shek's retreat to Taiwan, U.S. policy maintained the fantasy that he was China's leader -- a lingering tribute to his wife's potent charm.
Wilfred Thesiger 83
What others saw as desolation, Wilfred Thesiger craved as a refuge. He was an explorer by vocation, but his life's work was as much about escape as discovery. The modern world appalled him -- progress was desecration, and he could be completely happy only where life was hard and the combustion engine did not exist.
For five years, that was the immense sand desert of southern Saudi Arabia known in classic English understatement as the Empty Quarter. From 1945 to 1949, travelling on camel or on foot in the desert dress of his Bedouin companions, Mr. Thesiger sidestepped quicksand and staved off starvation to map this empty terrain. Officially, he was the leader of a United Nations expedition to chart the breeding grounds of locusts, and indeed he found a few. But mostly, as his epic Arabian Sands makes it clear, he was present to witness the incomparable.
Mr. Thesiger was one of the great, and certainly the most daring, travel writers of his time. He followed up his Arabian adventures with The Marsh Arabs, the chronicle of seven years spent in the impenetrable Shia marshlands of southern Iraq that were later desecrated by Saddam Hussein.
He once claimed that writing was a waste of time, and that he had been pushed into it by a bullying mother. The worldly renown it brought him meant little compared with the satisfaction he derived from being as tough and fearless as the men born to the empty places. He took special pride in his circumcision skills, a talent that endeared him to some, if not all, of the tribes he mingled with.
He himself was born to wealth and privilege, the son of a British diplomat in Addis Ababa, and his most vivid childhood memory was of Haile Selassie's troops returning from battle in bloody triumph. It gave him, he said, a "lifelong craving for barbaric splendour, for savagery, colour and the throb of drums." Though he went to Eton and Oxford, and wore his bowler hat religiously in London, he could feel comfortable only where discomfort was routine.
ENTERTAINERS
Art Carney, 85, played Ed Norton in the television classic The Honeymooners and won an Oscar for Harry and Tonto.
Nell Carter, 54, starred in the TV series Gimme a Break! and won a Tony award for Ain't Misbehavin'.
Richard Crenna, 76, appeared in Our Miss Brooks and The Real McCoys on TV as well as many movies.
Adam Faith, 62, was a popular early British rock and roll performer.
Buddy Hackett, 78, was a rubbery-faced comedian who also appeared in movies.
Gregory Hines, 57, a dancer/actor, appeared in the movies White Knights and on Broadway in Jelly's Last Jam.
Bob Hope, 100, an American institution, hosted many TV specials, acted in films and was well-known for entertaining U.S. troops overseas.
George Miller, 61, was a standup comedian.
SONG Cliff (Kid) Bastien, 65, a trumpeter, is credited as having single-handedly kept alive the unique New Orleans style of jazz.
Luciano Berio, 77, was an Italian avant-garde composer.
Felice Bryant, 77, co-wrote Bye Bye Love and bluegrass standard Rocky Top.
Benny Carter, 95, was a jazz musician, saxophonist, arranger and composer for 70 years.
June Carter Cash, 73, a country music singer, was one of the Carter Sisters and the wife of Johnny Cash.
Franco Corelli, 82, was one of the top opera stars of the 20th century.
Celia Cruz, 78, was known as the Queen of Salsa.
Maurice Gibb, 53, was a member of the Bee Gees.
Bobby Hatfield, 63, was half of the singing duo The Righteous Brothers.
Michael Kamen, 55, was a Grammy-winning, Oscar-nominated composer.
Little Eva, 59, sang The Loco-motion.
Gisele Mackenzie, 76, was a regular performer on Your Hit Parade.
Herbie Mann, 73, helped to popularize the flute as a jazz instrument.
Richard Newell, 58, was harmonica great King Biscuit Boy.
Robert Palmer, 54, was known for his videos for the songs Addicted to Love and Simply Irresistible.
Johnny PayCheck, 64, was a country singer best known for Take This Job and Shove It.
Sam Phillips, 80, was the founder of Sun Records in Memphis, and was the discoverer and first-time producer of Elvis Presley.
Nina Simone, 70, was an eclectic, multitalented jazz, pop, soul singer and pianist.
Edwin Starr, 61, sang the anti-war song War.
Barry White, 60, was famous for his distinctive baritone voice.
Warren Zevon, 56, was known for Werewolves of London.
TELEVISION
David Brinkley, 82, co-anchored the pioneering news program The Huntley-Brinkley Report.
