New York City. 1981.
On a beautiful autumn evening in Central Park, the four of us paused to take photos after a grand dinner at Tavern on the Green.
Don Havens and I lived in the Alden on Central Park West. Shirley had flown in from Los Angeles for a short visit with us and one of our clients, Walter Hess, owner of Rose Hill Flower Company on Third Avenue, invited the three of us for dinner. We all tried to dress like swells, but only Shirley actually nailed it.
She looked extraordinary—glamorous—in her tailored white coat over a black-on-black outfit. It made her luxurious red hair look so radiant that the Tavern on the Green’s captain and waiters took notice. They gave her all kinds of attention. Someone sent her a drink. And over dinner, Walter asked her to accompany him to an opera at the Met. They made their date, and then Shirley asked where some Upper West Side “straight bars” were.
Around midnight, after some final photos, Shirley went out on the town on her own, and Don and I went home, as did Walter.
Around 3 AM our phone rang. I answered.
Shirley, “I didn’t want you to worry. I’m having a great time.”
Me, “Where are you?”
Shirley, “I’m on the top floor of the Gulf+Western building. They own Paramount, you know.”
Me, “What?…What?”
Shirley, “A couple of guys wanted to show me the view from Columbus Circle.”
Me, “The view?”
Shirley, “I’ll see you in the morning. Oh, and they have a limousine. I’ll be back in a few hours. Bye.”
True to her word, she strolled in around 5:30 a.m., just as the sun was peaking over the tops of the buildings across the park on Fifth Avenue. For the next few days, she looked a bit smug. Happy, joyful actually, but smug.
Our best girl—the red-haired gal from Waco, Texas—the gal that we’d always thought of as a bit of an innocent, a bit unworldly—was absolutely and entirely in her element in Manhattan. Don and I never, ever underestimated Shirley R. Ray again.
Postscript.
Shirley Ray called me on June 9, 2019, and she sounded as wonderful, clever, and interesting as ever. I never heard from her again. I called several times over the next few months, but her phone wasn’t answered. I sent a letter to her at her Montecito Drive address in Los Angeles. It wasn’t responded to, nor was it returned. I was concerned but didn’t become truly alarmed—Shirley often traveled for extended periods—until my birthday that November when I didn’t receive a call or a card. Shirley had never missed my birthday in the 40+ years I’d known her.
In December 2020, I dug in my heels and did some deep research. Via a Trellis search, I found that Shirley had been put into a conservatorship through an action brought on by two people I’d never heard of: Stephen Cyr and Lisa Jimenez. I wrote the plaintiff’s attorneys, the judge, and Shirley’s conservator, Ellen S Finkelberg. Ms. Finkelberg wrote back to let me know that Shirley Ray was in a “care home” and had “fallen in love with someone there.” I know nothing more.
If you happen to know Shirley R Ray, please contact me. I just want to send her a card, understand what happened to her, and know that she is safe and well.
Her conservatorship is online via Los Angeles County Court and Trellis.
This is the last message I received from Shirley Ray. Trying to sound upbeat, she broke down and hung up after a few seconds. She’d called me “Stevie B.” from the time we met nearly 50 years ago. (Although, sometimes, when I was walking away from her, she’d call me “Cakes.”)
Thank you for posting. She was my LL before it was taken over. Best one at that.
Thanks for commenting. If you’d mind sharing more of your relationship with Shirley, I’d sure appreciate it. My best to you.
I’ve known Shirley since 1969. I left L.A. for 5 years in 1971 and when I returned we reconnected. After a few years I started doing home remodeling and repairs. Shirley had me do almost all the work she needed on her house and her rentals for the next 40+ years. She was my best friend! I was saddened when she started showing signs that things were changing. The next thing I knew, she was in the hospital after being lost. Shirley told me that Stephen was her Nephew and she didn’t care for him. He had her put in the care facility, denying access by anyone. I managed to get in to see her on her last birthday. She seemed happy, with plenty of things going on there. I miss her very much!
I miss her so very much, Robert. And I remember you—we met a couple of times through Shirley. Whenever anything went wrong with one of her rental units or her residence, she’d say (in that wonderful accent of hers), “Welp … s’time to call
Bob Lillie.” If you’d email me her address at the care facility, I’d be forever in your debt. I’d enjoy sending her cards from time to time and some happy photos that she might remember. I cherish her; she was one of my best friends. Thanks so much for writing. It means the world to me.