Michael Hathaway was both a seeker and a vagabond.
Born on the eve of World War II, he grew up on a majestic Richard Neutra–designed estate in Ojai, then lived from age 17 until his death last week at 77 mostly in Santa Barbara — but also, for variety’s sake, in San Francisco, Palo Alto, Cambridge, Berlin, Hydra, Prague, and Kathmandu. After decades working as an environmental, anti-war, and gay rights activist, he focused in his final years on publishing several books, the last in 2018, a kaleidoscopic memoir he hoped “distilled,” he said, “the possible happiness of life.”
The almost gravitational pull of Michael’s loving spirit, deep intelligence, and unstinting idealism — which so memorably so often quickly enveloped so many of the people he met — had its taproots in his mystical, German immigrant mother, his loving and erudite American diplomat grandparents, and his supremely unusual early schooling.
