Always a Lady

in memoriam: Jilline Ringle

by David Anthony Fox

I never met Jilline Ringle, but I feel as though I knew her well. That's why when I first heard about her death — from cancer, at the obscenely young age of 40 — I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. I heard the news from a friend in Penn's Theater Arts Program, and we spent 15 tearful, uncomprehending minutes on the phone. Like me, my friend had never met Jilline but also took this very deeply.

It's the power of a great performer to seem more alive on stage than others seem in person, but there was more to Jilline than that. Those who knew her can speak about the facts of her short, brave life (and there's a lovely obituary on the Playbill Web site:

www.playbill.com/news/article/91476.html). I can tell you what effect she had on me.

From the moment I saw her in October 2000, I was smitten with the "Six-Foot Amazon from Hell Whom All Men Desire." (Those were Jilline's words, but I'll confirm she was both Amazonian and desirable.) Of Mondo Mangia, her beloved solo show of singing, reminiscing and Italian cooking, I wrote, "Ringle is one tasty dish: The music and music-making are yummy, there's charm galore, and her pasta is done to al dente perfection. Brava diva!"

Jilline was an actress and singer extraordinaire — lusty, funny and gloriously, corporeally there! The power of that presence makes it even harder to believe she's gone. How can it be, when only a few months ago she gave perhaps her greatest performance, in 1812 Productions' Always A Lady. In a challenging solo by the greatest monologuist of all, Ruth Draper, she was (to quote myself) "breathtaking, offering the ultimate tribute to Draper — she doesn't imitate the (inimitable) original, but finds her way to something every bit as good."

I hope that Jilline's work gave her a small fraction of the pleasure she gave me and thousands of others.

I'm about to leave for two weeks of theatergoing in London. I wish I could trade it all in for one more chance to see Jilline.