The singer Andy Williams died yesterday at his home in Branson, Missouri. He was 84 years old. The LA Times obit offers a personable portrait of the late popular singer.
Williams was best known for his smooth rendition of "Moon River," a song whose sentiments and style have absolutely no affinity with the country music typically featured at Branson's musical venues. My father enjoyed Williams' singing style. I can still see Pop putting a Williams album on a turntable, watching the needle reach the recording, and listening to some mellow, orchestra-backed vocals. It wasn't my musical taste at the time, but my dad liked the songs and he appreciated Williams' ability to deliver a polished number.
My other memory of Williams involved his defense of his ex-wife Claudine Longet. She was accused of murdering her boyfriend, the Olympic skier "Spider" Sabich. She claimed the weapon fired accidentally. I've never bought her story, and I thought it odd that Williams publicly rallied to her side. However, love can provide powerful motivation. Williams, who cared about Longet (something the ex-Las Vegas dancer did not always reciprocate), felt he did the right thing.
Williams also appeared on Christmas TV specials in which he sang in a warm, unthreatening family setting. They look campy today. Ironically, contemporary hipsters are desperately trying to recreate the wholesome atmosphere Williams could evoke with his voice and presence. However, they are too jaded to deliver what Williams did with such conviction from the Eisenhower era up to the final days of George W. Bush's presidency.
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