Buddy Ebsen, 95, starred in The Beverly Hillbillies and Barnaby Jones.
Gordon Jump, 71, played Arthur Carlson on WKRP in Cincinnati, and later he took over the role of the Maytag repairman in commercials.
John Ritter, 54, played Jack Tripper on Three's Company, and starred in 8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter.
Denis Harvey, 74, was a veteran journalist who rose to become a vice-president of CBC Television.
Rod Roddy, 66, was the announcer on The Price Is Right, where he told contestants to "Come on down!"
Fred Rogers, 74, was the host of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood.
Robert Stack, 84, played Eliot Ness in The Untouchables.
Billy Van, 68, a familiar fixture on Canadian TV for decades, starred in The Hilarious House of Frightenstein.
FILM
Charles Bronson, 81, a tough-guy actor, starred in The Great Escape, The Dirty Dozen, The Magnificent Seven and Death Wish.
Jeanne Crain, 78, was nominated for an Academy Award for her starring role in Pinky.
Hume Cronyn, 91, appeared in Lifeboat, The World According to Garp and Cocoon.
Jack Elam, 84, was a supporting actor in many gangster movies and westerns.
David Hemmings, 62, was a British actor who starred in Blow-Up.
Katharine Hepburn, 96, starred in The African Queen, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner and On Golden Pond.
Elia Kazan, 94, directed On the Waterfront, Gentleman's Agreement and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
Donald O'Connor, 78, an actor and dancer, starred in Singin' in the Rain and in the Francis the Talking Mule movies.
Gregory Peck, 87, starred in Roman Holiday, To Kill a Mockingbird and Cape Fear.
John Schlesinger, 77, directed Midnight Cowboy, Marathon Man, Darling and The Day of the Locust.
STAGE
Wendy Hiller, 90, appeared in Pygmalion and St. Joan, but also appeared in movies.
Dorothy Loudon, 70, won a Tony Award for her portrayal of the orphanage manager in Annie.
Dora Wasserman, 84, was a maven of Montreal theatre and a champion of the Yiddish language.
WORLD
Rachel Corrie, 23, was an American peace activist killed in Rafah in Gaza Strip.
Luigi Di Bella, 90, an Italian doctor, was known for his controversial efforts to find a cancer cure.
Zoran Djindjic, 50, prime minister of Serbia and former mayor of Belgrade, was an important player in pushing Slobodan Milosevic out of power.
Leopoldo Galtieri, 76, an Argentine general, was leader of the military junta that invaded the Falkland Islands and touched off a war with Britain.
Najeeb Halaby, 87, former chief executive of Pan American World Airways, was father of Jordan's Queen Noor.
Sheik Abu Hassan Aref Halawi, 103, was the spiritual leader of the Druze.
Qusay Hussein, 37, son of Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein, was in charge of the security apparatus protecting his father and his regime.
Uday Hussein, 39, another son of Saddam Hussein, was known for his cruelty and mental instability.
David Kelly, 59, was a British weapons inspector at the centre of a scandal involving the Prime Minister's Office.
Zahra Kazemi, 54, a Montreal-based photojournalist, was arrested in Tehran while on assignment.
Prince Sadruddin Aga Khan, 70, a wealthy philanthropist, held a string of top United Nations humanitarian posts.
Valentin Pavlov, 66, a former Soviet prime minister, helped to lead the failed 1991 coup against Mikhail Gorbachev.
Leni Riefenstahl, 101, made Triumph of the Will for Adolf Hitler.
Edward Said, 67, a Palestinian academic and activist, wrote Orientalism and other books regarding relations between West and East.
Hartley Shawcross, 101, was the chief British prosecutor at the Nuremberg war crimes.
Edward Teller, 95, was the "Father of the Hydrogen Bomb."
Denis Thatcher, 88, was the husband of former British prime minister Margaret Thatcher.
Hugh Trevor-Roper, 89, wrote the acclaimed book The Last Days of Hitler, but later tarnished his reputation by "authenticating" the infamous "Hitler Diaries."
Carlo Urbani, 46, was the doctor who identified SARS.
Bernard Williams, 73, was an Oxford professor who is credited with reviving the field of moral philosophy.
WRITING
Alan Davidson, 79, was the editor of the Oxford Companion to Food.
Herb Gardner, 68, wrote I'm Not Rappaport.
Winston Graham, 93, wrote the Poldark series and life in 18th-century Cornwall.
Monica Hughes, 77, won two Governor-General's Awards.
