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Are prominent people dying at a faster rate these days, or is it just your imagination?
You might well wonder that if you're a regular reader of The New York Times's print edition where front-page obituaries, this past year, became something less than a rarity.
In fact, the number of front-page obits more than doubled in 2012 over the year before â" there were 30 ⦠in 2011, there were 14.
The trend began with Joe Paterno, the longtime Penn State football coach, last January, and ended with Jean Harris, the headmistress-turned-convicted killer, last Saturday.
Between those two, deaths that were treated as front-page news included Arthur Ochs (Punch) Sulzberger, The Times's longtime publisher; the composer Marvin Hamlisch; the artist LeRoy Neiman; and the writer Nora Ephron â" among others.
Never, in the past 15 years, have there been more than 14 front-page obituaries in a single year - 10 or 12 has been a more typical number.
So this year's 30 is quite a jump. I asked Dean Baquet, the managing editor for news, about the change. Mr. Baquet, who is usually the ranking editor at the afternoon news meeting where front-page choices are made, said he has long felt that a well-written obituary of a pro minent person is a good choice for Page A1.
âThe best New York Times obituaries are really terrific feature stories,â he said. âThey fly onto the front page.â
As newspapers continue to try to differentiate themselves from the many other media choices available, he added, âwe look more closely at things that we do better than anyone else.â
Obituaries do often fit that bill. In addition, Mr. Baquet said, The Times is blessed with a strong Obituaries department, with three editors, a news assistant and seven writers, including the Pulitzer Prize winner Robert D. McFadden, who works strictly on advance obituaries.
William McDonald, the Obituaries editor, said he's pleased with the appearance of so many obituaries on the front page. âWe like to promote our wares,â he told me. And, he said, obituaries are âone of our franchisesâ at The Times. âWe have very good writers and very good subjects.â
Obituaries, he said, are essentially journalistic profiles âthat open windows onto the recent past.â
Mr. Baquet also praised the quality of writers like Margalit Fox.
âIf you look at Margalit's oeuvre for the year, what you'll see is a group of elegant, perfect stories,â Mr. Baquet said. In 2012, Ms. Fox wrote front-page obituaries of the magazine editor Helen Gurley Brown, the author Maurice Sendak and the poet Adrienne Rich.
Her talent and sense of fun were on full display in the Brown obituary, which began:
Helen Gurley Brown, who as the author of âSex and the Single Girlâ shocked early-1960s America with the news that unmarried women not only had sex but thoroughly enjoyed it - and who as the editor of Cosmopolitan magazine spent the next three decades telling those women precisely how to enjoy it even more - died on Monday in Manhattan. She was 90, though parts of her were considerably younger.
Mr. Baquet said that he looks for several qualities in an obituary as he considers it for the front page.
âOf course, it has to be about a compelling and significant figure,â he said. Beyond that, âsometimes, the writing elevates it to the point where it becomes a mini history lesson.â
And expertise figures into the mix: When a music critic, for example, brings his knowledge and expertise to writing an obituary of a performer or composer, that can be a factor in choosing it for the front page.
The music critic Jon Pareles's description of the disco singer Donna Summer in May helped catapult her obituary onto the front page:
With her doe eyes, cascade of hair and sinuous dance moves, Ms. Summer became the queen of disco - the music's glamorous public face - as well as an idol with a substantial gay following. Her voice, airy and ethereal or brightly assertive, sailed over dance floors and leapt from radios from the mid-'70s well into the '80s.
Mr. Baquet noted one other appeal of the well-constructed obituary: âThey're just great stories - and unlike the fiscal cliff, they have a beginning, a middle and an end.â (For a look at some of the best obituaries of late 2011 through September 2012, check out âThe Socialite Who Killed A Nazi with Her Bare Hands,â the second annual compilation of Times obituaries published by Workman Publishing.)
As we ponder what prominent figures might shuffle off this mortal coil in 2013, here's a rundown of the number of front-page obituaries in The Times over the past 15 years.
2012 â" 30
2011 â" 14
2010 â" 11
2009 â" 13
2008 â" 11
2007 â" 14
2006 â" 11*
2005 â" 13
2004 â" 10
2003 â" 13
2002 â" 13
2001 â" 9
2000 â" 9
1999 â" 10
1998 â" 13
* Two front-page obituaries appeared on Dec. 26, 2006, for the broadcaster Frank Stanton and the soul musician James Brown.
Few people in Corona, a Queens neighborhood teeming with Colombians, would suspect that the old man with the fedora walking steadily down 82nd Avenue had recently been bestowed the Cruz de Boyacá, one of their homeland's highest honors.
Yet at 92, Nereo López is arguably one of the most accomplished Colombian photographers of his - or any - generation, always on the move as he chronicled the famous and the obscure, the powerful and the dispossessed.
