B10 N THE NEW YORK TIMES OBITUARIESTUESDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2020Faces From the Coronavirus Pandemic
Those We’ve Lost
LONDON — Eric Hall, Britain’s
most colorful soccer agent in the
1980s and ’90s, often confessed
that he knew little about the sport.
Many said that that was his
greatest strength, even if it led to
the occasional mishap: He once
negotiated a bonus for a player on
the condition that he scored 10
goals, only to learn afterward that
the player was a goalkeeper.
Mr. Hall would watch British
soap operas on Saturdays while
games were aired, but would still
write down how many goals his
players had scored. It was part of
a strategy that propelled his role
in the explosion of large-sum
transfers in the early years of the
Premier League, England’s top-
tier competition.
Mr. Hall died on Nov. 16 in Lon-
don. He was 73. Michael Hall Mc-
Pherson, his nephew, who is also
an agent, said the cause was the
coronavirus.
Known for his catchphrase,
“Monster, monster,” his love of ci-
gars and his dazzling outfits, Mr.
Hall honed his negotiating skills in
the music industry by promoting
the likes of Queen and the Sex Pis-
tols. He applied similar methods
in the rapidly changing world of
British soccer.
“He took showbiz into football
and looked at players as stars,
which they weren’t really yet in
the mid- and late-1980s,” Mr. Hall
McPherson said. “And in the nego-
tiation room, he was a lion.”
Eric Hall was born on Nov. 11,
1947, in East London. He quit
school as a teenager and went to
work at a store on London’s Den-
mark Street, known for its record-
ing studios and music shops.
There he befriended, and packed
parcels with, Reg Dwight, who
would go on to music fame as El-
ton John.
Mr. Hall later worked as a publi-
cist for the British record label
EMI, promoting rock bands like T.
Rex and Queen. In 1976, he ar-
ranged a television appearance
for the Sex Pistols that gained
lasting notoriety when the band’s
guitarist used an expletive
against the show’s host.
The agent long claimed that the
Queen frontman Freddie Mer-
cury had written the song “Killer
Queen” about him, even though
Mr. Mercury had said that the
tune was about a call girl. “The
truth is, I’ve been telling that
story for so long that I’m not re-
ally sure myself, but Freddie
would’ve loved it either way,” Mr.
Hall McPherson recalled his un-
cle saying.
Mr. Hall had always been at-
tracted to showbiz, his nephew
said. “He became famous from
creating celebrities, but he pre-
ferred to be the celebrity himself,”
he said.
Mr. Hall left the music industry
in the mid-1980s and for more
than a decade represented doz-
ens of soccer professionals, in-
cluding the Chelsea midfielder
Dennis Wise; Neil Ruddock, who
played for Tottenham and Liver-
pool; and Terry Venables, who
managed England’s national
team.
Mr. Hall negotiated large sala-
ry increases for players and
helped pioneer appearance fees,
branding rights and other com-
mercial bonuses for players.
In 1997, he fell into a coma for
three months and was given a di-
agnosis of thrombotic thrombo-
cytopenic purpura, a rare blood
disease. His roster of players
dwindled, and a new generation
of influential agents like Jorge
Mendes and Mino Raiola rose to
prominence.
Mr. Hall never really recovered
in the soccer world. But he re-
mained a fixture of Britain’s en-
tertainment scene. Since 2013 he
had hosted a weekly show on an
independent radio station in East
London.
Mr. Hall’s survivors include a
brother and a sister in addition to
Mr. Hall McPherson.
“He lived for showbiz,” his
nephew said. “And his life was a
bit of a show.”
Eric Hall, 73
Agent With Star Power
By ELIAN PELTIEREric Hall in 1997. He brought a
showbiz mindset to soccer.
ALLSPORT UThe appointment in 2001 of the
Russian conductor Alexander
Vedernikov, then 37, as music di-
rector of the Bolshoi Theater in
Moscow drew international atten-
tion.
The legendary opera and ballet
company had been demoralized
for years by infighting, bureau-
cratic upheavals, hostile reviews
and a decrepit main building. The
conductor Gennady Rozhdestven-
sky, the Bolshoi’s artistic director,
had just quit in fury over his treat-
ment.
Mr. Vedernikov promised to
shake the institution out of its tor-
por and introduce an ambitious
“advertising, rebranding and pub-
lic relations” program to attract
younger audiences and drag the
Bolshoi into the 21st century, ac-
cording to an article in The Guard-
ian headlined “Quiet Young Con-
ductor Tries to Tame the Bolshoi
Snakepit.”