Jean Kerr, 80, wrote Please Don't Eat the Daisies.
Robert McCloskey, 88, wrote and illustrated children's books, including Make Way for Ducklings.
George Plimpton, 76, was a multifaceted writer, actor and "participatory" journalist whose books include Paper Lion.
Carol Shields, 68, a winner of the Governor-General's Award, wrote books that included The Stone Diaries, Larry's Party and Unless.
William Steig, 95, a cartoonist and illustrator for The New Yorker, wrote Shrek!
Leon Uris, 78, wrote Exodus and QB VII.
Sloan Wilson, 83, put The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit into the American lexicon.
Paul Zindel, 66, wrote the Pulitzer-prize winning play The Effects of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds.
BUSINESS
Izzy Asper, 71, was a colourful Winnipeg media mogul.
Joseph Coors, 85, helped to build his grandfather's small brewery into the third-largest in the United States.
Edward Lanctot, 84, co-founded a small hardware company that became the True Value chain.
Peter Morgan, 83, headed the company that makes the old-fashioned British roadsters that bear his name.
Laurence A. Tisch, 80, co-founded Loews Corp. and also headed CBS.
Kemmons Wilson, 90, founded the Holiday Inn chain of hotels.
POLITICS
Pierre Bourgault, 69, was a founder of modern-day Quebec's independence movement.
Rosemary Brown, 72, was the first black woman in Canada elected to a provincial legislature.
Lester Maddox, 87, was former governor of Georgia.
Daniel Patrick Moynihan, 76, was a former U.S. senator and U.S. ambassador to the United Nations.
John Munro, 72, was a scrappy former Liberal MP and cabinet minister.
Donald Regan, 84, was chief of staff under U.S. president Ronald Reagan.
John Savage, 70, was former premier of Nova Scotia.
Robert Stanfield, 89, was a former leader of the federal Progressive Conservatives.
Strom Thurmond, 100, was the longest-serving and oldest U.S. senator ever.
Ron Ziegler, 63, was press secretary for U.S. president Richard Nixon.
ALSO NOTABLE
Ben Albert, Daniel Arato, Scott Broshko, Alex Pattillo, Michael Shaw, Marissa Staddon and Jeff Trickett, all 15, died in an avalanche while on a school trip.
Michael Anderson, 43, Willie McCool, 41, Laurel Clark, 41, Kalpana Chawla, 41, Rick Husband, 45, Dave Brown, 46, and Ilan Ramon, 48, were astronauts in Columbia space shuttle disaster.
Robert Atkins, 72, created the low-carbohydrate Atkins diet.
Garner Ted Armstrong, 73, an evangelist, was the son of Worldwide Church of God founder Herbert W. Armstrong.
John Bourne, 84, led the Devil's Brigade during the Second World War.
Barry Broadfoot, 77, was a journalist who turned to writing oral histories that documented many facets of Canadian life.
Harold Coxeter, 96, was widely considered the greatest classical geometer of his time.
Richard Doyle, 80, was a former senator and editor-in-chief of The Globe and Mail.
Jinx Falkenburg, 84, a model and actress, was a pioneer of the TV and radio talk show format.
Sir J. Paul Getty Jr., 70 was reclusive American-born billionaire philanthropist and art lover.
Daniel G. Hill III, 79, a black civil-rights activist, was Ontario's first human-rights commissioner.
Hugh Kenner, 80, was an English professor and literary critic known for his writings on Ezra Pound and James Joyce.
Sydney Omarr, 76, was an astrologer.
Suzy Parker, 70, was a high-profile model in the 1950s.
CARTOONING
Al Hirschfeld, 99, was known for caricatures that appeared in the New York Times and other publications.
Bill Mauldin, 81, was famous for his cartoons from the front lines of the Second World War featuring G.I.s Willie and Joe.
John P. Saunders, 79, wrote comic strip Mary Worth for 24 years.
Bob Unger, 63, drew the Herman cartoons.
INNOVATION
Charles Rolland (Charlie) Douglass, 93, invented the Laff Box, which has been supplying recorded audience reaction for television shows since the 1950s.
William John Dyer, 89, a Canadian fisheries scientist, developed the fish stick.
Elliott Jaques, 86, a Canadian
psychoanalyst, coined the phrase "midlife crisis."
Estel Wood (Ed) Kelley, 86, a food-industry executive, is credited with introducing brands such as Tang and Cool Whip.
Eleanor Lambert, 100, a U.S. fashion pioneer, invented the Best Dressed List in 1940.
