The Life of Virginia Galvin Piper

I remember one day when Virginia, having just met with her attorney, Jim Bruner, now one of our lifetime trustees, telephoned me. She said, “I had a meeting with Jim today, and do you have any idea what the size of this estate is?” “No,” I answered. “It's half a B!” she whispered. That was so typical of Virginia, to not even want to say that out loud, to just whisper it.

The last time I saw Virginia, I took some papers to be signed over to her house. She was sitting in her chair, on oxygen, and her sister, Carol, was there. After she signed the papers, she looked up at me and said, “You know, I've tried to do my best, in managing all of this. I hope Paul will be pleased.” She died ten days later.

As one of several family relatives, my portrait of Virginia captures an enchanting fifty-three years with her as my aunt, friend, teacher, and exquisite example of a philanthropic-spirited human being with such remarkable individual distinction.

Virginia's letters to me in times of many family tragedies and many family joys always carried with them her message of hope, courage, fortitude, loyalty and above all, love.

When we would gather together in her home for special times, parties, or family meetings, these were times of laughter, historical review of our forefather's achievements, and just plain old-fashioned fun complete with singing harmony together around the piano.

Decisive action, solving problems together or having a blessed holiday or birthday occasion, in her was the "Rock of Gibraltar," a constancy that we all looked up to. Virginia was a primary "Key" to our understanding that all things can be accomplished through prayer, decisive work, perseverance, and teamwork.

I was fortunate in many ways, among them, my opportunity to know Paul Galvin and to work for Ken Piper at Motorola. I remember their strength of character and how they would always provide "uplifting" and comfort for Virginia and for the rest of our family.

It's important to share with others that we, as Virginia's appointed lifetime trustees, and current and future term trustees, are really the third generation of stewards to watch over what Paul V. Galvin began and Virginia continued to do so admirably and well from 1959 to 1999, a remarkable forty years.

We remember with great respect the founding—spirited work, innovation, and technological achievements of our parent corporation funder, Motorola, Inc. The Galvin family members and employees who have guided the growth and development of the company for seventy-five years are an inspiration to all of us and still to this day are providing loyalty to Virginia. What a blessing, indeed.

As our author, Melissa Pritchard, has pointed out so beautifully in her dedication page in the front of our biography, we do continue to feel the strength of Virginia, her grandmother, Cora Higley, and Virginia's husbands, Paul V. Galvin and Kenneth M. Piper.

The lifetime trustee experience of governance, responsibility, and loyalty truly is an "Appointed Gift" in itself, one that carries with it an enormous opportunity to help others, to grow healthy families, and to innovate stronger communities. In our offices and in our meetings, we feel Virginia's presence with each day and with each decision.

Virginia indeed would be pleased to meet our staff and to see in action our truly creative and well-balanced trust, the leadership skills each and every trustee brings to our projects. It's our hope to continue Virginia's philanthropic journey into many life-enhancing years ahead.

For over twenty years, my husband Bob and I were good neighbors with Virginia. Bob was her "handyman." She would call him if something went wrong at the house. We lived across the street and really didn't know, at first, who she was, other than our neighbor. If she needed something, we were there. She kept her place meticulous. A gardener was there every day or every other day, keeping her flowers up to date with the seasons. During our first introduction to Mrs. Piper, our English sheepdog went charging through her house, over all that beautiful white carpeting, and she just laughed.

My kids used to love to play in Mrs. Piper's arroyo. It had a little bridge they loved. Our daughter, Catherine, would go over to pick Mrs. Piper's flowers and then set up a flower stand, and Mrs. Piper would come along and buy some of her own flowers.

We used to have neighborhood parties, and Virginia always came. She was very soft-spoken, gracious, a great listener, and would never, ever, ever mention the money she gave. She was simply our neighbor, a very fun lady.

The relationship with one's hairdresser is very special. I used to see Virginia sometimes twice a week, to give her perms, just the right haircut. She was interested in people, all kinds of people. It didn't matter whether they had money.

One time, on her way to my salon in Scottsdale, Virginia had a minor accident on Tatum and McDonald. She got to the salon and said, "I'm not going to get that car fixed; I'm just going to get another one." I said, "So why don't you get a Rolls-Royce?" She looked at me and said, "Oh now, what would I do with that? I wouldn't want that."

Virginia used to tell her sister, Carol, that going to the hairdresser's was her favorite thing to do. At the salon she could relax, get more beautiful, have M&Ms, and just be herself, not the Virginia Piper icon. When she was getting very ill, we knew she was coming to the end, but we didn't know how long she had. Still, she always had to have perfect hair and perfect make-up. So I would always come to the house, toward the end, to do her hair.

