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Elaine
Stritch -- My New York Mom
& Best Friend Forever
Tricia
Walsh-Smith
I first met iconic actress and Broadway star Elaine Stritch,
a.k.a “Stritchy” in 1995. A mutual pal told me that I just had
to meet her, gushing, “She’ll fall ass over head in love with
you!” He was spot on – we hit it off immediately and Elaine
fast became my surrogate mum, nicknaming me “the brat” and lecturing
me on everything from over-exuberance to my occasional disgusting
habit of puffing on cigarettes when stressed, and it was because
of her that I met my ex-husband.
Elaine was performing in “Showboat” on Broadway, and between
the matinee and evening show decided to attend Sheridan Morley’s
wedding to Ruth Leon on Park Avenue, dragging me along with
her. A mere half-hour into the nuptials and bored out of her
tree, she pulled me aside to inform me that she was heading
back to the theatre -- was I leaving with her? Of course I was
-- weddings, unless they’re mine that is – really aren’t my
cup of tea.
Ever cantankerous, Stritch then did an about-turn and ordered
me to stay. “Stick around– what else you gonna do tonight, watch
LA Law for God's sake? You never know, you might meet someone
interesting.”
She was right – I did meet someone interesting -– Philip J.
Smith, then Executive Vice President of the Shubert Organization,
undoubtedly the most powerful theatrical organization in the
world. We were married four years later with Stritch as Matron-of-Honor.
Elaine was a riot, inciting my mother to copy her and look bored
for the wedding pics -- holding my train so high that everyone
could see my knickers, and when I became so engrossed shaking
hands and muttering “Peace be with you” to guests that I lost
my footing, tumbled down four stone steps and landed in a crumpled
heap at the bottom, Elaine stood at the top still clutching
my train yelling “Well I knew you’d fallen for Phil kid, but
this is taking it a bit too far…”
Elaine looking bored. Tricia's Mum trying
to, but supressing giggles
Yup -- there’s no one like Stritch -- she’s a one off, and over
the years has supported me through the good and the bad -- such
as my brother’s suicide – mum’s passing, and the “YouTube Divorce”
debacle.
Ah, my Elaine, my friend, my champion -- I can assure you that
a heart of gold beats beneath the gruff facade, and ever since
I left New York I've been in regular contact with her, always
believing that one-day I'd return for good -- we'd once again
hang out together, and life would return to normal. But now
I know it will never be, because Elaine's leaving New York City
as her health has deteriorated and she wants to be close to
her family in Michigan. She informed me of her decision last
year while I was in the city, and as we sipped cappuccinos in
the Three Guys on Madison Avenue, she said, "The year will whizz
by kid -- I'll be gone before you know it," but it never sank
in. I never believed in a million years that she meant it, even
though she took off to the Mid-West for ten days to look at
properties. No -- she would never leave -- New York without
Stritch, would be like strawberries without cream.
Tricia and Elaine last summer in The Three
Guys Diner on Madison
But now the time has come and she leaves Manhattan the end of
this month -- an era will be over.
The loss only hit me last night while reading the reviews of
her farewell show at the Carlyle Hotel, the audience was littered
with showbiz royalty such as Tom Hanks, Liza Minnelli, Tony
Bennett, Bernadette Peter's et al. Why hadn't I been there?
I've attended most of her opening nights and performances in
and out of town ever since I've known her, and now never will
again. I thought we had tomorrows, but we haven't -- only yesterdays,
and the life I once knew, that I believed only momentarily lost
will never come back around. My heart is pouring blood. The
illusion I'd foolishly held onto that I'd return to Manhattan
and life would resume from where I'd left off has dissolved
along with Elaine's impending departure.
Stritch and Tricia out on the town
So now the
tears fall and my mind drifts back to the days when laughter
came easily and life was a joy. Elaine looms in front of me
larger than life -- we're at the beauty parlor in Saks. She's
in curlers, leggings, a bra, and belts out "Ladies who Lunch".
With a huge flourish she says, "And now I bow to great applause."
I chuckle.
Stritch belting out Sondheim
We are now
leaving Saks through the staff entrance -- Elaine always insists
on exiting this way. She is almost coming to blows with one
of the store assistants.
"You pushed me," the woman snaps.
"I didn't push ya!"
"You did!"
"Didn't!"
"Did!"
"Didn't!"
