A gentleman and a musician, since 1963 Charlie Watts was the backbone of the Rolling Stones. Impeccably dressed and unfailingly on tempo, Watts remained a faithful husband and a rocklike cornerstone of the band for nearly 60 years, despite his distaste for touring. He, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards are the only three to have played in the Stones since the beginning. This is the end of an era.

Watts had a solid career outside the Stones, loving jazz, boogie-woogie, big band and other demanding styles. He published a book on Charlie Parker, and leant his graphic arts talents to design covers for albums such as Between the Buttons as well as logos, posters and tour stages.

In an anecdote that says much about the man, Mick Jagger—possibly under some influence—phoned Watts in the middle of the night, asking, “Where’s my drummer?” According to legend, Watts got up, shaved, dressed in a suit and tie, confronted Jagger and punched him, saying: “Don’t ever call me your drummer again. You’re my fucking singer!”

I liked the guy. I was driving late at night on a deserted road, listening to his CD, The ABC & D of Boogie Woogie, unfortunately paying more attention to the music than the speed limit. The following day I saw Charlie, and told him that I’d been listening to the chuckka-chuck train sound of his CD and was nailed for doing 75 on a 55 mph road. “Uh oh,” Charlie said. He asked someone to hand me an extra CD, and told me to play it for the judge. “He might let you off.”

Charlie Watts was 80.

—Suzanne Cadgène