Ellen

The first time I SAW Ellen was not the first time I actually met her. It was after lunch in the cafeteria of our all girls’ high school, St Aloysius Academy, in Jersey City. One day, I saw this exotic looking girl who wasn’t in my class sitting at a lunch table with an array of makeup in front of her. She was doing something with a kind of brush I’d never seen, swishing it around her face. I was fascinated. Pretty soon I learned that it was a brand new product called Blush On!

Then she put on what looked like white lipstick and then some shiny pink stuff over it. It was so unusual and she looked like Twiggy or Jean Shrimpton. I wanted to know her and about this stuff but she was an upperclassman and I was too shy to say hello. I never saw her at activities or at any of the basketball games — she seemed to vanish at the end of the school day. Then one day on my way home I saw her on the corner waiting for a bus, with an enormous book bag, spiral notebook and papers sticking out. She said hi, I said hi and that is how I learned that she was a dayhop, commuting from Nutley and that’s why she didn’t stay after school.

Sometimes I’d wait with her til her bus came. She had to transfer to another bus so that was quite a commute for a high school girl. Soon we were best friends and discovered that we loved many of the same things, makeup of course, and she somehow or other magically acquired potions including Moon Drops lotion, Eye Velvet eye shadow and Max Factor Pan Stick. Yes! Magical. She had a very easy and amused affect and she seemed really smart and unusual and — most of all — NICE.

Language start

You all know how she loved language and etymology - her verbal acuity was second to none. We had to take Latin and she loved it - Sister Helen Rita was our teacher and she and Ellen actually conversed in Latin, laughing together, easily, the way you do… and they weren’t saying the obvious things like “et tu, Brute.” No — it was “Amor Vincit Omnia” or “alea iacta est.”  

And then there was music and theatre

Ellen was an alto and had a deep throaty voice that all the girls tried to copy but no one emoted like she did — and she sang all the time.

 

She loved Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, Sherry and Big Girls Don’t Cry. She liked anthemic songs with a dramatic back-story - like “She’s a Fool” and “My Boyfriend’s Back” — And she sang them out loud and plaintively in her navy blue uniform — which — is why she said she always wore dark colors: “We were imprinted, Mary.”

She also loved “Sugar Shack.”  “oh baby to that sugar shack…Make that girl love me when I put on some trash. ..”

“Funny Girl” opened while we were in high school and it was a huge event for her — a revelation and she couldn’t get enough of those great songs, too, like “Oh My Man, I Love Him So”… and “People.” And then Stop the World I Want to Get Off opened and we both got the albums and she and Anthony Newley sang “What Kind of Fool am I” for the next six months. And then “Don Quijote, the Man of a Mancha”…”My Fair Lady: Just You Wait…”

Language, cont’d

My mother drove me over to the Hickeys’ home sometimes, so we could hang out (and sing). The first time I was there I met Ellen’s mother, Mary. She was ravishingly gorgeous, with eyes like Elizabeth Taylor’s and she was wearing a blue trapeze dress, black lace stockings and very high heels. She and Ellen were chatting and I couldn’t quite catch what they said — eye-hay! ello-hay ! Um-kay on-yay in-yay — yes! They were practicing ig-pay Atin-lay for awhile and played a little trick on me. Her room was alcove-y, upstairs and it had a view of a gorgeous tree. She had her Renoir poster of Little Irene in the blue dress and loads of books and Seventeen Magazine (and makeup, of course). I met her older sister, Pat, who was incredibly glamorous and had boyfriends and was terribly witty and sophisticated.

On another visit the house was in a tiz - one of her brothers had put another brother’s LPs in the dishwasher — and they were ruined. She gave the boys her Mona Lisa tolerant smile as if to say, Now boys, I’m in charge and things could be worse.

Little known fact:

We each took the bus from our respective street corners in NJ and met at Port Authority to see “Barefoot in the Park” with Robert Redford and Elizabeth Ashley, who played Corie and Paul Bratter. There’s a scene in the play where after several newlywed nights in a hotel room, Paul has to go back to work and Corie walks him to the elevator. As the door opens on the packed elevator Elizabeth/Corie — in her negligee — calls out to her new husband:

“Thank you, Mr. Dooley. Next time you’re in New York, just call me up.”

Ellen loved that line and probably said it 10,000 times during high school and college.

