Obituary: Kiki Randolph passes on

Dr. Ritchie of Kingston somehow cured the bad leg when she was 15, whereupon Miss Randolph triumphantly finished school at Washington Irving High in Manhattan and went on to study acting at The American Academy of Dramatic Arts on full scholarship. Returning to Woodstock for summers, she appeared in numerous performances at The Maverick Theater and in Byrdcliffe’s “Viletta Players.” Clemmie had a victory garden and gave gallons of blood for the war effort, and with the allied victory Bob Chanler’s old place on 212 became known for parties that continued for days on end, with Clemmie cooking breakfast and groggy revelers appearing from couches and outbuildings.

Kiki in an Artists Federation show at the Woodstock Playhouse.

Her wild child of a daughter married Paul Godwin, producing the prodigal beauty, Pookie, when Kiki was 22 in 1949. Sixteen years later she bore her son Michael with second husband Frank Minervini in 1965. In between the SS Seahorse closed and Kiki’s crowd moved to drinking at Deanie’s — taking bartender John Brown along. John Pike immortalized the migration in a painting which hung over both incarnations of Deanie’s ‘til the day it closed: Brown as the toothy, goatee’d satyr, and Kiki as the dewy eyed, scarcely-dressed nymph.

By the late fifties Kiki had teamed up with Marian Umhey to buy the Woodstock Townsman, the only woman-owned, woman-run newspaper in the state. They soon won The Kingston Newspaper Guild Award for “courageous spirit and hard-hitting coverage of the news.” The two women, all agreed, were like Day and Night, but according to Kiki they never argued once in 26 years. Randolph penned the column: “Between Me and The Lamp-post” and like her mother (who drove from Manhattan to vote every election in Woodstock, “so as to not let the other five democrats down”) Kiki provided the Democratic point of view to an all-Republican county. Introduced to Lyndon Johnson by local congressman Joe Resnick,  she explained her paper supplied “the broad perspective.” Johnson — we can be sure — looked her up and down and laughed, appreciatively.

Another photograph from the 50s features Nelson Rockefeller with a wolfish grin hovering over Kiki, but Rocky didn’t have a chance — he was Republican.

She also served on the board and as repeated-president of The Woodstock Artists Foundation. To be truthful, the Woodstock Artists Association also provided money for artists in need at this time, but they didn’t have as much fun doing it. Whereas Kiki’s Foundation (aided by Fritzi Streibel and others) amassed most of their budget mounting original productions at the Woodstock Playhouse. Ticket sales, illegally sold beer, and a chorus line featuring scantily clad wives and girlfriends were the secrets of their success. $500 went to a starving artist or two who, thus aided, made it through another Woodstock winter. It was a little like the top hat Bob Chanler would leave on the kitchen table during parties filled with five dollar bills. Any artists in need were welcome to help themselves.

Gladys Plate filled out that Woodstock Artist Foundation chorus line on more than one occasion. Today she recalls that Woodstock women were always an out-spoken  and powerful bunch. And that Kiki led the charge. “Of course, we had a fist fight one night at a party. Whose party? You think I remember? Over a man? Hell no, we fought over  politics and that’s all I’ll say on the subject. Except that I always admired Kiki — especially after trading punches.” And when she wasn’t making news in Woodstock Kiki reported it over Harry Thayer’s WGHQ radio for twelve consecutive years.

Clemmie Randolph lasted exactly to 80 in 1970 whereupon Kiki — swearing they’d meet again — laid her mother to rest in the Artist’s Cemetery. Then after a “career” of over 40 years Kiki dried out with the help of “Bill W and Dr. Bob.” She soon became an angel of mercy for sobriety’s cause, too, known for reaching out especially to “the hopeless cases.” Kiki worked the hot-line at Family, “talking down” the desperate there, as well. She became a health-aide and, after taking the hospice course, helped numerous elderly prepare for the end of life with the same celebrative joy she showed at its beginnings. Her civic contributions — almost too numerous to list — included her working the town’s original phoneboth-like “information center;” creation of and service on the chamber of commerce; and a big push on the charity drive which established the Youth Center. Kiki introduced the first sidewalk art exhibitions in Woodstock and was a devout board member of the Christmas Eve Committee. Additionally, for over 50 years she “FREE-quently shouted down the imbeciles” at town board meetings, and eventually made a couple of bids for town office, she later considered “ill-considered.”

Over the years many journalists have had a hey-day interviewing Kiki Randolph, who never failed to nail her share of razzler-dazzlers. In the nineties, the cultural Czar of this paper made “the only censorial deletion of dialogue” in his career editing just such an interview. Let’s face it: Kiki Randolph was just too hot to handle, the truth of which the accompanying photograph perhaps best attests. In it — as in the rest of her unforgettable life, Kiki took no prisoners. She didn’t have to — we’d already surrendered.

Kiki is survived by her children Michael Minervini and Patricia “Pookie” Godvin; ex-husband Frank Minervini; grandson Paul Godvin Gipe; son-in-law Steve Gipe; and her brother Don Randolph of Clearwater, Florida. A celebration of Kiki’s life will be held 1 p.m.-3 p.m. Sunday, January 25 at The Bear Cafe for family and friends.