A Gift to Jo From Toot - A Large Ellie Bogardus Painting

I wish I were (was) the Butcher's Cat

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas. O Henry - The Gift of the Magi

Mom was the huge Bogardus fan, and bought all but the large painting, which was an extremely surprising xmas gift to mom. As teachers, it was stretched their budget. 

How can you pass on this kind of a story - another Ellie Bogardus painting, on top of that, details about a collector family who were friends with the artist. Think of them as a nuclear family along with familial extensions who could be interviewed by an art curator for a magazine story, or have their own television reality series on Public Television.

The collectors' daughter originally contacted me about the family art pieces, and passed on choice bits of information about her family, and the acquisition of their paintings. The picture shown above has kind of a Magi story of its own:  

Dad bought the larger Bogardus for mom one Christmas in the early 1980s.  I remember he hung it up in the dining room, and on Christmas morning we blindfolded mom and led her down the hall for the great unveiling.  I have no idea how he snuck it into the house and managed to hang it without her knowledge.  (I know I have the series of photos of mom blindfolded and making her way closer and closer to the painting, and her sheer delight when she saw it - she never thought she'd own it because it was a real splurge for them back then.)  Dad had to saw the legs off the buffet table so the painting could fit exactly in the space between the buffet and the cupboards - you'll see.

There was also information about vacations in Cambria:  

Mom and dad rented the Rosenleib's house across from Ellie's whenever they could, and Bill and Teen (dad's sister) stayed a weekend a year or so with them. All the relatives loved to stay in Cambria, and the Rosenliebs made their house available and affordable to mom and dad. They befriended Ellie and enjoyed her company when they were in town.  I believe they had Ellie and her aunt over for cocktails when they were in town (I hope that's not a memory I accidentally created).

A question about me, and then more family information:

Are you in the Pacific Northwest? That's where mom and dad met. After he passed away in 1985, Teen and Bill got an honorary tile at Pike Place near the fish monger. It's for "Toot." I guess he never shook his nickname!

He came from a family of eight and his grandma called the youngest "Toot" till the next child was born. She passed away before the last child was born, so dad was stuck being "Toot" to his siblings and "Uncle "Toot" to his nieces and nephews.

And the daughter delivered the image of I Wish I Were the Butcher's Cat - a nice picture of the large painting. Now, a few more lines of background information imbedded in our exchange:

Yes, I gathered you had a personal connection to Cambria from your blog (which by the way I enjoyed).  I grew up in Bakersfield, and although dad taught high school (so summers were lean), they took us to Morro Bay as often as possible. As we grew older, we gravitated toward Cambria. Our most recent trip was for a long weekend last Mothers Day.

I'll take photos of the three paintings that are in my old bedroom (probably 12" x 12", maybe a little bigger), as well as the canvas above our stereo (same size) and the large painting over mom's buffet in the dining room.  All I really know is that they acquired the paintings over maybe ten years.  The large painting in the dining room is very much in the style of Matisse (The Shopkeeper's Cat).  I have no sense of size, but I can tell you the painting won't fit in anyone's car.

.... we're moving mom .... to San Diego, where I live. Crating and relocating the larger Bogardus will be an effort, but mom's house won't be her home without it. I love it very much too - she expressed sorrow that if she were gone, no one would want her large painting, and I quickly reassured her and made it clear I adore the painting and will treasure it - happily they'll both come to San Diego!

I'm glad you inadvertently cleared up the mystery of the Bogardus's (and Rosenlieb's) house for us. During the last visit, we drove around Cambria trying to find the homes, but nothing looked familiar. It's too bad the homes were demolished - I loved both of them.  I'm a traditionalist.  How nice for your parents to be able to spend time in their own home...what a lovely little town.  And I hope you're able to spend time there as well.

This is the kind of information that could be turned into a story - maybe even in the style of O. Henry. 
 ___________________________

O. Henry

O. Henry, pseudonym of William Sydney Porter, original name William Sidney Porter was born Sept. 11, 1862 in Greensboro, N.C., and died June 5, 1910 in New York, N.Y. and was an American short-story writer whose tales romanticized the commonplace — in particular the life of ordinary people in New York City. His stories expressed the effect of coincidence on character through humor and often had surprise endings, a device that became identified with his name and cost him critical favor when its vogue had passed. More can be found about O. Henry by clicking here.