I took care of Virginia for many years, as well as her parents Ken and Dearie. Later, I also took care of Ken Piper. When my wife, Pat, and I moved to Arizona in 1961, Scottsdale was a much smaller place. We felt like we were all family, very close, very personal in our relationship with the family.

Virginia was one of the thriftiest yet most generous people I've ever known. In her personal life, she literally saved everything, an influence from her poorer, simpler childhood. When she came to my office, she would wait out in the waiting room along with everyone else for an hour or more and never once complained. I'm frankly surprised now when I see everything with her name on it; it doesn't fit with the Virginia I knew. It's not her. She made a distinction between her private self and what she did publicly.

Virginia had a lot of character from her rock-solid upbringing. She was not a controller and never tried to lead anybody else's life. She had a tremendous devotion to her parents. Virginia was a woman who lived in many generations; that is, she was old-fashioned in many ways: she loved music from the '20s and '30s, was a friend of Wayne King (the saxophonist), had Victorian ideas, and the decor in her home was sort of French Versailles. She just wasn't locked into any particular era.

Virginia Piper was a complex woman. She was required each year to give away a certain amount of money, and she was as dedicated to her profession as I am to mine, and by God, she was going to do it better than anyone else. She would not be happy to be called rich. She didn't see herself as rich. She was a steward of Paul's money; that was her job. She was honest and had a strong radar for dishonesty. I liked Virginia a lot.

Virginia passed away on my birthday, June 14. I had seen her the previous day when she was in bed at home, not talking. My dad, Paul Critchfield, his wife Claudia, and Carol, my grandmother "Mimi," were all there, and a couple of nurses were in the kitchen. I held her hand and talked to her, telling her everything was fine, that we were all there with her. I remember telling her I would look after Mimi (Carol) for her. I knew, driving home, that she would die on my birthday, that she would be my angel. At her public memorial service on June 18 at St. Francis Xavier, the Phoenix Boys Choir sang for her, the Phoenix Symphony Trio played, and with all the people there, it was clear that no one was present out of duty but because they wanted to be there for her.

Virginia deferred her own needs for the needs of others. I know she spent hours and hours a day at her desk, either in correspondence or on the phone. She was a phenomenal writer, one of those people who automatically make you feel like you are the most important person in the world. At her desk, she had a bajillion thank-you notes from all the young people she put through college or medical school. They'd correspond with her throughout their lives, send pictures of their children, etc. I really doubt she shared or catalogued all the young people she helped in her lifetime. That's how Gin most liked to give, silently. Off the public record. I think she might be uncomfortable to see her name now. I believe she preferred the quiet gift of compassion for others as well as for the community. She preferred the invisible gift.

Most people love talking about themselves, but not Virginia. I saw Virginia for five years on a weekly basis, every Sunday, from 1994 until her death in June 1999, and I was never able to completely figure her out. She was so elusive in her simplicity, in her style of faith. When it came to making decisions about gifts, philanthropy, Virginia always asked Paul Galvin, spiritually, to help her make the right decision. Always. He was with her from the beginning, and he was with her until the very end. She knew it and trusted it; part of her faith experience was Paul Galvin. He really was her guardian angel.

In her house, the cats all slept on the dining room table next to a big glass Steuben cat. Her office was small and personal, but it was sacrosanct, that office. She did all her work there, but we were always in the kitchen. That was her place; she loved it there. I was much more comfortable with her as a person than as a priest. We were just good, close friends. Bishop O'Brien was really the official priest in her life.

The last five years her life changed dramatically because of her health, and she began to speak of her grandmother and Paul Galvin constantly. You mentioned Virginia Piper, and all people thought about was money. That was not her real world, however; inside Virginia, there was a gentle, innocent girl. She played the role of Mrs. Paul V. Galvin, of Mrs. Kenneth Piper, and then of Virginia G. Piper sublimely, magnificently, and to some degree, I'm sure she enjoyed it. But so constantly it was tedious and awful, too; she was always booked for something. And what I found so curious, after a life like that, is that her last years were lived alone, except for her sister Carol, a few close friends, and her immediate family. She was bound by being childless and widowed. And when she couldn't be the perfect image people expected, she withdrew.

I truly grew to love Virginia and to this day I miss her.

I worked as Mrs. Piper's housekeeper for eleven years, from 1988 to 1999. Before she became ill, she liked to go shopping at Fashion Square or in the little Main Street shops in Scottsdale, to go out for ice cream at the Sugar Bowl. I remember her favorite flavor was peppermint.

We were like sisters, and before the nurses came, if she was unwell, I'd stay over many nights so she wouldn't be alone. To me it was a privilege to know her. We always decorated at Christmas and had a Christmas party for all the help. Julio was her handyman, and he and his wife would always be there. People were very, very loyal to Mrs. Piper. It didn't matter what you got Mrs. Piper; she would be thrilled with it, with the thought of the gift.

