In October 2018, I wrote a story about Doreen Evans Phipps Boyer. Doreen married Jock’s Uncle George, an eccentric, feisty man pickled in gin. George and Wince, Jock’s father, both lived at the Ranch in the last years of their life, and they fought like cats and dogs…and rabid raccoons. The bright spot Jock remembers about George was always Doreen.
After the blog was published, we began to receive emails asking if we knew more about this remarkable woman. We received emails from as far away as New Zealand from a man who is an MG racing car enthusiast. We added a few bits of information but not much about her personal life between her last race and ending up at our Ranch.
In August of this year, we received an email from Graham Phipps, Doreen’s son. A distant relative of his from Australia sent him the blog I wrote in October of the prior year. Graham “googled” us…because isn’t that what you do?
Graham wrote, “I am so happy that the Ranch is still in the family. I have many memories of my stay there with my mother.”
After several emails back and forth, we were finally able to reserve a date for a visit to the Ranch. It had been decades since Graham had been here. Graham and his wife Carol spent a few days with us late in August, and he shared so many beautiful stories about his mother.
One of the questions which always nagged at me was why there was no mention of her divorce. What was her life like after divorce? Marrying into a wealthy American family as a Brit had its pitfalls, and according to Graham, she never entirely fit in with the Phipps family. Still, to me, I envision a larger than life woman, decades ahead of her time, who just refused to follow protocol. I know why I loved her from the first photo of her I saw. She was behind the wheel of her race car. That was who she was….different.
Jock’s cousins Tito and Don also spent time with Graham and Carol, and looking through all the old photo albums brought her to life. What I wouldn’t give for an afternoon with her! I still have so many unanswered questions.
This November, we received an update from Geoff Broadhead in New Zealand. He and Carol had gone to Auckland, New Zealand, to visit the Southward Museum. This museum has Doreen’s former race cars, her MGs.
In September, I received an email from Catriona Erler, a friend of George and Doreen’s. She too had seen the blog and reached out to tell her story of Doreen. She gave me permission to share:
I knew George and Doreen in La Jolla, and stayed once at the Ranch in 1980, I think, as the guest of my mother and stepfather, Joe and Susannah Haber. My mother was a close friend of the Boyers before she met my stepfather. For many years before she married Joe, she would stay in a sheep wagon at the Ranch as George’s and Doreen’s guest.
I remember they told me about rounding up all the cats for the drive from La Jolla to Savery each spring and back again in the fall, putting several together in gunny sacks so they could keep each other company. Apparently, the cats were relatively comfortable and happy with the arrangements.
I also remember Voltaire, the goose George hatched from an egg that had washed out of the nest after the river ran high and flooded the nest. Voltaire was devoted to George, and my mother had photographs of George running along flapping his arms to show Voltaire how to fly. There also was the time a raccoon got into the kitchen were Voltaire stayed at night. The clattering of pots and pans alerted George and Doreen to the crisis, and they got there in time to rescue Voltaire, but not before he got a scratch across the side of his face. The scar remained, giving him a distinctive look and making it impossible to confuse him with any other goose.
As a valued member of their family, George and Doreen brought Voltaire back to La Jolla for the winter, and there George would take him for long walks through the neighborhood and along the beach. One day Voltaire disappeared. George called the police, and they put out an All Points Bulletin to find him. Voltaire was found and brought home. Eventually, they decided he’d be happier living at the duck pond at La Jolla Beach and Tennis Club. The pond was located along the drive into the club, and whenever Voltaire heard their car, he’d run to greet them. I would take friends to visit him too.
I remember many a happy Saturday morning having leisurely brunches on the George’s and Doreen’s patio. There was always lots of laughter and witty conversation.
George called me early in the morning the day Doreen died. I went straight over and spent several hours with him and Doreen’s children, remembering her and sharing our stories.
Doreen was one of the least pretentious people I knew, full of fun, open and friendly, and always ready for a party. Although I know George’s eyes wandered (he propositioned both my mother and me – unsuccessfully), he adored Doreen, and she adored him.
Thanks for the opportunity to revisit my memories of George and Doreen.
Thank you to all the people who have helped bring Doreen to life for me. There are times when you only have to look at a photo to know how special a person was to this world and to the people in it, someone whose legacy remains.
Still would love to sit on the porch for a sundowner with you, Doreen. You are missed.
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