|
|
|
|
MARGARET WALSH July 28, 1921 – July 7, 2005 by Dorothy K. Stix With comments by Susan Rice When I first met her, people called her Margaret or Marge. Tom and Marge met when they both worked for the same book store, long before I came on the scene. She was a friend not only to Tom, but also to Tom's parents, and her friendship continued with me right on down to our children. Somewhere along the way, I started calling her Maggie and the name stuck. It was only recently in a telephone conversation that she told me she still had not forgiven me for that. Maggie was a regular at Silver Blaze races from the very beginning, and also attended many of Julian and Eleanor Wolff's cocktail parties. In 1992 she was named The Woman for the BSI and she became an Adventuress in 1995, choosing as her investiture The Third Cab. She was a fun person to be around. As they got older, our sons enjoyed going into the city and doing something—usually the theatre—with Maggie. When we would arrange for her to come and visit in Norwood, she’d make it sound as if we were bringing her out to the wilderness; she was a city girl through and through. Maggie spent most of her working life in an administrative position at The New Yorker. She enjoyed her years there, and told remarkable stories about the writers and editors she knew and the lengthy cocktail hours the staff enjoyed. She made the New York City of the middle decades of the 20th century alive and vivid for all who listened. In her prime, Maggie loved people and travel and martinis and books and theatre and New York. She was proud of her Brooklyn childhood and often shared stories of those distant days. Before walking became difficult for her, Maggie saw virtually every play and musical on Broadway. Knowing her love for the theatre, a friend invited her as a guest to a luncheon of former Ziegfeld Girls. There was a rather obscure actor present who Maggie immediately recognized from a play she’d seen years before, and enchanted him by describing his artistry in a well-remembered scene. Within weeks she received an invitation to join the club. She loved dining out almost as much as theatre, and seemed to have enjoyed meals at every New York restaurant founded prior to 1990 or so. Above all things, Maggie prized her independence, so the fact that she died a self-sufficient woman, still living on her own in the center of Manhattan, tempers our grief at her departure. Her body grew increasingly feeble, but her mind was sharp and lively until the stroke that carried her away. It’s difficult to capsulate a friendship of over fifty years. She will be missed by my family and her many friends. The Serpentine Muse is copyrighted by the Adventuresses of Sherlock Holmes, and written permission must be obtained for reproduction of an article in another publication or website. Contact the Webmistress at mmckayATL@comcast.net
|
|
