The world lost a musical titan. Roberta Flack, the Grammy-winning soul singer whose velvety voice defined a generation with hits like “Killing Me Softly With His Song” and “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” passed away at the age of 88. She died peacefully, surrounded by family, in her longtime Manhattan home at the Dakota, the storied apartment building on the Upper West Side. For decades, this residence was more than just a place to live—it was a sanctuary where Flack’s creativity flourished, where her piano keys sang, and where her legacy took root amid the echoes of a life well-lived.
The Dakota: A Historic Haven
The Dakota, located at 1 West 72nd Street overlooking Central Park, is no ordinary building. Built in 1884, its Gothic architecture and rich history have made it a New York City landmark, home to luminaries like Leonard Bernstein, Lauren Bacall, and, famously, John Lennon. Flack herself lived on the same floor as Lennon and Yoko Ono for years, forming a close friendship with Ono, who later penned liner notes for Flack’s 2012 album of Beatles covers, Let It Be Roberta. The building’s heavy stone walls, high ceilings, and ornate details offered a cocoon of privacy and elegance—a fitting backdrop for an artist whose music was as intimate as it was timeless.
Stepping into Flack’s apartment, one can imagine a space that mirrored her soul: warm, eclectic, and steeped in melody. While the exact layout of her home remains private, the Dakota’s grand interiors—think sprawling rooms, oversized windows, and intricate woodwork—provided a canvas for Flack to infuse with her personality. Her publicist confirmed she passed “at home,” and given her long tenure there, it’s easy to picture a space filled with memories of a career that spanned over five decades.
A Musical Sanctuary
At the heart of Flack’s home was undoubtedly her piano. Music was her lifeline, from her childhood in Black Mountain, North Carolina, where her father salvaged a green-painted piano from a junkyard, to her days as a Howard University prodigy, and later as a global superstar. In her Dakota apartment, that piano likely sat as a silent witness to her final years, even as amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), diagnosed in 2022, robbed her of her ability to play or sing. “I am at home with my piano, on a stage, with my band, in the studio, listening to music,” she once told The Times of India. That instrument, whether a sleek grand or a weathered upright, would have been the room’s centerpiece, its keys worn from years of crafting songs that touched millions.
The walls, too, surely told stories. Framed Grammy Awards—five in total, including back-to-back Record of the Year wins in 1973 and 1974—might have hung alongside photos of her collaborations with Donny Hathaway, whose tragic death in 1979 left an indelible mark on her life. A snapshot of her with Peabo Bryson, with whom she recorded the 1983 hit “Tonight, I Celebrate My Love,” or a memento from her performance with the Fugees, who revived “Killing Me Softly” in 1996, could have adorned a shelf. Each item would have been a testament to a career that defied genres, blending soul, jazz, folk, and pop into what became known as “quiet storm.”
A Space of Comfort and Connection
Flack’s home was not just a shrine to her achievements but a place of warmth and connection. Known for her educator’s spirit—she founded the Roberta Flack School of Music in New York and taught in D.C. schools early in her career—she likely kept her space inviting. A plush sofa, perhaps in a deep burgundy or forest green, might have faced those massive Dakota windows, offering views of Central Park’s treetops. Here, she could have sat with family or friends, sipping tea (she once told PEOPLE she loved simple comforts), reflecting on a life that took her from a segregated South to the heights of musical stardom.
Her son, musician Bernard Wright, and close family were with her at the end, suggesting a home designed for gathering. A dining table might have hosted late-night conversations, the kind where Flack’s wit and wisdom—honed from years of teaching and performing—shone through. The kitchen, though perhaps modest by Dakota standards, could have been a nod to her Southern roots, with the faint memory of recipes from her mother, Irene, a church organist who nurtured her early love of music.
The Final Notes
In her final years, after a 2016 stroke and her ALS diagnosis, Flack’s home became a refuge. The Dakota’s thick walls muffled the city’s chaos, granting her peace as her health declined. Yet, even in silence, the space must have hummed with her legacy. Her last album, Running, Released in 2018, marked the end of her recording career, but her influence lingered—Beyoncé name-checked her in the 2022 “Queens Remix” of “Break My Soul,” placing her alongside Aretha Franklin and Diana Ross.
On that Monday morning, as her family surrounded her, the Dakota apartment held Roberta Flack one last time. The light streaming through those oversized windows might have caught the dust on her piano, a quiet reminder of the melodies she could no longer play. “She died peacefully,” her publicist said, and in that moment, the home that had been her haven for decades became the stage for her final note.
A Legacy Beyond the Walls
Roberta Flack’s Manhattan home was more than a residence—it was a reflection of a woman who broke boundaries, who turned pain and love into song, and who inspired generations. From the Dakota’s hallowed halls, her voice will echo on, in the chords of “Feel Like Makin’ Love,” in the stillness of “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” and in the soul-stirring strains of “Killing Me Softly.” As we mourn her loss, we can take comfort knowing she left us not just a catalog of music, but a glimpse into a life lived with grace, passion, and an unyielding connection to the keys.
Rest in melody, Roberta. Your home may be silent now, but your song plays on.
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