Eight years later, it was Mr.
Vedernikov who had had enough.
Complaining that the theater
“was putting bureaucratic inter-
ests before artistic ones,” as he
told The New York Times, he re-
signed on the opening day of the
Bolshoi’s summer 2009 tour of Ita-
ly.
Despite the tumult at the Bol-
shoi, Mr. Vedernikov went on to
enjoy a thriving international ca-
reer. He died of complications of
Covid-19 on Oct. 29 in Moscow, his
management, IMG Artists, said.
He was 56.
Mr. Vedernikov was widely
credited with stabilizing artistic
standards at the Bolshoi, enhanc-
ing the orchestra’s profile as a con-
cert ensemble and broadening its
repertory. He helped activate
long-delayed plans for a recon-
struction of the theater, though at
the time of his departure the
project was troubled with delays,
cost overruns and budget cuts. It
was not completed until 2011.
Mr. Vedernikov regularly con-
ducted leading orchestras, includ-
ing the BBC Symphony and the
City of Birmingham orchestras,
the Netherlands Radio and Hel-
sinki philharmonics, and the NHK
Symphony in Tokyo. He led per-
formances at opera houses in Mi-
lan, Venice, Berlin, London and
elsewhere, including New York,
for a run in 2013 of Tchaikovsky’s
“Eugene Onegin” at the Metropol-
itan Opera.
He had an especially close asso-
ciation with Denmark, having
been chief conductor of the Oden-
se Symphony Orchestra from
2008 through 2018. He then be-
came chief conductor of the inno-vative Royal Danish Opera in Co-
penhagen. He had been scheduled
to conduct the Royal Danish or-
chestra in Beethoven’s Ninth
Symphony on Oct. 30. The per-
formance, which went forward,
was dedicated to his memory.
Alexander Alexandrovich Ved-
ernikov was born in Moscow on
Jan. 11, 1964. His father, also
named Alexander, was a noted op-
eratic bass. His mother, Natalia
Gureyeva, who survives him, is a
professor of organ at the Moscow
Conservatory. Other survivors in-
clude his wife, Elena; a daughter,
Natalia, from an earlier marriage;
and a brother, Boris.
Mr. Vedernikov completed his
studies at the Moscow Conserva-
tory in 1990 and five years later
founded the Russian Philhar-
monic Symphony Orchestra. He
remained its leader until 2004.
Along the way he acquired a
reputation for fast tempos, force-
ful fortissimos and a kinetic con-
ducting style. One critic said he
had “supplied his own wild-man
choreography on the podium” in a
performance of Stravinsky’s “The
Rite of Spring.” Yet he could also
bring breadth, richness and sub-
tlety to his music-making.
Mr. Vedernikov was the conduc-
tor in 1992 when, at 15, Jennifer
Koh played Tchaikovsky’s Violin
Concerto during the final round of
the International Tchaikovsky
Competition for Young Musicians
in Moscow. (Two years later she
shared the top award in the main
competition.)
“I hadn’t really played it with
any conductor until Sasha,” she
recalled. “He sat quietly in a cor-
ner, intensely listening as I started
to play, and his eyes lit up.” From
that moment, she said, Mr. Ved-
ernikov had “that ability to really
hear how I played and give me the
space to be myself.”
“He once told me the sweetest
thing,” Ms. Koh added: “All musi-
cians must always help each
other.”Alexander Vedernikov, 56
Kinetic Conductor Who Modernized the Bolshoi
By ANTHONY TOMMASINIAlexander Vedernikov in 2012.
He brought richness to music.MARCO BORGGREVEWhen the first wave of the co-
ronavirus pandemic and its eco-
nomic fallout came crashing down
on the north of Italy in March, Gi-
anni Bernardinello, a baker,
started putting baskets full of
bread, pizza and sweets outside of
his shop in Milan’s Chinatown.
“To give a hand to those in
need,” the sign above the baskets
read, “help yourself and think of
others too.”
After putting out the baked
goods, Mr. Bernardinello would
immediately disappear from view
to avoid embarrassing anyone he
might know who was waiting in
line for the handout.
“He said he was putting out left-
overs at night, but I also saw him
putting out fresh bread in the mid-
dle of the day,” said Alessandra De
Luca, 56, a client and a friend. “He
was really worried.”
Mr. Bernardinello died of the co-
ronavirus on Nov. 9 at a hospital in
Milan, his daughter, Samuela
Bernardinello, said. He was 76.
