Pamela Doreen Mary Cross passed away on April 29. Just three weeks prior, her family and friends celebrated her 99th birthday at her son’s antique shop in North Oakland, where she lived and worked.
Pam was born in Montreal, Canada, to English parents Lillian Maud Walker Bayle and William Robert Bayle, and spent her childhood in Hayes, a small village outside of London. She emigrated to the United States with her then-husband, William H. Cross, in 1956, and their baby, Anita. She gave birth to son James here in the Bay Area.
My grandmother lived a colorful, extraordinary life. She loved a good adventure. A fearless, independent woman of the strongest will, she knew how to laugh, indulge, and above all, she knew how to dress.
Back in England, Pam and her sister, Betty, would get dressed up and take the train into London to go dancing. Later, Pamela could be found dancing onstage for Vaudeville Night at the Oakland Auditorium (now the Kaiser Center for the Arts). Betty later joined Pam and her daughter, Carole, and grandchildren, Francis and Andrew, here in the Bay Area.
Pam, far left, on stage at the Oakland Auditorium on Vaudeville Night. Credit: Courtesy Heather Vaughan
A very “definite” person (her words), Pam embarked on her own journey in her 40s. After her divorce, she moved to Novato where she made a name for herself as a premier Marin County interior decorator. An avid artist, she drew, painted, decorated, and designed in many ways.
And, oh, did she tell stories. Some of her best included designing the house of Jonathan Cain (yes, of Journey) not once but twice; arriving at a design client’s home to find them all swimming “in the nude”; having a friend hide her car in his garage until she could make the payments; selling furniture to the Hell’s Angels at one of her first jobs here in Oakland; telling off a police officer who pulled her over; and how her escape-artist golden retriever, Tuli, could be found down the block at the bar without fail. Everywhere she went, Pamela made a splash.
Pam at The Antique Centre. Credit: Courtesy Heather Vaughan
Pam’s adventurous spirit took her around the world — to Australia, to Italy, to Mexico. In her later years, she traveled frequently to Santa Fe, New Mexico, and dreamed of moving there. She loved the open space, the mountains, the art galleries, and, of course, the flamenco. We took road trips and pushed her in a wheelchair over bumpy trails in Bandelier National Monument, and she waded in the Rio Grande on the road to Taos. And when I was nervously telling family I would be traveling to India, she dispelled all my fears with one phrase: “Ride an elephant for me.” She may have been more excited for my trip than I was.
In her later years, Pam lived downstairs from her son at the Antique Centre. Even then, she lived independently in her own apartment, often making breakfast or dinner for James. Seven days a week, she worked in the shop selling antiques (her choice; Grandma made all her own choices).
She loved chatting with the many people who came by in search of treasures. Whether shopping or not, passersby would often stop to say hi to her or my Uncle James, or just come in and give Sprinkle, Pam’s famous tortoiseshell cat, a scratch behind her ears.
One day in the shop, a customer was overheard saying, “There she is, the Matriarch of Telegraph Avenue!” She will be missed by so many.
She was the center of our family. But we are also aware that her gravity extended far beyond our orbit. Customers brought her candy and lunch (thanks, Mikey). They brought their dogs and babies by to meet her. Neighbors kept their eye out for her, as walking became more difficult as the years went by.
Peter, who worked upstairs, helped her tremendously with everything from navigating her cellphone to getting up the stairs at the end of the day. Esther, a longtime neighbor who became a beloved friend of my grandmother’s in her last years, helped her enormously as well. We are grateful for the many people who loved her so much.
Pam (with her arm around the bride) and family, at her niece Gina’s wedding in England in the late 1980s. Credit: Courtesy Heather Vaughan
Pam was an active matriarch until her final day, her mind sharp and clear. A woman of strict routine, she woke up on what would be her last day with us, and, like usual, got ready to go down to the shop for work, choosing a fabulous outfit of flowing grays and a bright red sweater. We all knew she hoped her children could be with her when she passed. At the hospital, she even waited for her daughter to arrive from Hawaii before departing. I think we should all be very proud of the way we took care of her as a whole family, across an ocean, in her final days and moments.
Pamela is the last of her five siblings (brothers Lawrence, Doug, Bill, and Ron, and sister Betty) to pass away.
Pam leaves her son James and daughter Anita; granddaughters Heather and Kellie; her great-grandson Noa James; her niece Carole, to whom she was extremely close; great-nephews Francis and Andrew; Jaycee; Laura, Stefan, and family; her nieces Gina, Desi, and Sylvia, and dear family in England and Portugal; her sons-in-law, Shane and Roland; the many, many friends who loved her deeply; and the Telegraph Avenue community.
There will be a private scattering of ashes into the water off the coast of Marin, a place she loved very much.
We are in the process of arranging a public memorial gathering.
She will be remembered and deeply missed for her big smile, fearlessness, and vibrance.
On her 99th birthday, a friend asked the secret to a long life. She replied with a phrase she said often: “Keep moving. Keep smiling.”
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