2.17.2011

Beginnings

Margaret K. McElderry
07/10/1912 – 02/14/2011


My mentor and friend, Margaret K. McElderry, passed away at the age of 98 on February 14, 2011. Valentine's Day. A day on which we celebrate and express love. And a day somehow wholly appropriate on which to say farewell to a woman who was full to overflowing with a passion for imagination, story, a beautifully crafted book, laughter, friends, fine wine and delicious food, blue skies over sparkling oceans, the quiet revelatory conversation and the raucous celebratory gathering—a woman so full of love and enthusiasm for all life has to offer professionally and personally.

Where our work ended and our friendship began, where our friendship ended and our work began, it’s hard to say. I suppose though, the working friendship and friendly working began the day in early August 1990 when I tried to reach Margaret to tell her I was accepting her job offer. Margaret was leaving that day at Noon for her annual vacation on Nantucket and we’d agreed I’d call her at home with my “Yes” or “No.” I made my decision. It was going to be “Yes.” That morning at eight o’clock, I called. No answer. I called again. No answer. I waited a half-hour and called again. No answer. I called over to Margaret’s office at Macmillan to confirm I had the right number. No one was in yet and I left a message to say I was doing all I could to reach Margaret to tell her I wanted the job and would they please let the HR folks know. I called Margaret again. No answer. I was getting on the subway to go to Random House where I was working at the time. I found a payphone to call my partner and my mother to ask them to please keep trying Margaret McElderry’s phone number while I was on the subway. They did. No answer. I got to Random House, called again. No answer. I left another message with Margaret’s assistant. I decided to come clean and tell Margaret’s friend, Knopf editor, Frances Foster what was going so she could confirm I was dialing the right number. I was.

Now I’d not only essentially given notice to Random House without actually accepting the job offer from Margaret, but it was getting on towards 11:00 and I was frantic. I knew darn well you don’t promise Margaret McElderry you’ll call her and not call her. I called Macmillan again and was told my messages had started to set off great concern. Publisher Judy Wilson was putting McElderry Books’ art director Barbara Fitzsimmons into a taxi at that very moment to send her down to Margaret’s house on Washington Square to see if everything was alright. Oh, and by the way, Judy Wilson was delighted, I was told, that I wanted the job. I called again. No answer. And then, just before Noon, my phone rang. Judy Wilson was on the line to tell me it seems Barbara got to Margaret’s house in a progressively nervous state, and was pounding on the door and holding her finger on the doorbell – only to have a rather put-out Margaret McElderry open the door, take one look at Barbara’s pale face, and say something to the effect of…”What are you doing here? Did you all think I was dead?” Well, in fact, yes we did. And, in fact, while Margaret McElderry was clearly very much alive, her telephone line was completely done for. It seems not three minutes before Barbara arrived, she’d just figured out what was happening when she’d quite irately picked up the receiver to call Macmillan’s HR department to tell them QUOTE “If that Emma Dryden doesn’t have the common decency and courtesy to call me at the time we arranged for her to call me, I don’t want her working for me anyway.” UNQUOTE.

Margaret and I never did speak that day, but I started as her associate editor on September 19, 1990, a week or so before she returned to the office, tan and energized, from Nantucket. And when we saw each other, we hugged and laughed and had some rather choice things to say about AT&T.   The rest is history and we told and retold that story over and over again because it said something about our partnership and it made us laugh. Such a remarkably unexpected beginning to a remarkably unexpected friendship and collaboration.I’d give anything to call you right now, Margaret, to tell you how much it all meant to me—professionally and personally—to accept that job offer, to accept that gift. And this time, we'd use our cell phones.

15 comments:

  1. What a great ending to such a beautifully written piece about Margaret. How wonderful that you became so close with a woman who gave so much. Thank you for sharing this wonderful story Emma.

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  2. What a memorable start to a memorable relationship...with a warm ending. Beautiful...and quintessentially Margaret.

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  3. Jeff Cooper2/17/2011

    And this time, in all likelihood, AT&T still wouldn't connect the call.

    Lovely story.

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  4. Wonderful story, Emma--and one that I hadn't heard before!

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  5. A great story and a lovely tribute. Thank you for sharing.

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  6. I can just hear Margaret's voice as Barbara stood at her front door. AND I can hear her on the phone with HR. This is a marvelous account of a life- changing beginning - for both you and for MKM. She is still with us in so many ways, and you are one of them.
    Thank you Emma. . .

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  7. That is an incredibly, beautiful story. A wondrous example of the universe at work. So meant to be on so many levels! Thanks for starting my day! J

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  8. A beautiful tribute, Emma. Your friendship shines through every word! Thank you for sharing.

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  9. Thank you for sharing that lovely memory with us, Emma.

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  10. This is such a great story, Emma. Thank you.

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  11. A timely reminder that we do not know what friendships our life path yet has in store for us.

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  12. Thank you for sharing this lovely tribute. How wonderful it must have been to work with and befriend such a legend of children's books.

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  13. What a loving and lovely story. Thank you.

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  14. Great story you have posted..Thanks for sharing..

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  15. I love this story! Makes me wish I knew both of you!

    Judith Torres

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