The last two years of Mrs. Piper's life were the hardest. I would get to her house around seven in the morning and make her breakfast, always oatmeal or a blender drink. I would bring clothes from Nordstrom for her to try on. Sister Ann Ida would fly out from Chicago twice a year to visit, Father Frank came on Sundays, and other nuns used to come and visit, all very, very nice. The most important thing I can say about Mrs. Piper is that I put her in the same category as my mother. I don't think I have ever met anyone who had such dignity. Mrs. Piper was elegant. She was a loving, caring woman. Just marvelous.

Sitting with Virginia at the kitchen table, the last four or five years of her life it was always the kitchen table, she'd say, "I've been praying to Paul today," or "Paul will help me with this." I always found their relationship, Paul and Virginia's, fascinating. They married back in the '40s, and she remarried Ken Piper, but she always had this strong relationship with Paul, going back to the earliest times in their marriage, when he would kneel at their bedside at night and pray.

We had a bond, neither of us had children, and we shared our fears and concerns about not being parents. Virginia always looked at the positive side. She'd say, "I have my sister, companions, you, and Paul." But children were very important to Virginia.

Her charity work was distinct because it was God-centered and from the heart. She was no one's fool. She was an intelligent, shrewd woman and always pulled away from dishonesty or wrongdoing. When she gave to a charity, she looked at the people running it, asking how long they were going to be there. If she was angry with someone, there was a valid reason for it. Toward the end of Virginia's life, I prayed the rosary with her. This is the part of Virginia I knew best, praying with her, witnessing her faith.

After Ken died in 1975, Virginia's loneliness was devastating. We began to correspond more and talk on the phone. She began to travel to Chicago and stay with Nell Hubata in Wilmette. I would pick her up at the airport, and during one trip, Virginia invited Dayton and I to come out and spend a long weekend in Arizona.

Virginia was a night owl beyond belief; she liked to stay up late. So during the three nights we were there that first visit, she and I sat in her office until 2:30 or 3:30 a.m., with Virginia just pouring out her thoughts, her loneliness, her missing Ken, her love of Paul Galvin. We bonded through the unburdening, the comfort Virginia took in confiding in me. From that point on, we talked on a daily basis, and in June 1976, Dayton and I moved to Arizona.

For Virginia to trust someone was a major thing. She was wary of people and you had to prove to her you loved her for herself and not for her money. I became her confidante and she knew I would never violate that trust. The more I got to know her, the more I got to know the all-expansive, wonderful, perfect person she was. I also got to know the Virginia who could get mad as a hornet, bang her fist on the table, saying, "No, I will not do that." I got to know all sides of her.

If there is any message I'd like to impart about Virginia, it's to say how real she was. She was not this ethereal being, an angel floating above everything. She was a real person with real depth and real character. She had more determination than anyone I ever met. She worked. She got involved in every project and would make her strong opinion known. She was not a pushover. She would hold to her vision, and people would respect her for it. She kept up with the world of finance and became perfectly brilliant, a woman who could hold her own with the men financially. So while she was shy, modest, even retiring about herself, she was also incredibly dynamic in her philanthropic presence.

Perhaps her greatest choice was to anticipate what the future would hold and to realize that she wasn't going to be around forever. For me, the privilege of being named one of the Lifetime Trustees of the Piper Trust is the greatest privilege I could have ever received.

I grew up in Chicago with my parents, Laura and Dayton Grafman. I was in high school when I first had the pleasure of meeting Virginia. I was attending a Van Cliburn concert and was introduced to this amazing woman. I was about fifteen years old at the time and I remember being taken by her beauty and her regal look. She exuded such warmth, kindness, thoughtfulness, and generosity and at the same time seemed so down-to-earth. After I moved to Arizona years later, my relationship grew with Virginia and she became a mentor to me.

I had been the vice president of a publishing company, Timed Resources, Inc., where I was the cocreator and coauthor of several books. They included Active Senior Living, The Senior Care Center Guide and Career Choices and Opportunities. We also had a nationwide magazine for kids appropriately called the Children's Magazine. I not only cowrote these books but was responsible for all the marketing, promotions, publicity and editing. Virginia used to love to hear about my work, and we got into a routine where I would call her about eight o'clock each evening, and we would talk about the day. She enjoyed the update on what successes I had since we last spoke. She basically wanted to know everything, all about the cultivation I did with our corporate sponsors and advertisers. And she loved to live vicariously through me and hear about all of my dates, boyfriends, and relationships. We had so many great talks and laughs throughout the years. These are some of the most wonderful things I remember about my times with Virginia.

