The queue began to form in the dark on Monday, hours before anyone could enter the Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem. A 86-year-old church member woke up at 4:30 am to make sure he was one of the first people on the line. She was third.
With the dawn and the cold persisting, the line grew around the block. Some people wore long mahogany hides; others wore sequined scarves and checkered checkered inflated coats. Just the best to see Cicely Tyson, whom they called the true queen of Harlem, one last time.
Mrs. Tyson, who died on January 28 at age 96, was resting in the church sanctuary, surrounded by purple orchids, lilac roses and hydrangeas. Fans from New York and elsewhere, all inspired by her seven-decade acting career, waited for the turn to say her last goodbye to the revered actress.
She was a pioneer actress who won three Emmy Awards, a Tony and an honorary Oscar, but her fame went beyond her awards. She challenged Hollywood on how to cast black actors and became a model for civil rights.
But in East Harlem, where Mrs. Tyson was born and raised by Nevis’ immigrant parents, she was even more than that. She co-founded the Dance Theater of Harlem in 1969, after a tumultuous year in the civil rights movement and after Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was murdered in Memphis, and continued to support the arts, albeit quietly.
She was a member of the Abyssinian Baptist Church for more than three decades, according to Rev. Calvin O. Butts III, senior pastor of the church.
Abyssinian members remember her as a quiet and gracious congregant who bought the third front seat and named it after her mother, but who regularly sat in the back to worship.
“I’m here to continue celebrating the life of a national treasure,” Lisa Hayes, 62, a lawyer in Harlem. “We are here as we would for anyone we love.”
Mrs. Hayes, who wore a red face mask with the Greek letters of the sewn Delta Sigma Theta fraternity, referred to Mrs. Tyson as “soror Tyson” and credited her for making her aware of the Black Beauty with the many covers of Jet Magazine that she graced. She remembers how, as a teenager, she asked her cousin to braid her hair. Her cousin did it in a style similar to Mrs. Tyson’s hair on the cover of an issue of Essence magazine.
“I was just beginning to feel who I am,” said Hayes. “Someone said to me, ‘Oh Lisa, this is so beautiful, you look like Cicely Tyson.’ At 62, I’m still dining on that compliment! “
Evelyn Jemmott-Jackson, a city science teacher and Abyssinian’s assistant, arrived from Brooklyn around 7 am, early enough to see Mrs. Tyson enter the church for the last time. Ms. Jemmott-Jackson said she felt compelled to see Mrs. Tyson because she had adored her.
“We defended our queen simply because she held us very high,” said Jemmott-Jackson as he showed someone a video of Tyson’s coffin arriving in a black Cadillac hearse. “It is incredible that her family has allowed us to pay our final respects.”
Bishop Donal Yarbrough, the 86-year-old member of the Abyssinian who was third in line, said he intended to sing a song for Tyson called “Coming Home”, and then suddenly offered a preview.
“She is going home,” sang Bishop Yarbrough with emotion. “I can see God and his angels spreading their wings and everything will open up because she is one of her angels”, she sang with a liveliness that made everyone behind her leave her places and search for the voice in motion.
Shaquille Carbon, 27, looked at Bishop Yarbrough as she sang, almost in awe. He arrived in Harlem at 7 am in Maryland because he grew up watching Tyson’s movies. He used to dream of becoming an actor and watched movies with his mother, who often played “Sounder” or “The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman” on his VCR.
“All my life, she was someone I loved,” said Carbon, with a black, shaky face mask. “We had all her films and watched ad nauseam at my home.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”