College

And then she left and went to college in Washington DC. And met her fabulous friends Cheryl, Sallie Anne and Mary Cunningham - all impossibly smart, cool, worldly and talented. Sallie, Cheryl and Ellen were the three musketeers and so much fun. They were in all the plays and wrote serious essays and had lots of boyfriends. Ellen’s room was always filled with books and papers and makeup and perfume. Not for her the Jean Nate or Chantilly that we all wore - no, she had l’Air du Temps or Guy LaRoche. And of course there she met Richard, and their gift to this world was the creation of their remarkable and brilliant son, Ian.

Her jobs

She had the best jobs and got her first one in New York through an ad in the New York Times as a receptionist at a boutique pr firm called McDavid Richmond Rudd. There she met Martha Sykes who was her mentor from the age of 22 until Martha left New York to return to her native Alabama. Ellen was mesmerized by Martha who had studied opera at Juilliard and she and her husband Nelson founded the New York City Opera Guild with their friend, Beverly Sills. She was very glamorous and eventually went into PR — she was tall and slim and wore Chanel and good jewelry and did her hair in a French twist. And, as it relates to our heroine, she saw something in Ellen that she seized on. Martha’s mantra was “clarity, honesty and punctuation.” And Ellen, with her family manners, Saint Aloysius Academy discipline and Catholic University dramatic and speaking skills fit that agency like a glove and they adored her. She was an excellent writer, with a great sense of humor — and an asset to the press team: she understood the difference between serial and Oxford commas, nominative case (shades of Sister Helen Rita), gerunds and independent clauses, and knew not to use too many “ly” adverbs.

Because of her acting training she understood perfectly the critical tenets of a press release: who, what, where, when, and why. Just like a character study. They didn’t have to teach her much, and she was quickly promoted from receptionist to copy writer to jr. account executive to account executive to account supervisor to vice president. She went on to work at Ogilvy and then to Ruder Finn where she found her true home. Her natural critical thinking skills played to the firm’s advantage — she became an expert in disaster management, executive coaching and media relations. She understood how to frame the discussion so that both sides understood the issues and was persuasive in her method of winning opinions and consensus to her point of view.

She mentored so many young women (and, later young men) who in turn went on to terrific careers that the firm decided to create an executive training program which Ellen ran and to this day it is one of the most renowned training programs in the industry. She’d score tickets to Martha Stewart or the Today show, and take the trainees to restaurants and Broadway shows when they graduated from the program. Martha Syke’s hunch turned out to be prophetic and it created good Ellen karma (and great punctuation skills) throughout the agencies of Manhattan for the next two generations.

Lunch

When we were very young and starting out she worked at 295 Madison and I worked in the Pan Am Building. We’d meet for lunch once a week at Chock Full o’ Nuts, where you sat at a counter and got an orange drink and a nutted cheese sandwich for $2, served mostly by Irish girls with whom she always had a friendly word. Then for the rest of our lunch hour we’d go to the department stores and look at things. Mostly we went to Arnold Constable across from the lions and tried on makeup and sprayed perfume. Occasionally we wandered down to Altman’s but that was a long walk and we had to be back at work within the hour. Sometimes we went to the Bird Cage restaurant in Lord & Taylor on the fifth floor where lunch was served from rolling carts and men got two desserts! She would inevitably ask the server, “Which do you recommend? Is it good?” Later, when we became a bit more flush we went to another place called the Potagerie on the west side of Fifth Avenue and 45th Street where they only served soup. It was run by Jacques Pepin and one day he was strolling around the tables and stopped between ours and the next one — and he asked how lunch was in his thick French accent and — you guessed it — Ellen started to speak to him in French and the two carried on a slightly flirtatious chat about leeks or something…

She had such agility with language and fixated on even the most mundane phrases. Some of you probably remember the warning in the subway alerting passengers to dangers, including the electrified third rail.

She would point her finger and sing song those famous lines: “La via del tren es peligrosa. …. No salga afuera.”

She had another favorite that appeared on signs in the parks, especially if we were speaking in code about someone or a situation (co-worker, client, whatever): “Aviso. Veneno de Rata.” (Danger. Rat poison). I can hear her saying it now…

Her travels

Ellen’s jobs took her to some glamorous places like Danbury, CT seemingly once a week, sometimes more, for Union Carbide. That client was crazy about her and she managed the “Keep America Beautiful” account and ran the GLAD Bag-A-Thon, the nation’s largest organized cleanup and recycling program for a long time.