Until he fell ill, he went to his
bakery every day, even though his
daughters had begged him to stay
home. “Between these walls there
wasn’t a day in 130 years that they
stopped making bread,” he used to
say, “even under the bombings in
1943.”
Gianni Bernardinello was born
that year, on Dec. 22, in Montù
Beccaria, a town near Milan; his
parents, Aldo and Carla (Guas-
toni) Bernardinello, had been
evacuated there. His father
worked at a factory that made au-
tomobile engines, and his mother
was a homemaker.
Gianni started working at 12, as
an apprentice goldsmith, to help
support his family. He moved on to
become a fashion photographer
and then started a yarn business.
When the textiles sector went
through a crisis in the 1980s, he
started looking for new business
opportunities. This time hewanted to sell a product that “peo-
ple will always need,” he told his
daughters.
He bought the Macchi Bakery
in 1989. Mr. Bernardinello had
never touched dough before, but
training under the previous pro-
prietor, he quickly learned the
trade — how to knead wheat, corn
or chestnut dough into focaccias,
panettones, cookies and rolls.
The bakery, renamed Berni af-
ter Mr. Bernardinello’s nickname,
became a neighborhood meeting
place, where locals stopped by for
a coffee or to hear Berni talk about
the drones he had built — another
passion — or the jazz festival in
the neighborhood that he had or-
ganized with the Chinese en-
trepreneurs association.
Along with his daughter Samu-
ela, he is survived by his wife, Or-
sola Vinetti; another daughter,
Patrizia Bernardinello; his sister,
Maria Elettra; and four grandchil-
dren.
After the pandemic began, the
bakery became a place where res-
idents could drop off staples like
sugar, pasta or tomato sauce next
to the baskets that his daughters
continued to fill up with sweet
rolls and bread loafs. His daughter
Samuela took over the business.
“He said we must help, since we
can,” she said. “People always
need bread.”Gianni Bernardinello, 76
Milanese Baker Who Fed the Hungry in Hard Times
By EMMA BUBOLAGianni Bernardinello left bas-
kets of bread outside his shop.VIA BERNARDINELLO FAMILYBrandy Marie Houser was determined to
make every event a celebration and every
day an adventure. Friends said she coaxed
them into karaoke and lip-sync contests
and came prepared with prizes and gifts.
She threw surprise parties for their birth-
days. At school and theater group perform-
ances, she cheered the loudest for their chil-
dren.
She loved all things Disney.
“She was the light, and she brought the
fun,” her husband, Kris Houser, said in a
phone interview. “She was a pop culture
ninja. I’ll never be as cool as her.”
Ms. Houser died on Nov. 13 at a hospital in
Modesto, Calif. She was 41. The cause was
Covid-19, her husband said.
Ms. Houser was a hospice care consult-
ant, a career tailored to her gifts of empathy,
encouragement and focus. She guided the
families of the terminally ill to end-of-life
care, informed them of the services and the
equipment hospice agencies provide, orga-
nized nursing and schedules, and answered
myriad questions.
She loved her job, and loved being a re-
source in this way. Though she was on call
24 hours a day, seven days a week, her work
never intruded on her family life. During
the long months of the pandemic, she and
her friends and their children met on Zoom
for karaoke Mondays and bingo Wednes-
days.
Her rendition of Bonnie Tyler’s “Total
Eclipse of the Heart” was pitch perfect, her
husband said.
Brandy Marie Worley was born on Jan.
21, 1979, in Sacramento. Her mother, Linda
Sue Lawrence, was a caregiver at an as-
sisted living facility for people with disabili-
ties. So was her stepfather, Jim Cartmell,
who adopted Brandy.
In addition to her husband, Ms. Houser is
survived by her son, Jude; her stepbroth-
ers, Brent and Jimmy Cartmell; and a step-
sister, Anna Faulk.
The Housers met in Modesto at Discov-
ery Zone, the children’s entertainment
chain, where Ms. Houser, then 19, was
working as a party planner and Mr. Houser
was a “kid coach,” who supervised the chil-
dren as they played. The moment she saw
him, Ms. Houser announced to a co-worker
that Mr. Houser was the man she would
marry. It took a few months; he was seeing
someone at the time.
They shared a passion for Disney, and
over the years, from countless trips to Dis-
neyland, they amassed an impressive col-lection of memorabilia, filling the entire liv-
ing room in their Modesto home with movie
and ride posters, tiki mugs, framed cells
from “The Little Mermaid” and “Pinoc-
chio,” and a small school of Ursula figurines
But their favorite Disney movie was “Up”
(2009), a tender love story with an unlikely
grumpy hero, a 78-year-old widower and
former balloon salesman named Carl,
whose beloved wife, Ellie, died before they
could have the adventures they had
planned for a lifetime. Carl’s late-life feat,
which involves his sailing off to South
America in his uprooted house, held aloft by
thousands of helium-filled balloons, is inter-
rupted by a young stowaway.
