I am so sadden by this news. I started reading her works about a year ago. She is one author I would recommend to everybody.
Sad news. I was a big fan of her Prank Show.
She might well be The Last Poet – that is, the last whose name is known to the general public as a poet. Nowadays, the only poets we seem to hear about are the ones writing song lyrics.
I’m sorry to hear of her death, but I always thought she was terribly overrated.
That’s what I’ll always remember her by. I’ve always admired the fact that she went through some pretty terrible stuff, yet still managed to look on life with hope. RIP.
I posted this story on my Facebook page today, but it’s non-personal enough I think I can share it here. It’s a true story except for the obvious hyperbole parts.
My own personal Maya Angelou story, or, why Dr. Angelou was a Right Broad in my estimation:
About twenty years ago, or not quite, I was working at a hotel in downtown Montgomery, Alabama where Dr. Angelou stayed when she was brought into town for some kind of high-profile speaking engagement and fundraiser. This was probably at the height of her fame, soon after Oprah had converted her from a well-known bestselling author to a superstar, and so I’m guessing she was paid quite a bit (no judgment there at all).
The escort who was sent to pick her up at the hotel was a “jeweled and evening wear in the morning” Alabama strain of Hyacinth Bucket ambassador from the organization that was hosting the event- Pompous and Elegant Association of Fine Older White Ladies (PEAFOWL) or whatever, a modern day toned down ladies variant of the White Citizens Council (“Now proudly allowing wealthy and famous Negroes in our photo ops!”).
I seriously doubt this extra from the country club scenes of THE HELP had ever actually read anything that Maya Angelou or any other author whose books weren’t sold in drugstores had written, but she absolutely knew that she had a major celebrity arm’s length away from her and she took her “get her to the speech on time” obligations seriously.
Well, the Hyachinth Bucket type (or, I suppose, think a far more pretentious Blanche Devereaux if you’re not familiar with KEEPING UP APPEARANCES) literally waited in the lobby for a few moments and declined “Can I help you, ma’am?” assistance offers, UNTIL there were more people around, enough to be impressed when she came to the desk and told me, in a soft voice loud enough to be heard all over the lobby, “Yessss, I’m here to pick up Dr. Maya Angelou. I know her suite number, but could you please call Dr. Angelou and tell her that I am here?”
I gave a 1990s equivalent of “It is done, Khaleesi” and called the suite and somebody (not Maya Angelou) answered and I told them and they were like “Uh… okay”.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Bucket-Devereaux returned to the lobby, without Dr. Angelou, and looking like she wanted to rassle.
“Where’s your manager?”
“May I tell them what this is regarding?”
“NO YOU MAY NOT (Serf)! I’ll TELL HIM MYSELF!”
“Pardon me, I’ll go get them.”
“THANK YOU!”
The manager on duty was an obnoxious 50 year old male ex-military type, but by this time I already hated the hotel and that manager, and Sheba was closer anyway.
Sheba was actually a reservations manager- she was in her 30s and lovely- looked a lot like Claire Huxtable, but with a personality infusion of Julia Sugarbaker. It occurred to me that she might be the better manager for Mrs. Devereaux-Bucket to talk to, at least for my benefit.
“I’m Sheba Rutherford [not her name], how can I help you?”
“YOU’RE THE MANAGER?”
“Something like. How may I help you, ma’am?”
“Well, perhaps you know that DOCTOR Maya Angelou is staying in your hotel?”
“Yes ma’am, I’m well aware.”
“She is world famous.”
“Yes ma’am. She is a personal favorite.”
“Well, I just came from your ‘personal favorite’s’ suite. Do you know what I saw all over the hallway up there?”
“No, what was that?”
“ROOM SERVICE DISHES! Outside two rooms up there!”
“Well, ma’am, it’s that time of morning. And many people place their trays outside when they’re through…”
“I’m well aware of what time it is and how room service works! But at quality hotels people come and TAKE the trays! Now, would you please call room service and ask them to take the trays away so that a world famous author does not have left over eggs and ketchup and hashbrowns as her impression of OUR CITY!” (Wouldn’t want an African American icon to have any kind of negative connotations for the city of Rosa Parks and George Wallace and Jefferson Davis, after all.)
“I’ll go tell them now personally.”
“THANK YOU!”
And Sheba walked off. Into the offices. At the opposite side of the hotel from where the restaurant or room service was located.
So Mrs. Devereaux-Bucket is waiting at the front desk, with a freshly returned from some place that isn’t room service Sheba, when Dr. Maya Angelou and her traveling companions come down. There’s a minor commotion by a couple of people who recognize her, nothing major but enough for Mrs. D-B to strike a “would you PLEASE leave my dear friend and international celebrity Doctor Maya Angelou as seen on Oprah alone!” look of exasperation. And she asks Maya Angelou the one question most people would ask her if they got to meet her in person:
“Dr. Angelou… had they removed the room service dishes from the hallway?”
Maya Angelou: “What?”
D-B: Those room services dishes, please tell me they had removed them.
MA: Um, the ones in the hallway?
D-B: {eye roll to heaven} I am so sorry that this was how Montgomery was represented to you. I tried to have it taken care of. You can rest assured the hotel will be hearing about this.
MA: Don’t worry about it. Really.
D-B: Well, I’m going to go and get the car and I’ll pick you up out front.
MA: Very well.
Exit Mrs. Devereaux-Bucket.
Maya Angelou and her companions crack up laughing the second their escort and driver drags her plumage outside, and Sheba joins them. And I do, even though I’m a bit nervous since I’m male and white and stuff.
Sheba: It is such an honor to meet you. I really am sorry about any problems with your stay.
Maya Angelou: Oh… I saw a man beheaded in Egypt. I danced naked for money in a strip club. I think it gave me the strength I need to endure seeing breakfast dishes, but if not… I suppose I’ll get through it somehow!
And she laughed and we laughed and Mrs. D-B drove up and they departed.
And that’s why Maya Angelou will always be a right broad by me, and also how the ocelot got his lymph glands.
And I’m guessing that somewhere on Facebook today an elderly Mrs. Devereaux-Bucket is shedding tears over the time that Maya Angelou called her “my white sister”.
What a wonderful story. Thank you, once again, Sampiro.
And thanks to Maya Angelou - a wonderful voice.
Thank you for the story. Maya would be a right broad. I saw her lecture in Toronto in 2003 and I was in awe.