My own grandparents passed away when I was fifteen, sixteen, and eighteen, so Virginia played a huge role in my life and liked to consider herself an "aunt" to me, definitely not a "grandmother"! Her public image was that of a celebrity in so many people's eyes, but she was so approachable and likeable, someone you could really enjoy and be close to. One of her favorite things to do was to have dinner at my parents' house at their kitchen table. How simple for such a superstar. An extraordinary woman? Most definitely. A sweet, warm, and dedicated friend, role model, and mentor? You bet! It was an honor and privilege to have known this lovely and amazing lady.

My relationship with Virginia began when I still had my video business, and I loved to do public service work whenever possible. I met a woman, Eileen Szychowski, a quadriplegic, who had started a therapeutic riding course for physically handicapped individuals and dreamed of having her own place to teach more students. There was a fourteen-and-a-half-acre piece of land called Camelot Ranch on Jomax Road that she wanted to buy for her place. I'd made a little video about her to help with fundraising, and since I knew Virginia, I asked if she'd be interested in seeing the video. Virginia found it interesting, so I invited her to have lunch with Eileen and me. This was in 1993 or 1994.

Eileen was late for lunch, and when she finally arrived, there was a great blue macaw perched on her shoulder. Virginia was absolutely captivated by the bird, which Eileen had placed on Virginia's arm and then on the perch she'd brought for it while we had our lunch. Virginia just couldn't get over the bird's good manners. Also, my wife Jane and I had a golden retriever named Nellie, an extremely well-trained, mellow retriever. So between the macaw and Nellie, Virginia said, "You know, I don't often meet animals so well-behaved. I have a couple of cats, plus some strays I've taken in, and they're good, but they just have the run of the house." After that lunch, Virginia made a contribution to Camelot Ranch, enabling Eileen to buy the land she needed.

Later, when Jane and I were living in Colorado, I wrote to Virginia, thanking her for the gift to Camelot, and she wrote back, asking me to say hello for her to our lovely golden retriever, Nellie. Okay, Nellie, I thought. You've been recognized by Virginia; you should be writing back. So we began sending letters to Virginia from Nellie, signed "Your obedient friend, Nellie" with a paw print. Virginia would write back, telling Nellie how she had been and how her cats were behaving. These letters went back and forth for quite a while, and Paul Critchfield later shared with me how much Virginia had enjoyed her correspondence with Nellie and how she would read the letters aloud to the rest of the family. Virginia's tremendous appreciation for and love of animals and allowing herself a little silliness was just heartwarming.

I knew Virginia before 1940. We were both born in 1911. I became Gin's hairstylist and confidante, long before Paul passed away.

When I had my shop in Milwaukee, Virginia, her sister, Carol, and Charlotte Pollari used to take the train up to have their hair done. Then Virginia would take us out to Frenchie's for lunch, a very exclusive place that had the best lobster salad.

Virginia didn't worry us about her losses; she put that in God's hands. That's how I think she managed so well.

Virginia is the most beautiful woman I've ever met. The men liked her, the girls liked her, everyone loved her, and I loved to watch how she would always make people feel so wonderful.

Virginia enriched my life. She was beautiful inside as well as out.

Virginia was an inspiration. She had the most beautiful way of writing and saying things. I still treasure her notes. She reached out all the time and had so many interests but so little staffing. She did everything herself. She was a special lady, elegant and generous.

I was twenty-five years old when I first met Virginia in 1975. I was working at Scottsdale Osborn Memorial ER. Her husband, Ken, had just passed away. He had died of a heart attack in their kitchen, and Virginia hadn't known what to do. It frustrated her, so she decided to take a CPR class that was open to the public. I had never met her until I was teaching that course; unfortunately, she didn't pass the course. The hospital administrator phoned me and asked, "What are you doing? Do you know who this lady is?" I said, "No, but she didn't pass the course." Virginia phoned a short time later and said I'd given her everything she'd needed and thanked me. Shortly thereafter, I got a very nice note, thanking me again and wanting to stay in touch, which she did from that day on. Virginia extended herself so that she could find something good in everybody. She made friends out of people you'd never expect.

The cost of medical school was tough, and I'd gotten as many loans as possible, but the cost was still pretty significant. I had two kids and a wife. I went to Virginia to ask about getting a loan from her for school. We talked a short time, and she said she'd like to help. She ended up giving me the money in the form of a scholarship, even though she really didn't know me from Adam. She gave me one check per year for four years.

Virginia had a lot to do financially with Scottsdale Memorial, and most of her medical care, her allegiances, was based there. But whenever she got really sick, she would often call to ask for my opinion. I did many home visits over a ten-year period. Virginia never liked medication, no matter what the reason; she had a hard time taking it. She was highly independent, so any indication she was not in control was tough for her.

I was her attending physician when she died. That young man she had once believed in and supported through medical school,the CPR instructor who failed her in the course,was with her at the end as her attending physician. It had come full circle. I was proud to know her, comfort her, and be her friend. I still think about her often, and her kindness and legend lives on, in part through me.