![]() ![]() She could not know as she listened to the eulogies that after spending 18 years with Alex Haley, and-as she describes it-collaborating on many of his literary projects, that she would be portrayed in a complicated probate case as a gold digger who had once "hijacked" her husband's unfinished books. Her body was tiny and lean, a testament to an ascetic daily routine of exercise, meditation and a diet consisting largely of baked potatoes and steamed root vegetables. She wore a tailored suit, sensible pumps and pearl stud earrings. She dressed as she usually dressed, in a style that was neither fashionable nor unfashionable. In contrast to the elegant women who'd come to pay their last respects, My Haley, the 44-year-old widow of Alex Haley, wore only a trace of makeup. On that winter day, few people noticed the little woman sitting in the front row near the African mahogany casket. It was a grand memorial service for the writer whose two books served as beacons of hope, pride and understanding to millions of Americans in the late 20th century. They had come to mourn Alex Haley, the 70-year-old author of The Autobiography of Malcolm X and Roots, who had died of a heart attack on February 10, 1992. Dignitaries from Senegal and the Gambia were there. Attallah Shabazz, the daughter of Malcolm X, was there. ![]() Celebrities, ambassadors and politicians crowded into the Greenwood Christian Methodist Episcopal Church in Memphis, Tennessee. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |