Loretta Swit, the beloved Emmy-winning actress who brought Major Margaret “Hot Lips” Houlihan to life on MASH*, has died at the age of 87. Her longtime publicist, Harlan Boll, confirmed that Swit passed away peacefully of natural causes in her New York City home. For millions of fans across generations, the news marks the end of an era—a final curtain call for one of television’s most iconic and groundbreaking stars.
Swit’s life was nothing short of cinematic. Born in Passaic, New Jersey, to Polish-American parents, she once described herself as a “fat little kid with braces who was very, very shy.” But one day, sitting in a dark theater next to her mother, absorbing double features and dreaming of the silver screen, she discovered a passion that would define her life. That little girl never stopped dreaming. She studied at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, scraped by with odd jobs, and poured herself into every role she landed, from regional theater to Broadway. She wasn’t chasing fame—she was chasing excellence.
Then came 1972. And with it, the role that would change everything. As Major Margaret J. “Hot Lips” Houlihan on CBS’s MASH*, Swit didn’t just play a character—she reinvented one. What could have been a shallow caricature of a rigid military nurse became, in Swit’s hands, a living, breathing woman of complexity, depth, and razor-sharp wit. Over 11 groundbreaking seasons, Houlihan transformed before the eyes of America—from stern and by-the-book to layered, vulnerable, and unforgettable. Swit’s chemistry with Alan Alda, who played the irreverent Hawkeye Pierce, was electric. Their push-pull dynamic helped anchor a show that constantly balanced absurdity with heartache.
Swit’s portrayal earned her two Primetime Emmy Awards, four Golden Globe nominations, and a permanent place in pop culture history. But more than that, she inspired countless women to see themselves in roles of strength, intelligence, and emotional range. She refused to be confined to someone else’s idea of what a woman—on screen or off—should be.
And she didn’t stop at MASH*. Her career was a tapestry of diverse characters. She appeared on Hawaii Five-O, Gunsmoke, Mission: Impossible, The Love Boat, Bonanza, Batman: The Animated Series, and many more. From comedic turns to dramatic depths, Swit did it all with grace and fire. Her film credits ranged from cult classics like Race with the Devil and S.O.B. to holiday gems like The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. Even well into her eighties, she remained active in her craft, with a final credit in Play the Flute and an upcoming appearance in the yet-to-be-released Second Chances.
Offscreen, Swit was every bit as compelling. She lived life on her own terms, with fierce independence. Though she once said she wasn’t interested in marriage, she fell for actor Dennis Holahan—who coincidentally played a Swedish diplomat who swept “Hot Lips” off her feet on MASH*. Art mirrored life, and they married in 1983. But by 1995, the union had ended. She never remarried and never had children, a choice she embraced fully. Her life, she often said, was rich with love from friends, family, and work. That was enough.
Swit was also a tireless advocate for animal rights. She lent her voice and resources to causes that mattered, often trading the glitz of Hollywood for shelters, sanctuaries, and speaking engagements that promoted compassion. Her activism earned her accolades, but more importantly, it revealed her heart—a fierce, tender one that beat as strongly for animals as it did for fans.
As news of her death spread, tributes poured in. Alan Alda called her “the soul of MASH*,” a woman whose “warmth, humor, and strength touched everyone she met.” Jamie Farr, who played the lovable Corporal Klinger, said, “We lost a giant today. Loretta was family—on and off screen. The world is a little dimmer without her.” Fans lit up social media with personal stories and thanks. One wrote, “She taught me that women could be strong, smart, and funny. Rest in peace, Hot Lips. You changed the world.”
Indeed, she did. Swit broke barriers. She proved that women in television could be just as complex and commanding as men. She showed that characters could evolve, that hearts could grow, and that strength didn’t have to come at the cost of vulnerability. Her impact is indelible, not only on screen but in the lives of those who saw themselves reflected in her roles.
Loretta Swit leaves behind more than a legacy—she leaves behind a blueprint for how to live authentically, fiercely, and unapologetically. She once said, “I love my work and I love my friends. I can’t imagine having a happier life.” It was a life well-lived. A life that mattered.
Rest easy, Loretta. The world is better for having known you.
