Margaret Polk
The decline in the relationship between the couple reached rock bottom in Denver. The date was the night of July 31/August 1 1943. Bob Morgan explains. ‘I’d made a point of calling Margaret from every stop on the tour. In Denver, I picked up the telephone and called her number in Memphis from the hotel suite, where there was already a crew cocktail party going on. As soon as she answered, she was more interested in the background noises. She could hear the girls, the chink of glasses and the girls giggling’. Margaret wanted to know what was going on, and Bob was forced to admit there was a party. According to Morgan, one of the girls there - noticing that he was on the telephone - tried to playfully wrestle the handset away from him, at the same time loudly demanding who he was speaking to. Margaret heard it and was not happy. Words were said, and Margaret told Bob Morgan it was over.
Margaret tells the story of the break-up differently. It seems that there were women around from the moment they touched down at Washington DC. '..Bob was staying out at my house when they came here, and women would call him up. They surely would. I’d put him on the phone. I thought it was some mother or sister asking about some loved one, but half of the time it was women wanting to date him.
I cancelled the engagement on his birthday, July 31. I called him right out in Denver at the Brown Palace Hotel. And some woman answered that phone and something went on that I didn’t particularly like and everything and that was it. But the War Department wouldn’t let me break the engagement’.
‘Captain Tom’ and the War Department was outraged. They were in the middle of a very successful nationwide publicity tour with the centrepiece being the romance between pilot and a willowy girl from Memphis and suddenly they were told it was over. It was a time of war, when Americans hungered for romance and love stories. They needed the romance to take their minds off the conflict and the dying. OVER? It couldn’t be!
The War Department Publicity machine went to work on Margaret, and she agreed to keep the love story alive. She would keep her mouth shut for the time being about the broken romance. Bob Morgan did his share also. He fought desperately to keep alive his romance with Margaret. He sent telegrams, wrote letters and made phone calls. But the story leaked out. The romance with Margaret refused to die. Bob tried to get it back on the rails. Once, on a trip through Memphis, he tried to contact her. There was a flurry of letters and telegrams:
My Dearest Margaret,
I have never really used your first name to any degree, have I? I am not good at writing you anymore either.
Margaret I can’t tell you how much better I feel since I got my speech in. You see I have been carrying that around on my mind and in my heart for two months - it has been hell too. Today was the first chance I have had to tell you to your face. We always promised if anything came between us we would talk it over. I failed you there because I let that hero stuff get me down.
I am Bob Morgan now, the guy who fell in love with you in Walla Walla and who has loved you ever since he went away in June and just got back. I was hoping your love which has led him through combat would be strong enough to take him in your arms and forgive his mistakes and take as your own forever... but darling you can’t see it that way, eh? Maybe my love was the strongest after all.
I owe you everything, my life and all. I have no right to ask you to be big and forgive and forget and be Bob and Margaret Morgan as we planned for so long. I wish you could see death as I did and you’d know what I mean by throwing away happiness as we are doing.
If you change your mind before I go to England in November I’ll be waiting... it is your turn now to swallow your pride .. if you do I’ll stay in the U.S. as we once planned.
forever, yours, Bob
P.S. We all make mistakes....... I have forgiven people .... can’t you?
Obviously they did meet, in Memphis, for Margaret wrote this letter sometime the next week...
Dear Bob,
Oh! The weather is so perfect I just want to go out and play. Whiz! I bet you are out hunting now ... yep! I might well say the lazy way from a car. How about that exercise of the officers (God Bless em) are supposed to take? Come on -- try a few of those new fangled vitamin pills.
Oh! They are playing ‘My Ideal’ on the radio -- they just finished ‘The Dreamer’ a couple of my stop, look, and listens.