As one who came of age during photojournalism's golden age, Mr. López followed the lead of magazines like Look and Life, but he forsook their American perspective for his own. By the middle of the last century, he was documenting his own country with the same dedication and talent as any of his American or European counterparts. His images show heroism in the daily struggles of his countrymen. It is a sincere, unvarnished yet empathetic look that helped Colombia understand itself.
âMy job was to make stories about human beings,â he said. âAnd most of them were poor.â
But he was quick to add that he portrayed âpoverty, not miseryâ in his travels across the country. He jok es that he moved around so much that he probably spent a total of two years in his car during that peripatetic time. It was reflected in his work.
âNereo López was, above all, a traveling photographer dedicated to story telling as well as a cartographer sometimes, practically of that hybrid genre that combined visual poetry with documentary photo essays,â wrote Santiago Rueda Fajardo, a curator, in an essay accompanying the book âNereo López: Un Contador de Historias,â a retrospective of his work. âAmong other things, his work accomplished the important task of helping to âopen the eyes' of Urban Colombia to valleys and Andean ranges, the Caribbean coasts that were linked by few flights or boats, and a weak railroad system. It was a country that did not know the lives of other people who inhabited the same national territory. Nereo was one of the first to get access to many places and people that had never before been photographed.â
As Mr. López's stature grew, he gained exclusive access during Pope Paul VI's 1968 visit to Colombia and to Gabriel GarcÃa Márquez when he won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1982. Mr. Rueda Fajardo said Mr. López was among the first Colombian photographers to be seen as a âphotographer-artist,â attaining international fame and publishing books.
At the time, Hernán Diaz was the only other photographer in his league, Mr. Rueda Fajardo wrote. But unlike Mr. Diaz - a studio shooter more akin to Richard Avedon - Mr. López was an itinerant, independent journalist who produced photo essays alongside writ ers for an international readership.
His penchant for finding the heroic in the everyday came naturally if painfully. He lost both parents when he was 11 and was raised by different relatives.
âI didn't have time to think about what I wanted to be because I had to survive,â he said.
But like many of his generation, his path to photography was serendipitous. As a teenager, he started working as a porter at a movie house in Baranquilla. Over the course of 10 years he worked his way through the ranks, from porter to projectionist and later manager. In his spare time he sold photos to friends. But even inside the theater he was thinking like a photographer as he took in the Mexican and American films.
âI saw two movies every day,â he said. âI studied the photography of the movies.â
 Inspired by the cinema he was immersed in, he imagined he would some day become a cinematographer. But when he got his first break to work as a newspape r photographer, that soon changed.
The inspiration was always there. âMy projects are reflections of what I saw in the cinema,â he said.
In 1952, he started working for the country's second largest newspaper, El Espectador. Since they had no darkroom, he printed his images in his kitchen at night, using plates and bowls for his chemicals. In1957 he became chief photographer for Cromos, a photographic magazine in the vein of Life or Look.
One of his earliest essays, an epic piece on the Magdalena River, clearly set his signature tone and style. He would also be a correspondent for the Brazilian magazine O Cruzeiro.
After decades shooting and traveling, in 1987 he put everything he had into Ensenanza y Cultura Fotografica, a center dedicated to photography, which had a gallery, darkrooms and a library. But because of what he called poor management, he was forced to close the center and donated 1,200 books to the national library.
He was broke, without a pension and 80 years old.
âIf I was living in Colombia at the time I would be dead,â he said. âIn Colombia, I had no horizon. Now I have a new horizon.â
That is because a friend in New York who knew about his crisis offered him a ticket to New York City. So, true to the spirit of a traveling photographer, Mr. López moved to New York City on an artist's visa in 2000 and became a United States citizen about five years later.
Until recently, he rented two small rooms in a home in Richmond Hill, Queens. Â One was his office - packed floor to ceiling with his archived negatives, books, tear sheets and computer equipment. In the other, he slept on an old wooden bed frame propped on plastic buckets. He recently moved into a more spacious one-bedroom apartment in a building for the elderly in Harlem.
Mr. López has lived simply since moving here, though it is not as if he has languished in obscurity. He has lectured at Harvard, been recognized by the New York City Council and has had work shown at the Queens Museum and El Museo del Barrio.
His square-frame Rolleiflex has given way to a Canon G-9. He searches his archives the way most photographers do - by memory. Always productive, he is still pursuing new ideas.
Mr. Lopez recently returned from a trip to Spain and France during which he was teaching and shooting. He plans to call his latest project, on aging, âThe Golden Age.â
âToday, I am a little tired, and I don't have the energy to work the way I did,â he said.
Tired, but still active.
âThe day I am not an active person,â he said, âI will die.â
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