Death
In 1961, White's health began a sharp decline as he experienced the first of the three heart attacks and the progressive heart disease that would plague him over his final eight years. As a lifelong smoker he also had progressive emphysema, in addition to ulcers, and severe psoriasis in his hands and calcium deficiency in his body that would cause the skin to peel off of his fingers and leave his fingernails broken and bleeding with every concert. During the last two years of his life, as his heart weakened dramatically, his wife Carol would put him in the hospital for four weeks after he completed each two-week concert tour. Finally, the doctors felt his only survival option was to attempt a new procedure to replace heart valves. The surgery failed.
He died on the operating table on September 6, 1969 at the North Shore Hospital in Manhasset, New York.
When Associated Press interviewed Harry Belafonte, upon learning of White's passing, he said, "I can't tell you how sad I am. I spent many, many hours with him in the years of my early development. He had a profound influence on my style. At the time I came along, he was the only popular black folk singer, and through his artistry exposed America to a wealth of material about the life and conditions of black people that had not been sung by any other artist."
Read more about this topic: Josh White
Famous quotes containing the word death:
“I asked myself, “Is it going to prevent me from getting out of here? Is there a risk of death attached to it? Is it permanently disabling? Is it permanently disfiguring? Lastly, is it excruciating?” If it doesn’t fit one of those five categories, then it isn’t important.”
—Rhonda Cornum, United States Army Major. As quoted in Newsweek magazine, “Perspectives” page (July 13, 1992)
“Oh Death he is a little man,
And he goes from do’ to do’ ...”
—Federal Writers’ Project Of The Wor, U.S. public relief program (1935-1943)
“She lived in storm and strife,
Her soul had such desire
For what proud death may bring
That it could not endure
The common good of life....”
—William Butler Yeats (1865–1939)