Tupac lives! Why fans are fascinated by stars who die tragically

AALIYAH and Lisa (Left Eye) Lopes. Bob Marley and Jimi Hendrix. Otis Redding and Bessie Smith. Jam Master Jay, Tupac Shakur and the Notorious B.I.G.

Stars who die young or tragically never really die; they are celebrated and catapulted to the immortal status of icons, whose "last" works of art are constantly being re-mixed, re-packaged and re-released so that their voices can be heard, as Tupac put it, "until the end of time."

Some of the lost ones, like Bob Marley and Lisa (Left Eye) Lopes, were at the prime of their game when they passed. Others, like Aaliyah and Jimi Hendrix, were on the cusp of superstardom. Still others, like Otis Redding, Tupac and the Notorious B.I.G., would only achieve their most significant fame and commercial success posthumously. Some of these artists have left behind a cache of unfinished and unreleased works to ensure that the final curtain will never fall on their music.

There is nothing new about this. In 1937, 7,000 people gathered in Philadelphia to attend the funeral of Bessie Smith. In 1972, over 40,000 fans and dignitaries celebrated the life of Mahalia Jackson in Chicago. In 1981, hundreds of thousands of fans (including the prime minister), attended Bob Marley's funeral in Jamaica.

What is new, however, is the technological advances that allow mourners to instantaneously grieve with one another across geographical boundaries. The electronic age, consisting of the Internet, 24-hour news channels and the like, has transformed the once unorganized group of mass mourners into an active, organized cluster of celebrity worshippers, feeding on instant news updates, rumors concerning the celebrities' demise, and in the case of Tupac Shakur especially, gossip about his "real" whereabouts.

As a result, sociologists explain that the untimely death of a celebrity is generally followed by a modern-day communal mourning ritual.

First, the fans' makeshift memorials (complete with teddy bears and flowers), suddenly appear at the celebrity's birthplace, the final resting place, or at the scene of the celebrity's death. Next, the radio stations clutter the airwaves with the hit songs, the new songs, and the forgotten songs.

And finally, the close family members and friends of the fallen usually offer some closure in the form of final homecomings that are indeed fit for a king or queen--millions of television viewers watched the royalty of rap, R&B, and hip-hop pack the house at Aaliyah's funeral service in Manhattan, and openly threw their support behind Aaliyah's mother, Dana Haughton, as she released 22 white doves in honor of her daughter. And the Notorious B.I.G.'s funeral was equally spectacular.

At least one expert likens this fascination with departed celebrities to a modern-day religious movement.

"I would call celebrity worship a new form of religious culture that is very popular in the 20th century," explains Gary Laderman, professor of religion at Emory University, and author of Rest in Peace: A Cultural History of Death and the Funeral Home in 20th Century America. "We live in a society that venerates a celebrity, and people may have very complicated relationships with them. They may not even know the fallen celebrity, yet they draw quite a bit of meaning from them, which is what religion does. It helps to construct meaning in their lives. Fans are able to draw meaning from this image appearing in the media, and they try to work in some way to maintain those connections."

There was not a public funeral service for Tupac Shakur--adding to the growing conspiracy theory of many fans that he is indeed still alive--but his legion of fans all around the globe still found deep and meaningful ways to show their love.

In the rundown neighborhoods of Israel, and in some parts of Africa and America, there have been reports of graffiti blasted on walls that screamed, "Tupac Lives!"

Poet Nikki Giovanni decided to keep Tupac alive by getting his "Thug Life" motto tattooed on her arm.

"I wanted to be able to show the world that my generation also mourned the death of Tupac Shakur," Giovanni tells EBONY. "I wanted his mother Afeni to know that people care. He was a great man, a great artist, and six years after he died, we are still talking about him. His importance is self-evident. He meant a lot to his generation because he was sensitive and brilliant."

Today, the spirit of the fallen music icons continues to live on via annual festivals, museum exhibits, clothing, Web sites and even babies' names--surely you've noticed the scores of kindergarteners named Aaliyah and Tupac?--and the vitality of this widespread movement is evident in the dramatic rise in record sales.

According to experts at Nielsen Research Sound Scan, which tallies record sales, it's quite common for an artist's illness or sudden demise to translate into mega record sales. For instance, in the week leading up to Aaliyah's death, sales for her final recording, Aaliyah, hovered around 62,000; but immediately following the fatal accident, the sales surged to 306,000 and dominated record charts.