The verbal altercation becomes more heated until finally once
out on the street Elaine growls "Listen lady -- if I'd have
pushed ya I would say so and apologize!"
The woman stares at Stritch, bemused.
"Oh... well ok... I did think you pushed me, but as you didn't
then I'm sorry for accusing you. I'm sorry -- really sorry."
"Apology accepted."
Embarrassed and suitably contrite the woman takes her leave
and we watch in silence as her figure recedes into the distance.
Stritch then turns to me and with the most mischievous expression
imaginable chortles, "I did push her!" Another situation dancing
in my head is the time that we were staying at a designer pal's
Southampton home. A gay couple, Jim and Henry, are also in residence.
On this particular afternoon they are rushing off to see a circus
nearby. Elaine is sunbathing around the pool and the boys are
about to take their leave when a bloodcurdling scream pierces
the air. "Ah! Shit! Help! Help!"
A wasp has stung Stritch.
The two boys rush to her aid.
"Get me some ice!" Elaine barks. "No not that ice! My ice! Dry
ice! And a poultice -- meat tenderizer!"
I realize that involving myself in Elaine's drama will be a
no-win situation and observe her performance from a safe distance,
a hand clamped firmly over my mouth to stifle giggles.
"Meat tenderizer -- put meat tenderizer on it!" she yells. "And
call the doctor-- NOW!"
"Yes -- yes... of course!"
And so they run from pool to kitchen -- kitchen to pool. Nothing
they do is right.
"Is that tenderizer?" Stritch growls as Henry attempts to place
a poultice on the sting. "Let me check!"
She snatches the poultice out of his hand. "It's tartare sauce!
Why are you putting tartare sauce on my wasp sting?"
"Sorry Miss Stritch... I couldn't find any meat tenderizer..."
"So you decided to use tartare sauce instead! What am I -- Dover
Sole? Where's Jim?"
"I'm here Miss Stretch. I've called the doctor."
"It's Stritch, not Stretch! You're not having a good day are
you?" she growls.
And so the charade plays on until finally Elaine calms down
and suddenly notices that I'm on the missing list. "Where's
the brat?"
"Here Elaine."
"I just got stung by a wasp. Where were you?"
"Keeping out of the firing line."
"Wise guy."
That evening Henry and Jim treat Elaine and I to dinner in Southampton.
They are smitten with Stritch -- completely and utterly under
her spell.
Oh -- so many memories -- such as the evening Elaine wanted
me to walk with her up Madison Avenue.
"Walk with me."
"No I'm going the opposite way."
"Walk with me!"
"No!"
"Walk with me and we'll talk about you for two minutes."
I walked with her.
And then there was the time she owned a house in Sag Harbor.
She was developing her one-woman show "Elaine Stritch at Liberty"
with the Artistic Director of the Public Theatre, George Wolfe,
and had broken her ankle. Philip and I stopped by to see her
and found her propped up in bed, right leg elevated and a smug
grin on her face.
"George Wolfe has to come out to Sag Harbor to work on the show,"
she smirked. "'Cos I'm incapacitated."
Hmm -- I was dubious -- she seemed too happy.
On leaving the "invalid" I voiced my suspicions to Philip. "I
don't believe for a minute she's broken her ankle. If she was
laid up she'd be in a foul mood -- everyone knows Stritch can't
sit still and hates to be incapacitated. I think she's acting
so Wolfe has to come to her to work on the show and she doesn't
have to travel into the city." "I wouldn't be surprised." Philip
said. "She's a sly old fox."
Stritchy and I had a special bond, and although tough on the
outside she has a soft center and needs love and attention.
A few years back she called me and said that she'd dreamt about
me the previous night. Apparently I'd told her that I loved
her.
"You know -- I have to hear that you love me in a dream. You've
never said you love me," she accused. "Course I love you Elaine.
It goes without saying."
"Well you should say it," she scolded. "It's nice to be told."
Last night I called her at her New York home, the Carlyle Hotel.
A chap called Hunter came on the line -- Elaine's diabetic and
was being checked by her doctor, as her blood sugar was high,
so she couldn't come to the phone. "Can I give her a message?"
Hunter asked.
I was silent awhile -- suddenly overcome with emotion. Finally
I managed to blurt "Yes -- please tell her I love her."
"I will."
Oh Elaine -- I am inconsolable.
Yesterdays
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