Remembering Fats Domino

This is a 1956 photograph of singer, composer and pianist Fats Domino. He popularized rock and roll in the 1950s and early 1960s with his songs that include "Blueberry Hill," "Ain't That a Shame," and "Blue Monday." (AP Photo)

This is a 1956 photograph of singer, composer and pianist Fats Domino. He popularized rock and roll in the 1950s and early 1960s with his songs that include “Blueberry Hill,” “Ain’t That a Shame,” and “Blue Monday.” (AP Photo)

In appearance, Fats Domino wasn’t a typical teen idol. He stood 5-feet-5 and weighed more than 200 pounds, with a wide, boyish smile and a haircut as flat as an album cover. But Domino sold more than 110 million records, with hits including “Blueberry Hill,” ″Ain’t That a Shame” and other standards of rock ‘n’ roll.

Domino, the amiable rock ‘n’ roll pioneer whose steady, pounding piano and easy baritone helped change popular music even as it honored the grand, good-humored tradition of the Crescent City, died early Tuesday. He was 89. Mark Bone, chief investigator with the Jefferson Parish, Louisiana, coroner’s office, said Domino died of natural causes early Tuesday morning.

His dynamic performance style and warm vocals drew crowds for five decades. One of his show-stopping stunts was playing the piano while standing, throwing his body against it with the beat of the music and bumping the grand piano across the stage. Domino’s 1956 version of “Blueberry Hill” was selected for the Library of Congress’ National Recording Registry of historic sound recordings worthy of preservation. The preservation board noted that Domino insisted on performing the song despite his producer’s doubts, adding that Domino’s “New Orleans roots are evident in the Creole inflected cadences that add richness and depth to the performance.”

He was one of the first 10 honorees named to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the Rolling Stone Record Guide likened him to Benjamin Franklin, the beloved old man of a revolutionary movement. Domino became a global star but stayed true to his hometown, where his fate was initially unknown after Hurricane Katrina struck in August 2005. It turned out that he and his family were rescued by boat from his home, where he lost three pianos and dozens of gold and platinum records, along with other memorabilia.

Fats Domino visits with Little Richard in a dressing room after Richards' performance at The Domino Effect, a tribute concert for Domino, at the New Orleans Arena in New Orleans, Saturday, May 30, 2009. A portion of the proceeds from the concert will go to New Orleans Saints quarterback Drew Brees' charitable foundation, the Brees Dream Foundation, which aims to improve local playgrounds and recreation sites in New Orleans. (AP Photo/Patrick Semansky)

Fats Domino visits with Little Richard in a dressing room after Richards’ performance at The Domino Effect, a tribute concert for Domino, at the New Orleans Arena in New Orleans, Saturday, May 30, 2009. A portion of the proceeds from the concert will go to New Orleans Saints quarterback Drew Brees’ charitable foundation, the Brees Dream Foundation, which aims to improve local playgrounds and recreation sites in New Orleans. (AP Photo/Patrick Semansky)

Many wondered if he would ever return to the stage. But in May 2007, he was back, performing at Tipitina’s music club in New Orleans. Fans cheered — and some cried — as Domino played “I’m Walkin’,” ″Ain’t That a Shame,” ″Shake, Rattle and Roll,” ″Blueberry Hill” and a host of other hits. That performance was a highlight during several rough years.

After losing their home and almost all their belongings to the floods, his wife of more than 50 years, Rosemary, died in April 2008. Domino moved to the New Orleans suburb of Harvey after the storm but would often visit his publishing house, an extension of his old home in the Lower 9th Ward, inspiring many with his determination to stay in the city he loved.

“Fats embodies everything good about New Orleans,” his friend David Lind said in a 2008 interview. “He’s warm, fun-loving, spiritual, creative and humble. You don’t get more New Orleans than that.”

In 1998, he became the first purely rock ‘n’ roll musician to be awarded the National Medal for the Arts. But he cited his age and didn’t make the trip to the White House to get the medal from President Clinton.