The other confidante was John Scoulios.
Scoulios — who has never before spoken publicly about the music legend — met Shirley in the early 1980s, when he was an aimless 20-something flipping burgers at a greasy spoon near Shirley's place. To Scoulios, "Doc was just another customer." After a few counterside chats, Shirley invited Scoulios to his home for some music and conversation.
"I didn't know people lived in Carnegie Hall," Scoulios recalls of his first encounter with Shirley's sprawling loft, faithfully reproduced in Green Book. "I was just in awe of that apartment, the chandelier, the grand piano..."
"We spoke the whole evening," Scoulios recalls. "He kept telling me that I'm intelligent. I kept thinking, 'This guy doesn't even know me!'" Shirley eventually convinced him to go back to City College of New York to finish a degree in mathematics. "Doc just had a way of making you feel guilty about things," says Scoulios, now a respected math professor.
When Scoulios went on to get married and have children, Shirley took an active role in raising them, teaching John's son Nicholas his first piano scales at nine months. "He was able to teach anyone at any age anything," says Scoulios. "It was remarkable." But back to that big move: To get Shirley out of Carnegie Hall, Kappeyne and Scoulios made arrangements with the city to shut down all traffic on 57th Street. Why? Because they also hired a huge crane to hoist Shirley's grand piano out the window to the boulevard below.
"It was an arduous task," Scoulios says. "That piano! And there was so much stuff in the apartment. It was definitely hard, but we got it done. And he left on his own terms." Shirley relocated to a $9,000-per-month apartment at 11 Waverly Place in Greenwich Village, where he lived until his death.
"His health had been failing for some time," notes Kappeyne.
That airborne Steinway now sits in a warehouse. Shirley's eclectic art collection, including the "Orpheus and the Underworld" painting that graces his 1956 album cover of the same name, currently resides in Scoulios' basement. The entirety of Shirley's estate, valued at between $500,000 and $1 million, was left to Kappeyne, who was also named executor of Shirley's will — with the stipulation that Scoulios take over if Kappeyne were unable to perform his duties.
Why designate Kappeyne the sole beneficiary? "He trusted me with his legacy," Kappeyne says. As for his next of kin, Shirley specified in his will, "I have my family and relatives in mind, but make no bequest for them as they are already taken care of." Kappeyene and Scoulios first saw the film at an intimate screening for friends and family held in New York City last August.
They had been consulted by Green Book producers during the making of the film for little things: What pieces of music would Shirley play? How did he sit at the piano? Where did the other musicians sit? Edwin Shirley III, the financier son of Shirley's brother Maurice, a retired doctor, attended that first screening with his wife, Yvonne. Edwin later described the experience of watching a Hollywood interpretation of his uncle's road trip through the segregated South as being "rather jarring."
Maurice and his wife Patricia were not there, but later dismissed Green Book as a "symphony of lies," insisting the dynamic between Shirley and his driver Tony Vallelonga (played by Viggo Mortensen in the film) was never more than "an employer-employee relationship." Kappeyne and Scoulios are far more forgiving of the movie, which both men acknowledge captures a slice of Shirley's life that occurred decades before either knew him.
"Going in, I looked at the film like, that’s right, that’s true, that’s false, that’s something Doc would do or say," recalls Scoulios. "I knew the guy. But the film is Hollywood and writers will add their writing privilege, so to speak." Kappeyne has been a more vocal supporter of Green Book, what he calls a "very rich and very dense" film.
"It's wonderful," he says of Ali's performance. "Dr. Shirley was a very complicated figure. The solitude, the wariness — it was very much him up there on the screen. He would have been very pleased with the way Mahershala played him."
He also thinks a much-discussed sequence, in which Vallelonga lectures Shirley on the art of eating fried chicken with your hands, has been misinterpreted: "Of course Dr. Shirley ate chicken. But he wasn't going to buy into the stereotype in front of Tony." Still, one scene took both Kappeyne and Scoulios by surprise.
That was the one in which Shirley is arrested for soliciting gay sex at a YMCA, only to have Vallelonga bribe a cop into letting him go with a warning. Until they saw the film, neither Kappeyne nor Scoulios had so much as suspected that Shirley — who had been married to a woman and divorced — might have had gay inclinations.
"He was a very private man in many aspects," Kappeyne says.
This article originally appeared on THR.com.