IMAGES: GOODBYE

William O. Douglas, 81, energetic outdoorsman, author of more than a score of books and, above all, an uncompromising champion of what he liked to call the "first-ness of the First Amendment." During his 36 years as a Supreme Court Justice --a record term--the onetime SEC chairman and law professor at Yale and Columbia battled vigorously to safeguard the rights of individuals.

Jimmy Durante, 86. For nearly 65 years, from New York vaudeville stages to television screens across the land, "the great Schnozzola" cracked his gentle gags, rasped out his endearingly silly ditties and strutted his way into the hearts of millions. Goodnight, Mr. Durante, wherever you are.

Alfred Hitchcock, 80, much mimicked master of cinematic suspense who in 53 meticulously crafted films concocted riveting nightmares of evil that set the world squirming, and sometimes laughing (albeit nervously), at the anxieties that bedevil just about everyone.

Alexei Kosygin, 76, pragmatic politician-engineer who, with Leonid Brezhnev, wrested power from Nikita Khrushchev in 1964 and served as Premier until, in failing health, he quit his post last October.

John Lennon, 40, brilliant musician and imaginative wordsmith who, as the Beatles' poet laureate and primus inter pares, stressed the themes of peace and love, helping not only to touch but to transform an entire generation.

Alice Roosevelt Longworth, 96, eldest daughter of President Teddy, wife of House Speaker Nicholas and a tart-tongued Washington hostess who delighted in the biting quip. In her upstairs sitting room she kept a pillow embroidered with the advice, "If you can't say anything good about someone, sit right here by me."

George Meany, 85, gruff, cigar-puffing chieftain of U.S. labor who rose from Bronx plumber to president of the AFL-CIO from its birth, in 1955, to 1979. Whether battling for fuller union lunch pails, assailing Communism, or dismissing critics who accused him of being too conservative, Meany lectured Presidents and public alike with equal bluntness.

Jesse Owens, 66, black track-and-field star whose four gold medals in the 1936 Berlin Olympics dashed Hitler's dream of staging a showcase for Aryan supremacy.

Jean Piaget, 84, innovative Swiss psychologist who devoted his life to mapping out how children think. During a 60-year career, he published more than 50 books and evolved the theory that knowledge is not poured into a child like water into a cup but that a child helps create what he learns through his own activity.

Jean-Paul Sartre, 74, French existentialist philosopher who embraced Communism and later Maoism and deeply influenced a generation of postwar intellectuals. In novels (Nausea), plays (No Exit) and tracts (Being and Nothingness), Sartre contended that God is dead and that man thus defines himself through his own actions.

Peter Sellers, 54, peerless English master of mirth, a man of many faces who slipped easily into parts as diverse as the crazed Dr. Strangelove, the bumbling Inspector Clouseau of Pink Panther fame and the brilliantly bland gardener turned presidential adviser in Being There.

Mohammed Reza Pahlavi, Shah of Iran, 60 Becoming Shahanshah (King of Kings) of Iran at 21, he was forced into exile a decade later and returned in 1953, with help from the CIA, determined to transform his feudal nation into a modern state. Increasingly imperious and remote, he was driven again from his land in 1979 when his reform-minded "white revolution" aroused traditionalist Muslims and begat a very different revolt. In the end, he straggled through five countries as an unwanted guest before dying in Egypt.

Josip Broz Tito, 87. Wily, autocratic, ruthless and more than a little vain, Tito effectively ruled Yugoslavia's ethnic crazy quilt for nearly 35 years. Breaking with Stalin in 1948, he fashioned an unorthodox Communism streaked with touches of capitalism ("self-management"). In the 1950s he helped found the "nonaligned" movement, to which most Third World nations now profess allegiance.

Mae West, 87. "When I'm good, I'm very good, but when I'm bad, I'm better," she cooed, and nobody made sex more of a laughing matter than the voluptuous blond from Brooklyn. Winking and leering across the screen during her heyday in the 1930s, Mae delighted a generation with her slightly suggestive one-liners.

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