Born in St. Louis and raised in small-town Arkansas, Maya Angelou went to her grave as a beloved daughter of Harlem.
As a young woman, Angelou sang on the Apollo Theater stage to wild applause. She later landed a W. 120th St. apartment, where the chartreuse curtains hid a parade of her well-known friends: Oprah Winfrey, Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, Nick Ashford and Valerie Simpson.
“She would have wonderful parties and get-togethers at that house,” said fellow poet Quincy Troupe, 74, a friend and neighbor for 40 years. “She was a great lady. I’m going to miss her.”
A few blocks away on 125th St., the marquee at the Apollo passed on the sad news for all to see.
“In memory of Maya Angelou,” it read. “A phenomenal icon, 1928-2014.”
Neighbor Tsion Syoum, 14, was supposed to interview Angelou for an upcoming school project. Sadly, time ran out.
“It was really surprising, really sad,” the teen said of Angelou’s passing. “It was just so fast.”
The two did speak two years ago when Tsion left a letter — and one of her poems — for the literary giant-next-door. Angelou invited her for a sitdown on the living room floor.
“I was so blessed,” said Tsion. “She told me about what she wrote, the process. I asked her what her influences were, and what she loved about poetry.”
Angelou autographed a book for the aspiring writer before sending the thrilled girl home.
Even in death, a piece of Angelou lives on uptown. Her voluminous archive — 343 boxes of personal correspondence, papers and documents — remains housed in the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture.
“This is a woman who left a legacy,” said Harlem neighbor Tressi Colon, who walked with her husband, Dwight, and their two college-age kids to leave a bouquet of yellow flowers outside Angelou’s home.
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