Sallie Ann

Today is Sallie’s birthday. She was a Scorpio and loved telling you that. She was glamorous and funny and generous. We met when I was a freshman and she was a sophomore in the drama department at Catholic University. She was a close friend of my high school friend, Ellen, also at CU, also a Scorpio, so I had standing, knowing two upper-class women of status. She had a gorgeous deep voice, satiny blonde hair, great long legs and snappy repartee. Her roommate Barbara’s family was in the fine textile business, and their room didn’t look like a dorm anywhere — rather, it was like an elegant, comfortable drawing room of a townhouse in Georgetown. There were long silk curtains that “puddled” properly. Pink-tinted bulbs in the lamps and silk patterned lampshades that Sallie hung her necklaces and hair ribbons on. And exotic shawls draped over the chairs and beds. It was splendid and I loved going to visit them (in their dorm room, of all places). I wanted to BE like them. They were a lovely match — Barbara, also gorgeous, was studious, gentle, always at the books, turning in early. Sallie, ok with cutting class, coming home late from rehearsal and maybe a beer at Hap’s, the local crummy (and only) bar near school. They were just a terrific pairing.

Sometimes I’d encounter Sallie on campus — she would scream out my name, rush over and give me a huge hug. Anyone I was with was beyond impressed that this splendid creature knew me, much less called me a pet name.

She had bell-bottoms and was the first person I knew who had an Afghan coat, embroidered like the ones the Beatles wore, and of course with that hair she was even more of a knockout. People really were attracted to her, not only because she was stunning but also because she was so amusing and fun to be with. She had big parts in most of the theatre’s plays and was a marvelous actress, with leading lady allure. She had many boyfriends, and not only from the drama department; a popular frat guy I knew was dying to date her but didn’t have the nerve because he thought she’d only go with the actor guys. Suave, you know? It was hard to keep track of her MANY boyfriends; and she had tons of crushes: Con, David, Greg and Michael (now THAT was a knockout couple) and, later, Gene (whom she met at Barbara’s wedding), Rick, Rob, Henry, Tommy Gardner, Peter Strauss, et al. And, later, Michael.

She wrote me many fantastic letters. You know how much she loved to cook and dine. Here’s an excerpt from one:

“Tommy is indeed here and I made a most marvelous dinner of French onion soup gratinée and shrimp quiche and chocolate mousse with salad and wine of course — boy, did we pig. I have lost some weight due to a recent bout with stomach flu — I couldn’t eat for about three days, most favorably!”

Did you know that she always had a thing for Mick Jagger? Here’s part of another letter:

“I went to a party Saturday night and there was a guy there who was almost dead spit for Mick Jagger, so I nearly fainted and caused a great homecoming scene, but it wasn’t him, unfortunately.”

Then, when she was in London, she wrote:

“This weekend was exceeding strange. I spent all Friday night freezing to death in the queue waiting for standing room tickets for the London ballet. It was a gas — seems that there were these guys there — Harvard and Cornell now studying at London School of Economics, all super intelligent, super fun, so we smoked, talked, slept and went mad together — we were there til 10 AM til we got our tickets. I ended up cooking breakfast for the whole lot, getting virtually no sleep and then going to Covent Garden to see Nureyev and Fonteyn! Oh it was so beautiful — they did Pelléas et Mélisande, I was in supreme ecstasy, when not moaning out loud for sheer joy. We ran round to the boxes closest to the stage to see the curtain calls, which were a ceremony of delight in themselves.

“Of course we stood at the stage door and waited — ah, not in vain. I touched him. I may never wash that hand again. Not to be left out is the fact that, as I was heading towards the bar at first intermission, I nearly fell up the stairs, since Mick Jagger, resplendent in white suit, was off to my right. I smiled and kept going, because I knew I was going to make an ass of myself if I didn’t. He’s gorgeous and a patron of the ballet. An entirely entrancing evening, capped off by promises of better things to come. Barry and Michael, my special favorites of the guys, left for Moscow the next day. I have also met a beautiful boy who keeps snakes and collect antique sabers; he is in Wales at the moment and I miss him and I’m not quite sure why. Yesterday I went out to dinner and to see Lion in Winter, which is so fantastic as to sweep the Academy Awards I am sure. Hey, I touched Rudolph, so my life has not been wasted. My mind, maybe. I wonder if Mick Jagger needs a private secretary…”

In her fabulous letters she told me stories about her auditions. Once she got a NASA film narration gig and they flew her to Houston for an hour and a half of work, paid her $225 and all expenses. But, she said, all her plane reservations and hotel were messed up and she almost had to bunk in with a traveling oil well photographer. She said she had a wild ride in the pilot’s lap in a tiny jitney plane to get to the town she recorded in — said she could count the runway lights. Another one was about our friend Cheryl (another Scorpio), who brought Sallie’s cat over to her apartment; the cat crawled under the brake, Cheryl hit a car and smashed her bumper in and arrived at Sallie’s apartment with a neurotic kitten and in slight hysteria!

Her parents were wonderful. Leila, a nurse, reserved and charming, worked at CU; and Howard, a bear of a man with a big sense of humor, indulged her and Sallie. They adored their girl and she loved them back. She called her father Howard, and occasionally he’d take us to Gifford’s, an old-fashioned ice cream store in Silver Spring. “The sky’s the limit,” he’d beam. Once he bought those giant round spiral lollipops for us and took a picture. They came to all Sallie’s plays and were so proud of her. She told me the story of when her parents came to dinner at-their-daughter’s-first-apt:

“It was quite an occasion and everything was delicious (even if I do say so myself). Secretly, they are thrilled. I went to dinner at my aunt’s and put on a dress and took her flowers, so my parents nearly fainted (fearing jeans and straggly hair) and loved me madly.”

Sallie was fascinated by my family (since I had eight brothers and sisters and she was an only child). She said that she used to act out different personas as a child and some of them were inventions to resemble a sibling.

I tell a story about Sallie. In her Georgetown apartment, she had a photo of herself in a silver frame, taken in Venice. There she was, with that dazzling smile, surrounded by pigeons. I promised myself that I’d go to Venice eventually and then, I, too, could have a picture of myself, surrounded by pigeons! And I’d put it in a silver frame. Just like Sallie’s.

But the most exciting and thrilling part of her life was having her darling daughter, Kate. She wrote to me about how smart and special Kate was, how cute her first words were, how well she did in school, how clever and creative she was, how she stood up for herself, how Leila and Howard were besotted by her. How Kate could do anything. How many friends Kate had. How beautiful she was. How fabulous the Halloween costumes were. She was stunned, excited and elated by her daughter’s talent and success in the world of theater and light. She felt that her own connection to theater was continuing through the talent of her angel daughter.

It’s difficult to believe that Sallie’s life on earth has ended. Her light will never be extinguished for me because she was a force to be reckoned with and she lives on through her lovely, talented, fiercely loyal daughter, Kate. Thank you, Kate, for taking care of my beloved friend.