"There is no friend like an old friend who has shared our morning days, no greeting like his welcome, no homage like his praise."
---Oliver Wendall Holmes, Sr.
Reflecting on the life of my friend and former dance teacher, I didn't ponder long. Dance like there's no tomorrow. This is the line that, for me, best summarizes the being of Mary Anna Hartzog Stagg, fondly known as Miss Molly. In the studio adjacent to her lovely home, just off Highway 10 in Bogalusa, she taught my pals and me dance back in the 1970s. While surely there were more - Miss Molly had students galore - I only recollect four of us carpooling from Franklinton: Vanda Simmons, Angela Johnson, Marilyn McMillan, and me. Digressing, our dance lessons originated with the Haffners who traveled from New Orleans once a week to teach us ballet and tap at Franklinton Elementary School. We then progressed to Miss Molly who taught us both dancing and tumbling.
I opine that all of her students regarded her with affection. And, while dance was never my forte, I was chief among them. I thought that Miss Molly was fantastic - she was nonpareil. Resolute, she encouraged and worked with each of us as individuals, and not once did I feel subpar, which I was at dance. Miss Molly nurtured and inspired and instilled certitude of self.
So, it didn't surprise me when just a few, short years ago I heard her voice. As he is prone to do, my husband Rodney asked me to listen to a recording at our farmhouse where the phone number is my parents' original, dating to at least the 1950s. Rodney keeps an old-fashioned, antiquated answering machine there, and he ardently plays back each and every message - the value of everyday pleasures. All these years later, they keep coming, old friends looking for my parents and me.
On this particular sultry summer evening in 2016, my better half announced, "It's a lady by the name of Molly." My heart skipped a beat. Sure enough, as I live and breathe, Miss Molly's voice resounded. She was kindly calling my mother, not knowing that she was deceased, to let her know that she had read my newspaper column, with great enthusiasm. If you knew Miss Molly, you know that she did everything with zest. Verbatim, the message: "Hey Mrs. Ellzey, this is a voice out of your past. This is Molly Hartzog. Your daughter took dancing from me for years and years. I don't have a way of getting hold of her, but I wanted to tell her how much I enjoy her articles especially the one about Mr. Curt Thomas that I just read. I hope you're well, and I hope you're happy. Please tell her hello from Miss Molly." A tide of memories. Felicity, all around.
A native of Amite, Molly was the daughter of Roy and Anna Purser Watson. She was born the twin of Sarah Elizabeth "Sally" Watson (Pendergast) on July 27, 1943. After graduation from Amite High School, Molly attended Southeastern Louisiana University where she became acquainted with Seymon Hartzog of Bogalusa. After the couple married, they settled in the Magic City where Molly didn't miss a beat, becoming mired in the community. She was active in the Eastern Star, First Presbyterian Church of Bogalusa, several social clubs, and philanthropy.
While I knew Miss Molly was a college majorette and a beauty queen - she was a Southern belle if there ever was one - I did not know that she was a championship barrel racer and a bull rider. Rarely do I read an obituary and not learn something astonishing. But I really wasn't surprised. Miss Molly lived life to its fullest, seeking adventure and excelling at whatever she tried her hand. It was Emily Dickinson who wrote, "Fortune befriends the bold."
Real estate was another of Miss Molly's bailiwicks; she was a successful realtor. A people person, she never met a stranger. She was always kind and affable. If you knew Miss Molly, you would agree - she sparkled, with charm.
Losing her husband in 1996 and her youngest son Preston Scott in 2006, Molly's life wasn't without hardship, but her faith saw her through. While I didn't know Preston Scott, I grew up with her son Windy and daughter Anna Beth who, of course, married actor John Goodman. Anna Beth was knee high to a grasshopper when we took dance with Miss Molly, and to our great delight, she would join us in the studio near the end of class.
It was at her shop on Magazine Street in New Orleans, just a couple years ago, that Vanda and I scampered in, leaving our former dance teacher a fond handwritten note of remembrance. Giggling like school girls, we took our time getting each word just right, for Miss Molly. Over all the intervening years, our admiration of her never waned.
With a new lease on life, Molly married Rev. Philip Stagg with whom she lived in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, after his retirement and also in New Orleans. But she departed this life all too soon, in June of this year, leaving to treasure her memory son Seymon "Windy" (Pam) Hartzog and daughter Anna Beth (John) Goodman; stepchildren David (Andie) Stagg and Anneke Stagg; grandchildren Molly Evangeline Benda, Dixie Camille Hartzog, and Abigail Grace Hartzog; and step-grandchildren Elliott Stagg and Griffin Stagg.
With much grace, Miss Molly left an indelible impression on all who were blessed to know her. I count myself lucky to have been in that number. Thanks to Rodney, I can still hear her voice.
