You may not be able to live like John Lennon, but for tens of thousands of dollars at Frank Campbell Funeral Home, you can die like him.
Elizabeth Meyer, the socialite turned funeral party planner for the rich and famous, has just written a new memoir “Good Mourning,” and it’s full of fascinating tidbits about how the rich die (hint: it’s not the way the rest of us do). For instance, they don’t die during the summer (why miss parties in the Hamptons?) and if you are a famous party boy, you can be buried in a Snoopy t-shirt with a bottle of absinthe.
Meyer became transfixed with funerals after she planned her father’s at Frank Campbell, and though she slummed it for a few years after college working for a charity in South Africa, she finally came to her senses with some sage advice from a friend: “It’s charity work, and it’s on the Upper East Side.” Meyer was peculiarly good at her job, working there for five years, but she quit after a rumor surfaced that she was sleeping with the boss — something Meyer finds completely repugnant. ‘The guys I went out with were twenty years younger, ten times richer, and a hundred times more attractive . . . an overweight, graying family man was hardly the guy I was trying to bag. Mom had suffered enough already.”
Coincidentally, last week marked the 10th anniversary of ‘Six Feet Under’; the HBO series about a family-run funeral home. As whacky as some of Meyer’s
parties funerals sound, we aren’t sure any of them could possibly beat the best television death scene of all time.