DORIS A. POOLE

Doris A. Poole (née Sherrill) was born on January 7th, 1932 in Coweta, Oklahoma, the fourth and final child of Goldie (Peters) and Emmit Sherrill.

“Shortie,” as she was known, knew little of what life might’ve been like before the Great Depression. She found riches in roaming barefoot where she pleased, hollering “yayyyy” at any moment she found worthy, and surprising people with her mischief, wit, and dedication to speaking her mind. While she was reportedly an obedient child, family stories also affirm her life-long aversion to sitting still, boring company, and being told what to do. 

As she grew into adolescence, the family moved to the dazzling metropolis of Okmulgee, Oklahoma. There, despite the threat of being snatched bald-headed, Doris enjoyed spying on the nearby government camp that housed German prisoners of war. As a teenager, Doris channeled her creativity into playing the concertina in a local band, alongside the late guitarist Indian Bill, who remained the unrequited love of her life. In high school, Doris became an all-state debate champion who, for over seven decades thereafter, argued with the unmistakable presence and insistence of an accordion player.

Growing into a beauty that rivaled Ava Gardner, Doris was courted by Gardner’s bullfighter, Luis Miguel Dominguin, and Harry Belafonte. Long before this, however, Doris caught the eye of the late Rev. Morris Wise, a “very good-looking” preacher’s son, and the two were married. The couple had three children together, and, thanks to Morris’ position in a booming oil industry, the family built a glamorous life in Venezuela and Colombia. 

Their marriage was, however, truncated by “irreconcilable differences,” and Doris fled with her young children back to Oklahoma City. With the ERA still a decade away, she discovered she had no rights to marital funds. And so, owning nothing beyond an envy-worthy passport in a trunk full of starched linens and silver tableware, Doris struck out on her own to support her family, thereafter maintaining the poise, sophistication, and lavish frugality of deposed royalty.

Working through the ranks of Channel 5, Doris moved on to support the advertising agency, Ross Cummings & Co. At the Okie epicenter of the Mad Men era, she met my father, O. Gail Poole, an ambitious, intelligent, and charismatic advertising executive and artist. The two were married and traveled extensively in Europe prior to having me; during this time, as Dad became more engrossed in fine art, Mom finally became the glamorous, country bohemian she was born to be.

The oil boom of the 1970’s marked Mom’s heyday. When she and Dad weren’t scuffing up their Luccheses on honkytonk dance floors, Mom spent her time in Science of Mind services, can-can classes, tarot cards, bridge parties, spiritualism, and macrame. She gleefully experimented with casseroles and other exotic dishes, hosting dinner parties, family gatherings, and a notable Thanksgiving with “a whole passel of beautiful, joyful Persians” a year before the Iranian Revolution. Her bedtime stories to her children were, and remained, jaw-dropping, epic tales, always improvised, and always, somehow, featuring a potato.

Also embracing the fervent wave of Cowboy Bohemia, Dad ditched the Triumph, skinny tie, and barber to become a bolo-wearing, VW-bus-driving, full-time artist. (You can find out more about his life at ogailpoole.com.) Dad was a major player in the Western art scene, and the two traveled together frequently to Mexico and Santa Fe, where Mom used her charm and social acumen to support his career (and help him tolerate cocktail parties and gallery openings). Those pesky “irreconcilable differences” prohibited Doris from spending any further time in marriage; however, Doris & Gail remained close friends and road trip companions until his death in 2013.

A free agent in the late 1970’s, Mom became a legend on the dance floor, taking names and breaking hearts, right up until the Oil Bust went and ruined it for everybody. After a brief stint chasing a dream in Seattle, Doris’ talents landed her in the Oklahoma Attorney General’s office, where she was (and forever remained) a fierce and loyal supporter of Drew Edmondson. She is remembered by the state’s attorneys as a kind, no-nonsense “drill sergeant,” gracefully corralling endless papers and people into their proper places to make headway in the Capitol’s enduring byzantine morass of politics. 

In the midst of her working life, Doris maintained her love of the arts, channeling her innate ability to transform the mundane into the beautiful. She made time to create an inspired garden, also taking classes in creative writing, upholstery, and floral design.

