Great article by By Bernie Miklasz
Georgia Frontiere loved life, and its adventures, more than anyone I knew. She was a remarkable woman. She was eccentric and colorful and unpredictable and never dull. And what a life. What an improbable and unimaginable life. If you wrote a book about all of her days and nights, people would dismiss it as fiction, except that all of it happened.
No wonder Georgia didn't want to give up, didn't want to leave, didn't want the journey, the escapade, to end. The doctors told Georgia's family months ago that she didn't have much time left, but she battled on with as much toughness as the roughest Rams player.
Two months ago, the doctors told loved ones that her survival was down to an hour-by-hour basis, but she wasn't ready to give up. She outlived the predictions, outlasted the doctors, and extended that wonderful life until finally succumbing to *** cancer Friday at age 80.
"She fought really, really hard," a tearful John Shaw said Friday. The Rams president had a sad feeling that morning. So Shaw visited Frontiere in Los Angeles, just to check on her. A few hours later, the owner of the St. Louis Rams was gone.
And Shaw didn't know what to do.
"I can't believe it," he said. "I knew this was going to happen, but I can't believe it."
What a life. All of the marriages, all the friends, all of the famous pals. Georgia knew the Kennedys. She graciously hosted youngsters John and Caroline Kennedy at a Baltimore Colts game less than a year after their father, JFK, was assassinated. Jackie Kennedy wrote her the sweetest thank-you note. Georgia knew Queen Elizabeth and other members of England's royal family. She hosted parties for Ronald and Nancy Reagan.
She would dine with movie stars and men of letters. She played the piano with Dave Brubeck in the middle of her living room. But before you get the idea that she was pretentious, and A-list conscious, and completely removed from her middle-class upbringing on the west side of St. Louis, I once saw her buy a round of beer and chilled vodka shots for rowdy Rams fans in San Francisco. And she joined them, throwing down the shots with equal fervor. I once saw her lead a rousing sing-along around a piano in a saloon in New Orleans, with her majestic voice filling the place with show tunes, Cole Porter pieces, anything that delighted the crowd.
Georgia Frontiere had great charisma and warmth, and was nothing like I expected her to be. After all of the horror stories in Los Angeles, where she had been reduced to the level of a cartoon character, I fully expected a mean-spirited, heartless diva to show up in St. Louis when the Rams moved here. She was nothing like that.
In the time I spent with her, she was kind and generous with people. She did a lot of things behind the scenes to help various causes; one time she heard that a church in the city needed a roof, and she paid for it. And there were at least a hundred stories like that, stories that never got out.
Born as Georgia Irwin, she brought an NFL team back to her hometown, and after everyone in the league dismissed her as a lightweight, she won the Super Bowl. With perfect timing, she put NFL Commissioner Paul Tagliabue in his place on the victory stand, reminding him of his initial attempts to block the team's move to St. Louis.
"It proves that we did the right thing in going to St. Louis," she said on national TV.
And the next day, the No. 1 Ram led the parade down Market Street, waving to thousands of Rams fans. Glory days, giddy days, Georgia days. Memories of a lifetime. She made it possible.
"I just hope the fans know that I really care, and I've tried my best," Georgia told me during the victory parade.
She wanted to make St. Louis proud, and she succeeded.
And she also extended the hours of a lot of St. Louis restaurants. When you went to dinner with Georgia, two unknown factors were always in play: How late would she be? And who would be in her entourage? It might be someone like the actor Donald O'Connor, who would regale the table with stories on the making of the classic film, "Singing in the Rain." It might be the record executive who discovered Buddy Holly. You never knew. And usually, if dinner was at 9 p.m. you could count on her getting there at 9:45.
Yes, Georgia enjoyed making the grand entrance, but that was part of her charm. It would be appropriate — and I mean this in the most affectionate way — for her memorial service to begin at least one hour late.
Georgia was always worth the wait.
http://www.stltoday.com/stltoday/sports/columnists.nsf/berniemiklasz/story/3342DFDB69A29A67862573D50016E3B5?OpenDocument