ustxtxb_obs_1975_09_05_50_00011-00000_000.pdf

Margaret Eads September 5, 19 75 11 vr t . 4 Have lunch in paradise. Behind our modest exterior lies one of the most beautiful gardens in Austin. Enjoy crepe and quiche lunches or a variety of sandwiches all afternoon in the midst of our flowering courtyard. Ihe Old Fecan Cafe 314 East 6th St. HALF PRICE RECORDS MAGAZINE e el this morning described her as “born to wealth.” Miss Ima was not. Her father was a young district attorney in Mineola when she was born, and his family remained in moderate circumstances until well after his term as governor. He furnished the formal parlor of the Governor’s Mansion with wicker furniture because it was cheap. When the Hoggs moved out he had to borrow the money to pay the mover. Miss Hogg’s mother died when she was thirteen, and she learned responsibility before she acquired wealth. The responsibility of that wealth was the overriding theme of her life. She and her brothers had an almost mystical belief that, because their money came from oil found under their land and was essentially accidental, it was only theirs to hold in trust. She spent very little on herself but millions on projects to improve her state, which she saw as a unique place “an empire in itself,” she would say. She was a fiercely loyal Texan, but not in the narrow, small way associated with Texas millionaires. She wanted Texas to have the best: she saw models in the East and in Europe and set about creating the equivalents here. She gave her home town of Houston a magnificent symphony, a museum of American decorative arts matched by few twentieth-century collections, and a park equal to that of any major city in the world. She encouraged and cajoled and pleaded and organized until her fellow-citizens joined her in these efforts. She was a master at getting people to do things; she set an example that others were embarrassed not to follow. “I don’t want to be on the committee; I’ll just sit in and advise,” she would say, and her advice was always good. SHE LOVED to be responsible for people as well as projects, and showered her friends with remedies, home recipes, fruit cakes, boxes of cookies, gardening advice, and gadgets that attracted her fancy. Her deafness in her last years made it hard for her to control the volume of her voice, and sometimes her advice was heard by those it was not intended for. One night at the Houston Symphony, as the conductor bowed to the audience, she remarked to her companion, “He’s getting bald on top. He should do something about his hair.” This was heard several seats away, and as the conductor turned his back and raised his baton, she continued, “You know, you should do something about your hair, too.” The baton stopped in mid-air and the conductor turned around surely to ask for silence; No, to explain some musical detail about the next piece. When he finished and turned back to the orchestra, Miss Ima continued, “Do you know what I use?” and then, just before the baton came down, in a voice audible for eight or ten rows, “MANGE CURE.” The delight that her friends took in her company stemmed from the freshness of her mind as well as the richness of her conversation. She continued to grow intellectually all of her life, to explore new ideas and adopt new projects with a vigor that could be physically exhausting. When she was in her eighties she decided to create an outdoor museum at Winedale, and she travelled to the East Coast to examine outdoor museums, attend seminars, and consult with the leading members of the profession on such esoteric subjects as paint restoration and wood preservation. She bought a farm near the site and personally supervised construction, picking her way across rotted floor beams and up and down sagging staircases. In her nineties she added a second house to this museum, and repeated the process, although she allowed herself to be carried up the staircases in a wheelchair this time. She knew the end might come any time, but she wanted to be active until it came. She would say, “When you’re over ninety it doesn’t matter much where you die.” She loved Europe, and especially Germany and England. She admired German culture and was fascinated by the way it worked itself out in Texas; she took pleasure in London’s parks and museums and gardens. She did not die far from home; she made so many friends that she was at home wherever she was. They will all miss her, for she touched each of them so deeply. Everyone who knew her will be richer for it, the rest of their lives. ISILI LAVAC,A WACO: 25n 4 COLUMBlig DALLAg: Li 535 141WINNSYAVX 14 OS XL/41 5219 W.LoVERS LIST. Big sax 2cr o5 lea S. ZANG PRICES.