I can’t do enough justice or write enough accolades about my friend Margo’s wonderful life. All I can write is a bit about my own personal experience.
I had been coming to Thomasville, GA for several years and always wanted to make it a point to go tour Pebble Hill Plantation. I didn't know much about it, but heard that the place was pretty impressive.
I also wanted to get back into painting; something I gave up for about 10 years and only dabbled in it. In the back of my mind I thought that I'd do one of my first new paintings for my friend Sallie Sullivan, as a thank you for allowing me to stay and visit her at her Borderline Plantation. I painted her lab Beast, and mailed it to Sallie, and Beast became the first of many paintings that I would subsequently complete over the next eight years.
Shortly after painting Beast, I decided to carry a bunch of photos of some of my paintings done several years before, just to sort of make it my coming out party so to speak - and it was at a dinner party that I showed off the photos of my paintings to the hosts Rebecca and Jack Allen, and then to Margo Bindhardt.
I didn't know Margo very well then, I just knew I liked her a lot. I knew immediately and instinctively that she was a super-nice lady, and if you saw her without a smile or a gleam in her eye, it would be extremely rare. She was the only person I knew who had a smile in her eye whenever she seldom frowned.
I had been to her home a few times, but it was at Jack and Rebecca's home that I decided to show off my paintings to Margo - knowing that she had a lot to do with the prestigious Plantation Wildlife Arts Festival. I thought to myself that maybe I could get an "in" in someway - or at the very least a little attention should I decide to formally apply for the show.
The Plantation Arts Festival was the brainchild of Margo and Bob Crozer, and to get invited to the show meant you exhibited with some of the best wildlife artists in the country.
Margo looked at my photos and simply said, "You're in."
Thus launched my new career from dog food salesman to commissioned portrait artist and owner of Sporting Artisans.
At a party just before my first festival, I was formally introduced to the ‘art collecting’ world by Margo's husband Klaus. Klaus is a character and a favorite because he always makes it a point to stand up and speak during desert - entertaining the group with some long drawn out story with an ultimate moral that left you scratching your head and laughing at the same time. On this evening, Klaus introduced himself as my new "agent." Klaus then proceeded to illustrate to the group my talents and that he would be getting future royalties from my artwork in years to come. This was all funny but also a big deal to me. I just had the Chairman's husband laud my work in front of very respected and accomplished people. I was also endeared to Klaus, and from then on, whenever talking to Margo, I would tell her to tell my agent hello and that I would be sending him the money.
About a year later, I finally was able to tour Pebble Hill. I bought my ticket, got into line and was ushered around the mansion. In the stable, there is a room that shows off the history, photos and family tree of Pebble Hill's former owner Pansy Poe. As I waited for the tour to begin, I noticed that most of the people I knew in Thomasville were in that tree, including Sallie and Margo. Later, as I was taking the tour, in the foyer, I spotted Klaus and Margo giving a private tour to someone, and it was then that I figured Margo had a lot more to do with Pebble Hill than I ever realized.
In fact, Margo basically "ran" Pebble Hill. She was a favorite of Pansy Poe, which is not at all hard to understand, and in one of the rooms is a painting of Margo over a fireplace. But what caught my eye was a small black and white photo showing Margo in what I believe was her "coming out" party on the steps in the foyer with her mother Louise Humphrey. That photo – probably taken in the early 1960's made me just wish that I could have experienced a little of what it must have been like in the glorious golden days of plantation life in the south. But mostly, I was excited about seeing Margo at that age, realizing age had not diminished her beauty one bit.
Three years later, I would find myself actually living in Thomasville, GA. My wife Lori and the kids were to come down later. So I needed a place to live. Knowing that Pebble Hill occasionally had cabins or houses on the grounds for rent, I asked Margo if anything was available. The two-room house at the gate would be too small, but Margo was not deterred. Margo then ordered the abandoned overflow cottage (5 bedrooms, three fireplaces) situated about 200 feet from the main house to be totally renovated for our eventual occupancy. Margo told me, "Your kids will love it here. In fact, below the main house the basement is quite long, and I'll open it so your kids can ride their bikes down there."
Pebble Hill is immaculately kept spotless and perfect for tours, wedding parties, hunts and festivals. The main house is full of priceless treasures, and the grounds feature mazes, walkways, and even a private cemetery where Pansy and her relatives are buried. We would be living in a fish bowl, but the view from the porch would be of an enclosed brick garden, all our yard work would be taken care of, and the place was safe because you had to enter through a guarded gate to get to the grounds.
It was to turn out to be too good to be true, and circumstances did not allow our family to move into the overflow cottage. She was not at all upset when I told her we couldn’t move in after so much work had been done to the cottage. She was as gracious and concerned about my welfare as ever.
I am forever grateful for Margo's generosity. I was able to spend more time with her over the next several months, but she was to develop ovarian cancer which was a blow to all the artists, all who knew her, and of course myself. Margo though, was a fighter, She launched into an attack on the illness and we all believed she'd win, though the odds were against her. Margo was from a line of Irish immigrants who made it big because they were fighters.
Today I got word that Margo lost her battle. Last November, at a party, I walked by her and didn't recognize her at first - she was wearing a turban and was more frail than usual. But still smiling. After dinner, I gave her two t-shirts featuring the painting I did of "her girls" and then gave her a hug. The hug was a long one and I didn't let go until she let go. I knew I would not see her again after the show ended.
I am grateful and thankful for getting to be a small part of Margo’s great and wonderful life. It will forever for me be an honor and a pleasure to spend time with such a fine, refined lady.
I am sure I can speak for the artists at the Plantation Arts festival and say that she was the heart, soul and mind of it, and when she wasn’t there, we noticed it. We talked about it. Where’s Margo? How is she doing? When will she be back? We knew that she was the driving force, but we also all loved her because she was the smiling, generous, beautiful, and wonderful Margo Bindhardt.
I will not remember how frail Margo was. I will only remember the drop dead beautiful 67-year old woman and young drop-dead beautiful blond girl standing on the steps at Pebble Hill in the early 60’s. What a time that must have been.
And what a lady she was.
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