The "Queen" is Dead

She was born on the Fourth of July, grew up in Brooklyn, and as a young woman, worked as a model. She would marry three times and give birth to one son. She would become a billionaire and reign over some of New York’s most iconic properties (like the Empire State Building). Demanding. Proud. Volatile. That’s how her friends described her. She died a few days ago, at the age of 87. Her name was Leona Mindy Rosenthal Roberts Panzirer Lubin Helmsley. “The Queen of Mean,” for short.

Leona was already a millionaire when she caught the eye of New York property tycoon Harry Helmsley in the early 1970’s. He divorced his wife of 33 years to marry her—and, together, they amassed an astonishing fortune. Leona Helmsley became a household name in the 1980’s, when she became the poster child for the couple’s signature hotel chain. with her imperial gaze and perfectly coiffed hair staring from the Helmsley Palace Hotel print ads, the copy read, “the only palace in the world where the queen herself stands guard.” Her stare made knees knock.

In time, Leona was charged with tax evasion. Convicted of evading $4 million in taxes, she paid a $7.1 million fine and spent 21 months in jail. Her husband, long in poor health, died in 1997.

During Leona’s celebrated trial, a slate of witnesses testified that she was haughty, cruel, and heartless. Unforgettably, a housekeeper, under oath, said that Mrs. Helmsley once remarked, “Only the little people pay taxes.” One wag contributing to this week’s New York Times blog on her passing, caustically observed, “Maybe she’s now being told that only the little people make it into heaven.” She was not famous for being loved, or for being loving.

In recent years, she did make some substantial gifts to charity: $25 million to a Presbyterian Hospital and $5 million to Hurricane Katrina relief, for example. But her estate is estimated to be between $4-5 billion.

And, in her will, she left $12 million to her dog—well, actually to a trust to take care of her dog. Her dog? Yep—an eight-year-old Maltese named Trouble. Trouble was, apparently, her closest friend and most valued companion.

She left $10 million to her aged brother and $10 million each to two grandsons. She declined to leave anything to her other two grandchildren, simply stating she did not “for reasons known to them.” Leona’s only child (the father of her four grandchildren) died suddenly at age 42 of a heart attack, in 1982. Most of the estate will be transferred to the Helmsley Charitable Trust. No one knows how it will be disbursed. So far, the dog is the big winner.

Following her death, Donald Trump summed up her life this way: “(She) was definitely one of a kind. Harry (her husband) loved being with her and the excitement she brought and that is all that really matters.”

All that really matters? Ouch. But, then, that’s the Donald talking.

Of course, it’s very possible that Mrs. Helmsley has been grossly misunderstood in all of the hullabaloo that surrounded her heyday in the headlines. Nobody is a cardboard cut-out, a one-dimensional villain or hero. We’re all a complex weave. Clearly she was a success in business. There’s no question that she was devoted to her husband Harry. And to Trouble, the dog.

Five billion dollars. Eighty-seven years. Thousands of employees. Four fabulous homes. A private jet. Jewelery to rival the crowned heads of Europe. Four grandchildren—two of whom have been written out of the will and two others that get less than the dog. Sad.

Like all of us, Leona leaves everything behind, as she moves from this world to the next. She had a lot more money to leave behind than the rest of us combined. But, what about the riches that really matter? And, what about the Lord’s review at the Judgment Day (as recorded in Matthew 25), “...when I was hungry you fed me, when I was naked, you clothed me...”? What about treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust can destroy? And, what about “where your treasure is there will your heart be also?”

I can’t speak for Leona. She’ll have to cover those bases for herself. But, I will have to speak for myself. And, I hope, that Genesis-the-Wonder-Dog will not then be front and center in the discussion of my legacy. May it be said at our passing that there is no doubt about our destiny, because we lived and loved in such a way that we were, unmistakably, the Lord’s own. May we seize every day, spend every dollar, and invest in every relationship, for the good. For Heaven’s sake. May we be famed for building God’s kingdom, not our fortunes. May we be deeply loved because we loved deeply. May we be remembered for our kindness and grace. Like Jesus has been.

I love you, Madison Park Church. I am sorry for you, Leona—and for those who held you dear.