Cissy Houston - Remembering Whitney

Remembering Whitney

My Story of Love, Loss, and the Night the Music Stopped

CISSY HOUSTON

with Lisa Dickey

with a foreword by Dionne Warwick

This book is dedicated to my immediate family, particularly my sons and my grandchildren, and to all the world of wonderful fans who loved my daughter. Hopefully you may get to know Whitney through the love Ive shown in these pages.

Ill lend you for a little time a child of mine, He said.

For you to love while she lives and mourn for when shes dead....

adapted from Ill Lend You a Child by Edgar Guest

Contents

by Dionne Warwick

I ve known Cissy Houston my whole life. Shes my aunther sister Lee is my motherbut because were only seven years apart, she felt more like an older sister to me.

When I was growing up, Cissy even lived with us for a while in East Orange, so I got to know her pretty well. I can still hear her voice, telling my sister Dee Dee and me, I am older, and you are going to do as I say. She might have felt like an older sister to us, but she never let us forget she was our aunt . She was a strong young woman then, and she is a strong, loving woman now.

From the time we were children, we all sang together at St. Lukes A.M.E. Church in Newark, where my grandfather was the minister. Later, when he moved away, we all joined New Hope Baptist Church. My sister Dee Dee and I sang in the junior choir there, and Cissy rehearsed us and arranged songs for us. Music was always in our familys blood. But there were two things even more important to us than music: family and faith.

When she started having children, Cissy became very mother-oriented. Her kids were primary in her lifeshe had to be with her babies. There was a great deal of love in their house. And we all loved her children, Gary, Michael, and Nippy.

When Cissys kids were small, I used to like to bring them out on the road with me. By that time, I had a solo career and was touring all over the world, so during the summers, when they werent in school, Id bring them out to join me. They were just regular little kids on summer vacation, but they did learn how to use room service very, very quickly. It was all I could do to keep those children from ordering everything in the world up to the room.

Nippy used to talk with me about her mother, just the usual kids stuff of Why wont she let me do this? and How come the other kids get to do that? But later on, she came to realize why her mother did the things she did. We all were brought up in the same wayit was instilled in us to respect our elders, to love God, and to walk the straight and narrow. And thats what Cissy tried to teach her own children, too.

Cissy has always wanted the best for everyone in her family. Shes always giving encouragement and support, and shes tried on many occasions to give advice. Whenever she saw something that wasnt sitting too well with her, shed speak up. As I did. In our family, the apple doesnt fall far from the tree.

But while Cissy was strong and loving, Nippy was always a little girl, even during her womanhood. Yes, she was ambitious, and she had a silent strength. But Im not sure it was ever really tapped into. We all know of Nippys beauty and her amazing vocal skills. But in Cissys book, you will learn about the little girl behind all that.

Its a privilege to have a peek inside someones life, and thats what Cissy is offering in this book. The truth has always been paramount for Cissy, and I believe she has given the truth within these pages. The fact that she found the strength to write it now, given the grief she has suffered, is a testament to her faith: she is being led to share her true feelings about herself and her beloved daughter.

I hope all of us can take a lesson or two from it, and that with this book, everyone can read about and understand who Whitney Houston truly was.

Dionne Warwick

November 2012

The Night the Music Stopped

I t was the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday when I heard my doorbell ring.

I wasnt expecting anyone, and walking to the door I felt a little irritated about a surprise visit. But when I opened it, no one was there, so I just shut the door and went back to whatever I was doing. Who would be ringing my bell and disappearing in the middle of the day? My apartment building had a doorman, and it wasnt like people were just dropping by all the time.

Not long after, I heard that bell ring again. I got up and went to answer it, really irritated now. But again, no one was there. Now, this just didnt make sense. Why would someone be messing with me like this? I called down to the front desk.

Has anyone come up to see me? I asked the concierge.

No, Mrs. Houston, he said. I havent seen anyone on the cameras, either. Well then, who was ringing my bell?

Not long after that, around six or six-thirty in the evening, my phone rang. When I picked it up, all I could hear was screaming.

Oh, Mommy! Its Nippy! Its Nippy! It was my son Gary on the line, and he was hysterical.

Gary, whats wrong?

Its Nippy, he said again. They found her!

Found her where?

They found her upstairs, he cried. They found her upstairs and Im not going back up there!

Gary, what happened? I snapped, frightened now. Youve got to tell me whats wrong!

He never did say what had happened, maybe because he didnt know exactly, or maybe because he was in shock. He just kept mumbling, Oh, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, until I finally said, Gary, is she dead?

And he said, Yes, Mommy. Shes dead.

And that was the moment my whole world shattered.

I dont know what I did or said after that. I was told later that I screamed so loudly that the whole building must have heard me, but my mind was absolutely blank, except for one thought: My baby was gone.

Somehow, people started showing up at my apartment. My niece Diane came, and other friends and family. The phone rang, the doorbell chimed, people brought food, people tried to hug me. But I just sat in my chair, crying. I was in shock, and even now, I really dont know how I survived that eveningor the days that followed.

As soon as the news got out, all sorts of people surrounded my apartment building. Reporters lined the lobby trying to get in to ask questions, and strangers snuck up to my floor wanting to pay their condolences. The crowds got so thick outside the building that the police had to be called to keep people away. But I didnt know any of that at the time, because all I could do was weep and moan and wail. All I wanted was to be left alone to grieve for my daughter.

The last time Id seen Nippy, I had been a little upset with her. It was around the Christmas holidays, just six weeks or so earlier, and shed suddenly showed up in New York with my granddaughter, Krissi. Nippy wanted me to come into the city and join them, and my sons Gary and Michael, but she hadnt told me they were coming, so Id made other plans. I was going up to Sparta, New Jersey, to have Christmas dinner with my friend Nell, and I didnt feel right breaking it off, since wed been planning it for a long time. I wanted to see Nippy, of course, but I just wished she would give me a little more notice when she was coming through.

So I went up to Sparta and spent the night there, and then the next day Nippy called me again, asking me to please come into New York and see them. She was staying at the New York Palace hotel, and Gary and Michael and their wives and children were all there, so it looked to be a nice family reunion. I went into Manhattan, excited to see the whole family together, which was a real rarity these days.