Obituary

If Don Quixote is considered the first modern novel, One Hundred Years of Solitude might be the last.

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The actor, found dead this afternoon in his New York apartment, defied all Hollywood convention.

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Pete Seeger: "For Too Much of My Life, I Preached to the Converted"

A previously unpublished interview

A previously unpublished interview with Pete Seeger.

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Maybe it is good, in retrospect, that Pete Seeger's early, objectionable, Soviet-line performances can still be heard. 

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The poet and activist was the soul of the New Jersey city.

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Remembering a brief encounter with the self-destructive, life-affirming star.

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He was a hero who ranks with Abraham Lincoln. But he left a more ambivalent legacy, too.

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Tom Foley's obit included details about a scurrilous anti-gay smear against him. And then it had this headline:

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I started working with Stanley at The New Republic in 1978, when I was twenty-four and he was sixty-two. The best part of my job was proofreading his reviews. It involved no work, since we both regarded him as editorially infallible. We spent a few moments each week on the phone correcting the typesetter’s errors, then moved on to an art he relished as much as film: conversation. That is, he entertained, and I listened.

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The first time I met Stanley I had just started at The New Republic in the job of assistant literary editor, which has long entailed being the liaison between Stanley and the magazine. For several months I had spoken to him on the phone each week. I knew him by his singular voice, which had the genteel lilt of a nineteenth-century aristocrat. (“It’s delightful to hear from you, Laura dear.”) He was in his mid-nineties then, with bad eyesight, and used e-mail, endearingly, with cheerful ineptitude.

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