Jessica Dunham, Margaret’s Bank Street colleague and friend, was inspired to gather evidence of the amazing mind that lay behind Margaret’s books before that brilliance was forgotten. With the assistance of Dot and Roberta, Jessica wrote to all of Margaret’s publishers and collaborators, asking them to submit anything of Margaret’s they had to the public library in Westerly, Rhode Island. Margaret and Jessica had spent time together picnicking around the picturesque little town, and Jessica thought Margaret would have liked the idea that her work had found a permanent home at the elegant Carnegie library. Editors, illustrators, and publishers willingly complied, turning over dummy books, manuscripts, and a smattering of letters to be housed at the library.
The collection of materials and a full set of Margaret’s publications was dedicated at Westerly in 1957. Louise Seaman Bechtel, who had worked with Margaret at Bank Street, spoke on behalf of many of Margaret’s colleagues, who had contributed letters, manuscripts, and their own memories of their beloved friend. In her remarks, Louise said she was not bringing a formal wreath of roses in honor of Margaret; such a thing would not have been representative of the woman she had known. For Margaret, only wild roses would do because although she had been cultured, she had also been a savage, untamed spirit.
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Leonard Weisgard helped Roberta and Bruce with Margaret’s mess of manuscripts. He also tried to get The Green Wind published, offering to illustrate the massive collection of over two hundred poems Margaret had written. Because some of the works in the collection were held by different publishers and music companies, the task of sorting the rights was declared to be too problematic for the possible financial return.
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Pebble wanted a tattoo of a bunny on his shoulder and asked Leonard to design one. Leonard refused, but Pebble got the tattoo anyway.
Pebble did sail around the world and wrote a memoir of his journey, Man on His Island. In Norway, he met Liv Coucheron Torp, the former wife of Kon-Tiki author Thor Heyerdahl. He fell in love with Liv, who favored Margaret in appearance and spirit.
It is easy to see how Margaret fell for Pebble—his charm and easy laughter fill a room. He spent his life building boats, which was exactly the life he told Margaret he wanted to live. He is a regular visitor to the Only House, which remains in almost the same condition as when Margaret left it. Her pens, paintings, and chairs are scattered around the rooms where she spent her days writing. A visitor feels as if Margaret has merely stepped away—gone off to gather wildflowers or to dig for a bucket of clams on a neighboring island. It was years after Margaret’s death before Pebble could return to this idyllic hideaway. When he did come back, he brought along his wife and their two children, Liv and Stillman. His children grew up hearing the magical stories Margaret had once told their father. They also looked for fairies in the forest.
As Margaret requested in her will, Pebble placed a stone marker in a forest clearing near the Only House and spread her ashes in the sea. Her chosen epitaph, “Writer of Songs and Nonsense,” is carved into the stone. One might argue with her choice of words, for the nonsense she wrote has transported generations of children into the timeless world of stories. She has lifted children from their own little worries into the life of bear or bee or bunny, or into a bed surrounded by soothing green walls, saying good night to the moon. Margaret’s simple wish, to make children laugh, or to jog them with the unexpected and then to comfort them with their own familiar world, has come true millions of times over.
The stone marker is now dotted with bright gold lichen. Pebble also added a quote from The Little Island to the marker and then his own words of gratitude: “You gave us all so much. A chance to love. A place to rest. A window into living.” The marker sits in a small grassy spot surrounded by Margaret’s beloved island forest and the sea just beyond. This was where she found inspiration as she gazed at the wonders of nature around her. A weathered wooden chair near the aging stone bearing her name awaits those who wish to do the same.
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I will let the last words be Margaret’s own. She wrote this in a diary she kept at the time she was falling in love with Michael and contemplating writing a biography of their lives together:
What is biography, what is there to tell beyond the endearing humanity of one on a scale more intense and larger than others? And the significance—aliveness and honesty in their own years. The Gods, the heroes, the man and his devils. All the long-range back and forth in the shuffle and shuttle of being alive. And the preservation of a few of the heights in all the years. For I believe that at five we reach a point not to be achieved again and from which ever after we at best keep and most often go down from. And so at 2 and 13, at 20 & 30 & 21 & 18—each year has the newness of its own awareness to one alive. Alive—and life. That is the significance of this biography, one who has dared to be gloriously good and gloriously bad in one life. No Limbo for her. Rather let life itself grow living monuments out of trees and living words so that death can never take from our half-lives this radiant living that was lived among us.
Acknowledgments
I’m forever grateful to the exceptional team at Flatiron Books, especially Bob Miller, Whitney Frick, and Jasmine Faustino for their encouragement, creativity, and patience. I also wish to thank Don Fehr, my agent at Trident Media Group, for placing this book in their talented hands.
The people I interviewed for this biography often remarked that Margaret had the most beautiful eyes they had ever seen, but differed in their memory on their color. Some said they were blue, others green, but each thought she was the most fascinating person they had ever met. I am grateful to Roberta Rauch, Bruce Bliven, Montgomery Hare, Gratz Brown, and Dorothy Wagstaff Ripley for sharing their stories about Margaret. It was my first and last intention to capture the Margaret they knew and loved.
My deepest gratitude to Jim Rockefeller for sharing part of his life on these pages and for so generously giving me his time. I also want to thank his wife, Marilyn, for her hospitality and persuasiveness in convincing Jim to contribute his eloquent foreword to this book.