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CHAPTER THREE

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Toward the end of 1964, Virginia formed a second close and enduring friendship with Laura Grafman, who is currently the executive vice president of the Scottsdale Healthcare Foundation. Laura recalls the day she first met Virginia in December of that year:

I was director of student financial aid at the National College of Education. The president of the college, K. Richard Johnson, called me to say Virginia Galvin was going to have lunch with him that day and talk about establishing a scholarship in Paul Galvin's name. "Since you administer the scholarship program and all the student financial aid, why don't you join us?" he asked. So I went down to his office at the appointed time and in walked this perfectly stunning woman, gorgeous, regal, with the most wonderful smile, the most engaging personality and look in her eye, and I just thought, wow! We talked the entire afternoon at the Homestead Restaurant, and it was a wonderful afternoon because I think we each knew we were going to be important parts of one another's lives.

Virginia beautifully endowed a scholarship in Paul Galvin's name, then invited me to attend a charity luncheon for which she was the honorary chairman. It benefited The Cradle, a home and adoption center for unwed mothers in Evanston. We met in December; the luncheon was in February. Our friendship started from there. We stayed in touch by phone and by mail, and when she went out to Arizona, I'd hear from her frequently.

Our paths crossed over and over for a number of years, at first having to do with scholarship projects, then later as close friends. How to describe it? Who would ever expect that a meeting initiated by a business obligation would develop into a lifelong friendship with the kind of depth we shared over the years? There was a twenty-year difference in our ages, but it never mattered in our friendship. It was an opportunity meant to be. That's how I felt about Virginia. I had no idea, that day, when I walked into the president's office, how that moment in time was going to change my life.

Virginia's friendship with Laura and later with Laura's husband, Dayton Grafman, would continue to flourish, deepening even more in the years after Virginia moved to Arizona. In June 1976, the Grafmans relocated from Illinois to Arizona, and Laura would prove, over the next thirty-three years, to be an invaluable helpmate, confidante, companion, and devoted friend to Virginia.

These new friendships-in addition to her continued close relationships with her parents, sister, and nephew; the Galvin family; old friends of hers and Paul's; her housekeeper, Alma; and her hairdresser, dear friend, and confidante, Gladys Heimbaugh (later Gladys Leach)-helped sustain Virginia through the demanding public role she had taken on, a job requiring long hours of behind-the-scenes work and formal attendance at countless social and charity engagements. These friendships, many of them with people from modest backgrounds similar to hers, gave Virginia a much-needed sense of comfort and familiarity, a grounding in trust. These were people she could be herself and relax with, people who didn't want anything from her other than her friendship. They loved her for who she was, not for what she had or for what she represented or for any prestige that might be gained by being her friend. Her housekeeper, who lived with her and ate with her, was a dear friend; her hairdresser stayed over on weekends, and they would go out together. Virginia loved to go to the Hubata house and relax in the kitchen, which she also loved to do at the home of her friend, Laura Grafman. What a relief it must have been to decompress after playing the grande dame, the gracious, gorgeous Mrs. Paul Galvin, and to sit at Nell's or Laura's kitchen table and just be herself and be loved for that.

Gradually, Virginia began going out with carefully selected male companions, not seeking a full-blown relationship, as she still deeply missed Paul, but looking for a pleasant companion. As beautiful as Virginia was, she suffered no lack of suitable gentlemen willing to act as escort. A number of men from her social set were happy to have Virginia on their arm, whether it was Ray Harkrider, Jack Kemmer, Jim Donnelly, or others. They provided her with company for charity events, golf or dancing, theater and concerts. This kind of socializing helped balance the loss of Paul, offering welcome diversion from her charitable work. Virginia was learning to navigate the constant demands made upon her resources by many worthy people from many good causes and organizations, each hoping to win her financial favor. The pressure of judging which causes most deserved Paul's financial investment, and later her own, created a burden of responsibility few people other than a handful of other extraordinarily wealthy philanthropists might fully understand.

A few years after Paul's death, Virginia began what she described as "tape-sponding," making thirty- to forty-five- minute audiocassette tapes, "spoken letters," and mailing them off to friends and family. Still extant is a partial collection of tapes made for her parents during 1963 and 1964, a few of the tapes co-recorded with her sister Carol or with an old friend from Tucson, a rancher named Jack Kemmer. The tapes record the surprising pleasure of Virginia's gentle, musical voice. Not only do the tapes offer a gratifyingly intimate aural impression of Virginia's personality, but they are also informative of an era. Virginia talks about the weather, how her yard looks, and what activities she planned for that day, all the small, almost humble details that revivify and contextualize her life. Rich vignettes emerge as Virginia humorously recounts her attempts to pack for an upcoming trip to Arizona; as she describes shopping expeditions and dress alterations at Blum's or Martha Weathered, favorite Chicago stores; as she reiterates an emotionally charged, tearful determination to pick herself up out of her loneliness and live as Paul would want her to; or as she describes a concert or show to which she had treated herself.

What follows is a small sampling of excerpts from these audiotapes, which provide insights into Virginia's daily life, both ordinary and extraordinary, as a widow on Normandy Place. Each of these tapes, addressed to her parents, begins very precisely: with the date, the hour, the setting, and a report of the weather. Invariably, Virginia signs off with a merry "Bye-bye, dears!"

This is one of those times I receive the strong feeling that Paul taps me on the shoulder and helps me with a situation; it's a strange and wonderful thing.

-February 4, 1963

I made eight tapes today! Tomorrow I will devote the entire day to tax work. I must keep my account book up to date, month by month, must record in my record book. The day will be quiet, lovely. I'll peck along no matter how long it takes me. I've felt quite good today, and tonight Alma and I had dinner left from last night's lovely dinner party. Here we go [reaching end of tape], bye-bye!

-January 14, 1964

Such an honor to be Mrs. Paul Galvin. I must always conduct myself as a lady, as Paul would want me to be. It's a simple code, really. I want to live that kind of a dedicated life. I had a strong feeling about that in church today. I was so glad to be back in church. I want to go every morning during Lent. Paul was the guiding light in all our lives; we should thank God that a saint like that is looking over us and continuing to guide us. I even ask him before I ask God and our Blessed Mother. I can't imagine Paul's equal ever coming into my life again, but with all my restless energy, I can't just sink into a rocker.

-February 1, 1964

In this new year, on my own, I will find that there isn't a stigma to loneliness. [After going into downtown Chicago for business meetings, having lunch at the Chicago Athletic Club by herself, reading the Wall Street Journal, and finding she enjoyed the peace and tranquility of her solo luncheon.]

-February 6, 1964

How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying- saw the musical in Chicago, loved it, could see it again. Dinner at the Blackhawk, show at the Schubert, would love to share with Carol and Paul. Discussed matter of Jack [Kemmer] on the way home with Ray [Harkrider], how I didn't want to hurt Jack. I now know I can count on him [Ray] to be my escort this summer. With Jack, things only go up to a certain point, and though I don't want to be emotionally involved with anybody right now, I don't want to hang out with a bunch of widows either. I'm too proud for that!

-February 10, 1964


   


 
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