From Gloria Vogel❤️
I have a fond memory of being in New Orleans with Margie in 1964 on our way back to Los Angeles from New York City - in her blue VW beetle convertible. I had been in the United States from my home in England for about two months. She took delight in showing me places that she knew in that fascinating city.
Saturday night she decided we should go to Brennan’s Restaurant. I had no way of knowing that at least a month’s notice of reservation was expected. As we walked in at 7:00 and approached the powers that be, I could tell that this was definitely going to be a rejection. However, Margie being Margie, she took the Maitre D’ aside and whispered something to him. He turned and looked at me, picked up two menus and led us to a very good table. Having settled and looked about me at the exquisite decor and charm of the place, I said to Margie, “How did you get us in here?” She grinned and said, “Easy! I said you were Winston Churchill’s niece, it was your first time in New Orleans and I was authorized to show you around the city.”
I met Margie the first night I arrived in Los Angeles. Bob’s mother, Margaret, was a close friend and next-door neighbor of my aunt Dorothy and her husband Colonel Wells. They lived in Beverly Hills, and as neither of my two aunts drove, Margaret took them to the airport to meet me. That night Margaret and Bob's dad, invited me, my aunt and uncle, son Bob, daughter-in-law Margie, to have cocktails to welcome me to California. I was happy to also meet Bob and Margie’s five-month-old baby, John. Margie and I hit it off immediately. She declared she would love to show me the sights. Bob’s mom said she would babysit, and treat us to our lunch. Suffice to say, we had a wonderful day and became fast friends from that day on. The Italians have a word for it: simpatico.
When our close mutual friend, Ida, was in her last months, (we didn’t know that), she traveled from New Jersey where she had moved to be with her family, and returned to California on vacation. We soon realized that her trip was to say goodbye to her friends. Margie, with her innate wisdom, moved her from the place her son had chosen for her in Santa Monica, not realizing that it was ‘out of the way’. The result was also in Santa Monica, a retirement hotel where there were many activities. We were able to eat there, take her out to meet old friends, and give her solace before she returned to New Jersey, her intent fulfilled.
Margie was there for everyone. She was very, very smart. She educated herself with diligent research into whatever problem or inadequacy presented itself. Often I said to myself - no way! - but…her suggestions worked. Yes, they did indeed, they invariably worked.
When John and Wen were maybe 10 and 11, Margie rented a sweet cottage in Malibu. She decided to paint her sons’ bedroom red, white, and blue, but economically. Thus she painted the walls white, then dripped red and blue lines down the walls two feet apart. Sadly, that sweet cottage was destroyed in one of the horrible Malibu fires. Their cat was later found hiding with horrible burns, but was saved and healed.
John and Wen were gifted a Saint Bernard puppy by their parents. Wickedly, their pup was stolen from their yard. Trying to get him back, Margie advertised for a Saint Bernard puppy matching their puppy’s looks. Someone answered, and she and I agreed to meet to “buy” the puppy at Malibu pier. Sadly, she and I waited a lengthy time there, but the person never appeared.
Margie knew my children, my step-daughter Christine, from three years old, and Jane, from birth. Also my granddaughter, Grace. She understood how much my family meant to me, as hers meant to her. We talked all the time about our loved ones. We had a code for her Navy son, as I had for my British Army nephew, to relay to each other what was going on, (the little bit we knew!).
Margie first came to know my nephew during the summer he was 18 when he came to America for the summer. He went up north with her and worked locally - the farmer next door said he was the best worker he had ever had! Margie drove him partway across country on a visit to a friend in Colorado but refused his wish to bungee jump off some horrendous height they passed by. "Not on my watch!" she told him. Margie was all about safety, and loyalty, bless her. I miss her like the dickens, and shall forever.
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