Hell hath no fury… in fact, Hell's obituary says it's serene

The 87-year-old suburban builder's obituary was short and sweet. Twenty sentences summing up a long life.

But his long-ago-divorced first wife's rebuttal to that obituary (an obuttal?) shows no sign of expiring.

Left out of that obituary, the ex-wife still wants her say. Since the original obituary ran in December, she has called, written and paid $4.60 to send us (and the grieving widow) a package of letters, receipts, yellowed newspaper clippings and old sepia-toned photographs from the 1940s, '50s, '60s and '70s.

"I have drawers full of it, if you need more, because I worked my (expletive) off for him," says ex-wife Shelloy Anonich, 89, who is in poor health and lives in Florida.

During a 22-year marriage (her second) that began in 1949 and ended in divorce in 1971, Shelloy Anonich says she was the mover-and-shaker in that marriage and their business lives; she managed the country clubs; and she was the one who got the franchise for the Fred Astaire dance studio -- as suggested by an enclosed 1947 photo of the famous dancer and her signing papers.

In general, she feels slighted by not getting credit as a first wife who believes she helped make her ex-husband into the successful man his obit said he was.

"This is heartbreaking," she says again and again. "He was a good builder, no question about that. I would never, ever take that away from him. But he doesn't deserve credit for one other thing, because I did all that."

As a columnist, I'm hesitant to jump into a half-century old debate between a bitter ex-wife and a dead guy, as the quotes all seem so one-sided. But I want to defuse the situation, and I am interested in the motivation that compels someone to battle to the afterlife over a couple of 50-year-old details.

"The obituary is the definitive statement about a life lived," explains Nigel Starck, journalism professor at the University of South Australia and author of "Life After Death: The Art of the Obituary."

It is not uncommon for sources in obituaries to "overlook failed marriages" and "avoid unpleasantness," Starck e-mails.

"Most of the time no one comes forward to correct it -- unless a woman/man done wrong decides to set the record straight," adds Carolyn Gilbert, editor of obitpage.com, founder of the International Association of Obituarists, and host of the group's annual conference ("From Here to Eternity!") June 12-14 in Las Vegas, New Mexico.

People who pay to print death notices can say "beloved father" even if the deceased was a rat. But newsworthy obituaries written by reporters aim to be truthful.

"This is an official record, and people do need to be accurate," says award-winning obituary writer Kay Powell of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

Survivors can exaggerate -- even little things. When a widow said her husband was "a real good fisherman," Powell took note. But a friend of the deceased said that wasn't true, "so I just skipped that," Powell says.

But some truths are self-evident on deadline. Powell says a reaction to one obituary resulted in the stunned widow discovering her husband had a prior marriage with kids.

"He had never told his family about that," Powell says. "It's not the usual question you ask the widow: 'Could he have a family you didn't know about?' "

Academic, military and historical records are easier to access than they once were. But when in doubt, or if the only sources are all "friends telling me what (the deceased once) told them," Powell says she leaves out a claim or uses vague qualifiers such as "was believed to be among the first."

Omissions can irk the sensitivities of an ex-spouse. But what can a newspaper do?

"The leading British papers (notably the Times, Independent, and Guardian) all allow rejoinders," Starck says. "They encourage readers to send in their views, good or bad, on the assertions made by the published obituary."

In that vein, I hope this column satisfies Shelloy Anonich. Even the upset widow of the man whose obituary fueled this column says she is OK with Shelloy Anonich getting a say (and full credit for the Fred Astaire dance studios), as long as she doesn't claim credit for every success her husband had.

"In her own obituary, she can get credit," the widow says. "I'd be happy to write about it."