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A Remembrance of Cecilia Fakoury
(Written by grandson Aaron Bracy)
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Cecilia Fakoury was a musician. Appropriately, she played the bass because it was big, just like her personality.
Granny Ceil was so full of life. Her wardrobe was bright, her jewelry showy and her fashion sense keen and hip.
Bland? “Not me, baby,” she might say.
It’s so hard to believe that this woman, so vibrant, so full of life, so young, even at 93 years old, is gone. And it’s harder to fathom that less than 24 hours after our last visit on Tuesday night, Granny Ceil took her last breath on Wednesday morning.
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Cecilia Zirl was born in New York in 1924, the daughter of European immigrants Lillian Scharf and Morris Zirl. She was the oldest of two and was predeceased by her sister Elaine.
It was while attending Walton High School in the Bronx that Granny Ceil first got the music bug. The bass wasn’t her first choice but because she was tall enough to handle such a large instrument – and, probably more accurately, because no one else wanted to play it – she began taking lessons.
Granny Ceil got good enough to earn a New York City scholarship, earning the right to take lessons from Frederick Zimmerman of the New York Philharmonic. Zimmerman’s tutelage led Granny Ceil to a spot on the All-City band and more well-known instruction from the likes of conductor Otto Klemperer.
While perhaps not yet displaying on the strings her ahead-of-the-curve hipness that always was a trademark of her life, Granny Ceil was technically sound while playing traditional classical music.
That changed soon after high school when she was recruited by Estelle Slavin to play bass in an all-women jazz band called “Stelle and the Brunettes.” Granny Ceil and the quintet toured smoky jazz clubs throughout the East Coast with much success. They played night after night and at the end of a week’s gig would gather in the hotel room and Granny, the treasurer, would equally dole out their earnings.
Granny Ceil’s name might be well known today had not marriages and impending children among two members forced the band to dissolve.
At 23, Granny Ceil had some money but was out of work. Before figuring out what was next, Granny wanted to take a vacation and had her heart set on Chateau Frontenac in Quebec. But her mom advised her instead to travel to Los Angeles, where Lillian’s sister, Mollie, lived.
And, so, in March 1948 she did, taking a train across the country to the west coast for the first time.
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She had barely set foot off the El Capitan than Jean Bartfield, Mollie’s daughter and Granny Ceil’s cousin four years older, was dragging her to a party.
It was there that she met Richard Fakoury. Four years older, Richard didn’t strike Granny Ceil as particularly handsome, probably not anywhere close to the men for whom she played in the uptown jazz clubs.
But it was his politeness which first struck her. After a party trick caused water from a faulty glass to trickle down her chin and brought embarrassment, it was Richard who comforted her.
“I hate people who play tricks like that,” Richard said. “It isn’t fair.”
Granny brushed off the trick but was moved by the man’s kindness. But she left the party not thinking too much about Richard until he reached out to her a few weeks later.
They happened to work near each other in Los Angeles and started meeting daily for lunch. Richard would take the Angel’s Flight down to a cafeteria near Granny’s job.
“We talked more than we ate,” she said. “We never stopped talking.”
The casual encounters turned more serious and Richard asked Granny on their first real date, a jaunt to Hollywood Park Race Course. Granny wasn’t much of a gambler then or ever, but the track was lively and fun – much like the jazz clubs she so loved.
A novice, she eyed the racing form and immediately picked out her horse: Flying Rhythm.
What better pick for a musician, she thought.
She gave Richard $2 to bet the horse and then watched Flying Rhythm cross the line first.
“I was so excited,” she said.
Until…
“I hate to tell you Ceil,” Richard said, “but I didn’t bet your money on him. His background was so bad.”
Were you upset, I wondered.
“I didn’t berate him,” Granny Ceil said, “because it’s silly to berate.”
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Granny Ceil didn’t berate Richard; she married him.
Five months after arriving in the Golden State, Granny Ceil and Richard married on Aug. 15, 1948. They remained married for 54 years until Richard died in 2002.
“I really liked him because he was just a nice person,” Granny Ceil said.
In between, they had my mom, Susan, and my aunt, Barbara.
I am the oldest of five grandchildren and Granny Ceil is survived by nine great grandchildren.
Anyone who’s anyone knew about Granny Ceil’s grandchildren. She loved her grandchildren.
“BABBA 5” her vanity plate read.
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Our last visit on Tuesday was different than any before. In all of my 41 years, I never can remember seeing Granny looking anything less than her best. Her hair always looked nice, makeup applied. She was pretty and healthy.
This time, though, she looked disheveled. She spoke between heavy sighs. For the first time I could remember, she seemed a bit confused.
She always took pride in telling me, “I have my cookies, baby.”
And now…
We talked about the past. I told her how much I loved visiting her and Richard, my “Pop,” in Virginia. I spent many happy days there. They had a big townhouse in Fairfax, Virginia where they lived for many years after relocating from Willingboro. (Pop was an accountant and worked as an auditor for the government.)
I told her again how much I loved coming down, how it would be unheard of today for a parent to ship three boys on a bus or a train by themselves as my mom did. Of course, we knew Granny Ceil and Pop would be there waiting.
I told her how I still remember throwing a tennis ball at the front wall of her house, imagining I was Mike Schmidt and dreaming of the big leagues.
We talked about sports on this last visit, me telling her about the Eagles going to the Super Bowl. Granny Ceil knew sports well, especially football. Pop was a huge Giants fan and I reminded Granny that Jeff Hostetler won the Super Bowl as a backup quarterback for the Giants and maybe Nick Foles could do the same for the Eagles.
I could tell that some of what I was saying wasn’t processing and that made me sad.
She stopped me several times during our conversation, repeating the same thing over and over: “Richard is downstairs waiting for me,” she said.
I didn’t know how to respond but didn’t tell her he wasn’t.
I moved her comfortably to her chair and prepared to leave.
“Remember to tell Richard to come up here,” she said. “He’s waiting downstairs for me.”
I gave Granny Ceil a hug and a kiss and told her I would stop by tomorrow, which I had planned to do.
On Wednesday morning, a terrible feeling came over me around 9:30. I felt like I was short of air and out of breath. It subsided a few minutes later.
It was during that time that Granny Ceil, sadly, was taking her last breath.
She was right all along. Richard was downstairs waiting for her.
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(Postscript Note: When she couldn’t play the bass anymore, Granny Ceil donated her beloved instrument to high school student Adam Blackstone. The Willingboro, NJ native used the bass to help launch a successful music career. Now the Musical Director & CEO of BASSic Black Entertainment, Blackstone Tweeted his condolences, saying Granny Ceil’s bass still is one of his favorite instruments. “As God blesses me on this journey thru (sic) music, I will be sure to continue to make her proud as I play it,” he wrote.)