“It felt like our story,” said Mr. Houser,
“because Carl and Ellie couldn’t have kids,
and 10 years into our marriage, we didn’t
have any, either.”
The Housers were looking into becoming
foster parents when Ms. Houser became
pregnant with Jude, who is now 11. “He was
our miracle,” Mr. Houser said.
For the couple’s 20th wedding anniversa-
ry last year, in May, they decided to renew
their vows, using “Up” as the party’s theme.
Ms. Houser painted balloons on her shoes,
and Mr. Houser’s father made a balloon
vending cart like Carl’s, which they topped
with a cake decorated with balloons ren-
dered in icing.
A cousin made miniature replicas of
Carl’s house for every place setting, each
little house ringed with a white picket fence,
topped with tiny balloons and nestled in
clouds of cotton. Ms. Houser wore a T-shirt
printed with that same image, Carl’s house
aloft, over which was written, in honor of
her husband, “He’s my greatest adven-
ture.”Brandy Houser, 41
Empathetic Hospice Care Consultant Who Lifted Everyone’s Spirits
By PENELOPE GREENBrandy Houser “was the light, and she
brought the fun,” her husband said.VIA HOUSER FAMILYHe was known as “Dakota Dave,” a walk-
ing, talking billboard for his home state,
North Dakota.
David Dean Andahl was passionate
about farming, cattle ranching and racecar
driving, a sport he pursued at tracks
around the world. He was president of Da-
kota Sports Marketing, where he promoted
the state’s economic and tourism opportu-
nities.
And he was interested in politics. He was
a member of the Burleigh County Planning
and Zoning Commission for 16 years and
served as its chairman for eight.
This year, he sought to take a step up by
running for the state House of Representa-
tives. Mr. Andahl cleared the first hurdle,
winning a heated Republican primary in
June against a longtime incumbent, State
Representative Jeff Delzer, chairman of the
appropriations committee.
Mr. Andahl won the endorsement of two
of the state’s most influential Republicans,
Gov. Doug Burgum and Senator Kevin
Cramer. Mr. Cramer told The Minneapolis
Star Tribune that he had backed Mr. Andahl
“because we need more Trump Republi-
cans in the State Legislature.”
But at the same time, the deadly corona-
virus was surging across the country, espe-
cially in North Dakota. Mr. Andahl, who al-
ready had unspecified health issues, was
cautious about the virus, his family wrote
on Facebook. But in late September he be-
came ill and was hospitalized in Bismarck.
On Oct. 5, with the election a month away,
he died after “a short battle with Covid-19,”the family said. He was 55.
At that point, it was too late to take his
name off the ballot. On Nov. 3, the residents
of District 8, a sprawling rural area north of
Bismarck, elected him to the Legislature
posthumously.
A political squabble ensued over how to
fill the seat. The governor sought to make
an appointment but was blocked by the at-
torney general. The matter remains unre-
solved in court, Loren DeWitz, chairman of
the District 8 Republican Party, said in a
phone interview.
At an outdoor memorial service for Mr.
Andahl, he was remembered for being a
man of his word; for his love of his dogs,
Bear, Zeus and Hank; and for his willing-
ness to lend a hand, whether, as one friend
put it, “building a deck, borrowing a tool,
hauling many loads of dirt or just being
there to drink and listen.” His drink of
choice was Glenlivet single malt.
Mr. Andahl was born on Oct. 30, 1964, in
Bismarck. He obtained an associate degree
from Bismarck State College and studied
animal science at North Dakota State Uni-
versity. His survivors include his parents,
Ronald and Patricia Andahl; his sister,
Darcy; and his son, Charles (Tia) Lacy.
Mr. Andahl was a partner and general
manager of 4T Ranch, which has been in the
Andahl family for three generations. As
Bismarck grew, developers expressed in-
terest in buying pieces of the ranch. Instead
of selling, the family created its own com-
pany, 4T Ranch Developers Inc., with Mr.
Andahl as president, and built a rural hous-
ing subdivision called “The Ranch.”David Andahl, 55
Proud North Dakotan Elected Posthumously to State Office
By KATHARINE Q. SEELYEDave Andahl promoted tourism in North Dakota and ran for the state Legislature.VIA ANDAHL FAMILY