Doris maintained a lively social life, much of it anchored by legendary Sherrill family gatherings hosted by matriarchal forces of nature, the late Aunts Gin and Betty Jane (with her dear, late cousin Linda never far from their side). Doris reveled in recharging among her kind, holding her own against her fun-loving, feisty, and fiercely-competitive cousins, whose mastery of poker, two-stepping, and wisecracks helped to balance the bootlicking insincerity she faced each week at the Capitol. Here, she could return to being the outspoken, sparkling baby of the family, a mantle she thoroughly embraced.

After her retirement from the state, Doris became a docent at the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum, where she took pride in her fashion and friendships. She avidly researched works in the collection (arguing with Dad about which artists deserved mention), and wrote thoughtful and informative scripts for her fellow docents to deliver to the public. It also bears mentioning that artists of many a Prix de West requested her help by name, some recognizing a kindred spirit, many fondly remembering her as “Poole’s WW2.”

Spinal surgery forced Doris to hang up her bolo and nametag; thereafter, she enjoyed doing whatever she pleased, albeit a little more slowly, including a glorious barrage of travel, following her family and her whimsy to celebratory spaces near and far. She also continued to host family gatherings that always, ALWAYS held laughter, sweet iced tea, at least one racy joke that brought the house down, and at least half a pound of butter.

As the years marched forward, Doris became increasingly dismayed that she was “outliving all of the people I want to talk to, and the rest can’t hear me.” After my father’s death in 2013, Mom finally took him up on his invitation to live in his home in Norman.

After a dizzying remodel of the home’s interior, Doris began to enjoy her garden more than any space on earth. She delighted in butterflies, squirrels, and morning doves (“poor thing must be lonely - this morning he was only one ‘hooo’”). She celebrated all days ending with a “y,” and often donned costumes and sequins just for the fun of it. She screened her calls, hosted company when she felt like it, and added to her shoe collection when it pleased her. She remained a solid friend and devoted mother, never short on advice, opinion, sweet tea, hilarious non-sequiturs, and butter.

As you may be able to glean, Doris was a joyful, creative soul who was seldom down for long. She was horribly insulted by the tumors discovered in 2022, but soldiered on with dignity and determination. She “loved her mind, loved her kids, and loved this life,” and did not want to leave any of it. Her final days were spent surrounded by love, music, family, laughter, incense, song, praise, and stories of wayward potatoes. 

And thus, after 91 years on this planet, Doris skedaddled on to more adventures. She was preceded in death by her parents, Goldie & Emmitt, sisters Hazel (Sherrill) & Bette (Garrett), brother Don, daughter Alexis (Sterling) (née Edward), ex-husbands Morris and Gail, Indian Bill, and countless cousins and friends. 

Remaining to carry on her celebratory spirit and unpack the significant impact Doris made on their lives (and countless Lenox swans), are her three children, Diane (Zueger) of Seattle, Terry (Wise) of Norman, and Nicole (Poole) of Oklahoma City. Doris loved being “Gramma Dorcie” to grandchildren Danielle, Bill and Sean, great grandchildren Sakari, Joanna and Andi, niece Gloria (Sherrill), great-nephew Dennis (Anderson) and great-niece Debbie (Anderson), and many wonderful cousins. She held lasting friendships with Virginia Averill, RuthAnn Burch, and Rhonda Spencer, whose stories of Doris never cease to amaze and delight her family.

On a personal note, my own admiration for my mother was profound. Despite untold hardships and heartbreaks, that tenacious little woman maintained her flair, independence, and integrity, and never lost her joy or her devout belief in the power of Love. She proofed my papers and business proposals, called me daily, and cried “yayyyyyyy” at each performance she could come see. Among other things, Mom taught me to love life, work on myself, never shy from a debate, and pursue integrity…and full-fat butter. Finally, while most people assume my creativity came from Dad, I hope that, after reading this, you can see Mom contributed her fair share.

The people who knew and loved her are now left with the very peculiar feeling of a small town staring at the spot where the circus once held court - blinking at the world returning to normal, and coming to terms with the colorful memories, magical frippery and flights of imagination that were ours for a time. I will miss her until the end of my days, but DAMN I’m glad I knew her.

If you have stories of Doris, please send them to me at nicole@sparklahoma.org. I will share then with my family, and, with your permission, will also post them here.

Thank you for loving my mom. Neither I, nor SPARK!, would be here without her.

Rest in Peace, Rest in Power, and SHINE ON

Doris A. Poole

January 7, 1932 - February 24, 2023

Celebrating Doris A. Poole