By Jan Herman
Went to the memorial service for Rosemary Breslin this afternoon. She was a terrific gal. Used to work with her at the Daily News. She died the other day at age 47 of a mysterious blood disease so rare that it still has no name. She called it “the headache that wouldn’t go away.” Something like that. And she wrote a lovely memoir, Not Exactly What I Had in Mind. Here’s her NYT obit.
The service was at St. Francis of Assisi, just south of Manhattan’s Herald Square. Church interior not what I expected. Not gloomy or dim or depressing at all. Bright in fact. Painted in shades of cream and ivory and light tan. Lighted chandeliers. Very attractive. The Franciscans must have a great interior decorator.
In tile of the arch above the alter: “QUEEN OF THE ORDER OF FRIARS MINOR PRAY FOR US.” Had no idea what the “friars minor” refers to. (But now I do. I looked it up.)
Dunno how many people were there. At a minimum 800, maybe 1000. Le tout New York, or at least the cream of the Irish. Every pew was filled. They had to bring out extra chairs and that was still not enough to accomodate the crowd. I walked in, by coincidence, with Pete Hamill and his attractive, hip-looking Japanese wife, the journalist Fukio Aoki. (I think she’s his wife.)
A pianist was playing Broadway show tunes and standards on a Steinway grand before the service began. Tunes such as “Some Day Over the Rainbow” and “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” and “Someone to Watch Over Me,” and plenty more, many from the Gershwin songbook. Sounded like a great big cocktail party disguised in church decorum. Rosie, who designed the service, had a romantic streak — and a great sense of humor.
I sat next to New York City Police Commissioner Raymond Kelly. I’d left my seat before the service got started. The guy next to me said he’d save it for me, as I had saved his when he got up. Anyway, when I returned to my seat, there was Ray, clearly a friend of the guy who was saving my seat. Ray squeezed over to let me sit back down. It was obvious he’d been delegated to do the saving. Less roomy than before, but more interesting.
A white-robed Franciscan priest read a passage from the Prophet Isaiah, also from Psalm 23. Rosie’s four brothers and a sister spoke. Then there was a trumpet solo of another show tune. Her nurse spoke and said Rosie had had 15 years of blood transfusions from strangers, making the point that Rosie had a big BIG b-i-g B-I-G-G-E-R family, so to speak, than her immediate one, which is v. big.
Rosie’s husband Tony Dunne and Tony’s aunt Joan Didion Dunne spoke. Couldn’t hear much of what Joan said. But Tony delivered the afternoon’s best punchline. He recalled the advice he got from Rosie’s father, Jimmy Breslin, on coping with Rosie’s death: “SUFFER!!” Tony also recalled Rosie’s advice. She told him, “I gave you 15 years of my life. Don’t screw it up.”
Then the trumpet player played “Amazing Grace” with piano accompaniment and led the family up the center aisle and out the door, followed by the crowd. There were people in tears. But this was not a funeral service in mourning. Rosemary Breslin wouldn’t have allowed that.