She was invited to all their Christmas and retirement parties and golf outings and knew all their kids’ names and where they went to college. Her primary client at Carbide was Marvin Weaver — she told me once that they spoke practically every day for almost an hour — for years on end.

She also went to the Indy 500, the most prestigious race in NASCAR, for 20 years.  At the track everybody would have caps with Pennzoil and car logos, wearing golf shirts or shorts. Not Ellen. She would be dressed in her favorite black or dark colors, long skirt and heels. And jewelry. And makeup. And toting her enormous briefcase with all her papers and notebooks and hand-outs.

I mentioned that she loved music. On time the Rolling Stones American Tour was going to play at the Brendan Byrne Arena in the Meadowlands. Somehow we got tickets for the show on November 6, a couple days after her birthday. She had to go on some trip that day so we arranged to meet in the parking lot which if you’ve every been there, or any lot in a big arena, is huge, crowded and overwhelming. It was so far from the entry, dark, cold and we clattered across the shoulder and median from the lot in our high heels, she clutching that damn stuffed briefcase “just in case someone breaks into the car…” we wound up having great seats and she sang her heart out all night to Mick and the boys. It’s one of our great memories.

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In 1983 she read Shirley MacLaine’s book, “Out on a Limb” which was about reincarnation and meditation, and it marked a milestone in her journey. She began to study mediumship and became somewhat Zen, believing that nothing in the Universe exists independently, separated from the rest, and espoused the philosophy that people are only humans and nothing more. We cannot answer life’s impossible questions without falling into the trap of illusion. No one knows the answers to the deep questions about life and death. She became interested in the practice of traditional Chinese medicine and subsequently devoted much of her life’s work to collaborating with her friend Nan Lu and her many associates at the Center. The work gave her much meaning and formed a bond of love for the rest of her life.

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Ian

But always, at the heart of her incredibly busy life, was Ian, her pride and joy. When he was very little, he went to Millie and Nicky Mauro’s home where he played with their daughters and was schooled on the finer points of pasta, sausage, peppers and Italian everything. Then there were the Sandy Lane Years, summer camp in Vermont, vacations in Tortola with Pat and Jeremy, Sacred Heart School, and St. Peter’s Prep. Lots of to-ing and fro-ing and in every one of the thousands of conversations we had she always led with, “Let me tell you what Ian did (or said).” She loved you dearly and was beyond proud of you, and your achievements.

Her family was her happiness and she wanted to care for them all. She and her wonderful brother Michael shared the same sense of humor, love of wordplay and 60’s music and she missed him so much. She mourned for Todd and Ian recently found some letters that he wrote to her from California, pouring his heart out. Pat, you know that you are the queen, the sister she worshipped and wanted to be like — all your dramas and happiness were hers as well. Jim, you were her rock and she thought you were brilliant. Peter, of course you were her precious little brother, who could do no wrong and she absolutely doted on you and loved Clarissa, with her regal, gracious presence and beautiful taste. And Marie — her accomplice in decorating and porching — you were a source of great friendship, strength and support. Catherine, she marveled at your talent and grit and was thrilled about the love you brought to Ian.

Marcia, Barbara she thought you were just terrific and loved “The Moose” stories.

Emily, Megan, Michael, Ben, and Jeremy – you know she doted on you all and was so proud of your achievements.

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Ian, you’ve inherited your mother’s intellect, humor and gift of mimicry. Also her big heart, generosity and excellent manners and punctuation.

I realize that I’ve used the word “love” a lot in this little story. But it is hard not to say love because Ellen was all about love. She gave it, she enjoyed it, she felt it around her. She loved life and all her family and friends and colleagues.

I could tell you Ellen stories til the cows come home but I will close now.

Our Ellen was a legend, diplomat, charmer, style, humanitarian, mother, friend.

Karma says that whatever you send out in the Universe, you will receive back. If you send out love, you’ll receive love. She had it in spades. Somewhere I hope that she’s still loving to buy new lipstick, going to the Eileen Fisher outlet, stopping at the wine shop in Montclair and Corrado’s for Wheat Thins, then settling in to make a call to talk about how much she loved Ian.