Once upon a time in a crowded little island called New York, there was a woman so magical it seemed at times that she was too glorious to really be human; too marvelous to be real; too kind and too generous to survive the merciless environment in which she lived. And yet, she was; and she did.

Her name was René Ceballos. The most talented, charitable, spirited and compassionate person I have ever met. She was a successful Broadway dancer, an accomplished musician, and a selfless humanitarian whose love for life and all living creatures was so bounteous it seemed to pour out of her and unto whatever lucky soul was near her. 

I am more grateful than words can say for having the privilege to have had such a wondrous creature in my life for more than 40 years. René was my dearest friend until her death earlier this year. There is no filling the hole she has left in my life and in my heart, nor will there ever be. But while I continue to live, I find comfort and a bittersweet happiness in sharing tales of this remarkably gifted woman’s life. 

Walking near her apartment in the West Village one rainy night just around the time that René was opening the Broadway musical "Cats" – the first one mind you, the one that received worldwide acclaim for its excellence – in which she would star as the Siamese cat, Cassandra. When all of a sudden, almost as if she could feel the little creature’s presence, René spotted a pregnant cat curled up in the shadows, cold and wet, and just pitiful looking. 

When I talk about the strange “magic” that seemed to hover about René like an invisible aura, this encounter was one of many instances that were not just odd, or coincidental, they were utterly uncanny. The sad little homeless mother-to-be cat she found that night in the rain – just before her debut as the Siamese Casandra – was, of all things, a Siamese cat. 

Never had I seen a feral cat be approached by a person and not take off like a shot. But when René stepped towards her and knelt down in front of her, the poor, soaked, frightened creature let her put her jacket around her and scoop her up into her arms. She did not squirm or try to get away as René cradled her in her arms all the way back to her apartment. There she would stay in love and comfort for the rest of her life. René named her  “Mama” and nursed her through the final weeks of her pregnancy and all through her labor. Mama even got to keep nearly all of her kittens too. 

In my mind that the cat was truly René’s spirit animal. I watched over the years as young and old felines flocked to her; not just in spirit, but in her personal life and in her career. There always seemed to me to be a special inseparable bond between them.

Now, I always thought it comical that equal to her affection for cats was René’s love for birds. Natural enemies you might think – one being the hunter and the other the prey – that was never the case in her presence. It was as though by some strange magic this natural animosity between the two species had ceased to exist in her home…"René Magic”. 

One summer afternoon,  Renée walked into the pet store on Bleecker Street. As her sister Michelle and I walked around the store we heard René scolding the employee who was poking a stick at a bird who left his perch and was climbing up a rope. The employee kept saying "Get down" upon which René said "That's right bird you get down and sit on your perch for 24 hours and don’t move." "Lady you should not be working here… ". At this point Michel said to me "Nicki let's get her out of here.  We then walked over and took René by her arm and rushed her out of the store with her arms waving and her mouth still going. She was always an advocate for those in need.

Remembering a particular time that was such a quintessential René moment that it makes me laugh out loud just thinking about it. I was walking through the West Village with my friend David Walker, a minimalist composer,  when all of a sudden we see René careening down Christopher Street lugging the most enormous dog crate, racing towards us like a blaze dressed in nothing but black tights and a comically oversized t-shirt that had this wild, colorful, abstract Picasso head painting covering the front. She looked utterly ridiculous. She looked dazzling. She could easily pull off both at the same time – that was part of her charm. But the best part of the story is that when she finally reached us, and we looked inside the crate to see her cargo, all that was inside was a tiny baby sparrow with an injured wing she had found somewhere along the way and was carting home with great effort and ingenuity. She really was marvelous.

I have beautiful memories of countless late nights sitting in René’s garden apartment with my soul mate, John Tobin, at my side. René at the piano, cats all around, listening to her sing songs she had written for

one animal rights play. Drinking beer, watching in silent wonder as her hands moved gracefully over the keys while a tiny little sparrow sat calmly perched on one of her hands as she played. “Tweeties” she called them. She had eyes like a cat that would always spot little birds. Though, her eyes only seemed to hone in on those injured or in need of care. She would see them, scoop them up, and find some ingenious (and at times hilarious) way of transporting them home where she would nurse them back to health and release them once they were well.

Her kindness did not only extend to animals. Indeed, René had enough magic in her to go around, and she did, bestowing her generosity and good nature to many homeless people around the city. There she would be, this beautiful lady, handing out trays of food that she had purchased for hungry men and women living on the harsh city streets of New York. 

The care and concern that was woven into her every day life was never more evident than in her relationship with a homeless artist by the name of Robert Flinn. A well recognized fixture of the West Village who had come to be homeless after a drug overdose had left him disabled and disheveled and living on the streets.  René would always remind Robert whenever she saw him that he could always ring her bell if he needed a shower. Think about that for a moment. Then think about the kind of world we would be living in if all people lived their lives with the heart and soul and kindness with which René lived hers.

Another West Village artist and street performer, Artie Busk, best remembered as "Joan Crawford with Christina doll”on Halloween night. Arthur would say "René would make an incredible Peter Pan on Broadway or maybe a Joan of Arc" he would also say to me “Whatever Renée tells you to do, do it!"

"René Magic" finding Bob Fosse, molding her in his many shows. Working with Robbie Marshall a dancers dream come true. I met Chita Rivera backstage one night, she pointed to René and said to me "She's the real deal."

"René Magic" her professional success eclipsed by finding the love of her life Jorge Alfano in the orchestra pit of the show Tango Apassionado,(which I believe is on tape at the Lincoln Center Library.)

Rene's real magic was living life each day,with her love, laughter and generosity. Surrounded by cats all her life, Rene truly was "The Eye of the Cat”.

Pippin Home is the happy host to the second art show for Nicholas Spadafora and other local NYC artists. Beginning on Friday, June 17 at 8:00pm, the vintage and antiques home good store will be showcasing many recent works from the artists, including new pastels, watercolors and mixed media drawings and paintings from Nick Spadafora and Jack Tobin.

The show will be on display at Pippin Home from June 17 through June 23. Many of the showcased works will be available for purchase, so if you're looking for an excellent source of affordable art for your home or office, be sure to stop in and take in these incredible original works.

Reception 

Friday, June 17 

8:00-10:00pm

This event is open to the public.

Pippin Home

112 1/2 West 17th Street

New York, NY 10011

212.206.0008