Bob, all I can say is what I said Sunday. We are the best of friends. If we can ever get that old feeling -- well time will tell. I have ceased to be surprised with what tomorrow brings. I feel sure everything happens for the best so why worry. Its just too pretty a day to think. Soon ole dreary winter will have the spot light on us. I love the snow but not the rest of the dreary days. Gosh! The weather has been a military secret for so long that I can’t resist talking about it now.
Bob, a little food for thought -- I don’t mean to be treading on your sore spot -- if ever we see ‘eye to eye’ there will be publicity --- how about that?
I received a letter from Jean Ketuz the other day -- (Glenn Adcox’s friends’ wife (Hawk to you). I hadn’t heard from her for a month or so. She said “t’other Hawk” was now walking alone and that Hawk and Glenn were still on the same merry go round. She joins occasionally. Gosh! They all are so nice!
Bebe and I still haven’t tried our hand at golf yet. We will get set one of these days and swing. I hear its good for the figure.
Joke-- why did the little moron wear two pairs of socks to play golf? Oh hush! You don’t know -- answer: He was afraid he might get a hole in one! Now see hyar Chief! If you can’t laugh you could at least chuckle. O.K. thats better.
Remember Jeep? Well she and Tommy were through here the other day on furlough. We all let down our hair and had one for the good ole days --- scotch et al. Fiddle dee dee! Don’t deny it I can see your mouth watering now. How are the whiskey runs?
I just can’t escape the call of my books. Jeep and Tommy stritcly interrupted my learning curricular. So I should give them a loving pat --- the books of course. Oh!! For the life of a co-ed. Don’t work too hard. If ever you can come this way it would be grand to see you for old friends’ sake. You did leave the airport in one piece I presume.
The best of luck always, Margaret
P.S. I’m from MO.
Have you read the Nov. Woman’s Home Companion? Nope, its not meant as an insult. The article on P. 4 ‘Rendevouzs with Heroes’ might be interesting. They are Mac’s group -- perhaps you know some of them.
He poured his heart out in a letter on October 27, while training with the 395th Bomb Squadron at Pratt, Kansas:
‘My dearest Margaret
I hope that you will forgive me for typing this to you, but since it may be the last letter that I will ever have the honor of writing to you, I want a copy of it to put into my scrapbook for my future years if there are any. I must be frank ‘little one’ as we have always been that way except when the public took a tired young man away from you. I love you and never have ceased in the least. Yes, I was blinded by the actions I had to face because I wanted to come back to you. You know the only way I could come home was to be the pilot of a famous bomber. 1 wanted to come home for one good reason, you. We kept our love going, through hell and high water. God gave us life and happiness. I gave you all that. I came home. I am made a hero when all I want is you. I warned you in Memphis that this tour was not to my liking. The public damn near killed me and got me to the point where I wanted to tell all of them where to go. You had told me that at any cost I had a job to do even here in the States. I did it and a damned good job. I made an awful error by blowing up but I couldn’t help it, darling. I needed you and your pride kept you from coming to me. I need you now forever. I need you now more than at any time over Germany. You belong to me and God gave me the strength to come back to you. Why don’t you admit that our love was the love of the year and always will be. This is our last chance, darling, as I can’t take it any more. I can’t even fly a B-17 without looking up for your picture. I can’t even look at my dog tags without looking for your ribbons.You belong to me.
I need you Margaret and I want you to become my wife. I have got to have you now or give up ever thinking of having you. It has got to be now or never. I cannot go on like this. I fought death for you. Sure I let you down, but after all, you needed who? I needed you then. I need you now and have you ever come to me when I really needed you. You know you haven’t. So darling take a good look at yourself and see if your pride was not stronger than your love. If it wasn’t you will say yes (and we will be married quietly). The Colonel says I can have 15 days if I can talk you into it. And he’ll say nothing to anyone. The first the public will know of it will be weeks later. You have to admit one thing darling Margaret. You either will or you wont.
All I ask is for your decision and cut out this Missouri stuff. This is as important to me as your pride was to you. I have a stack of letters from people all over the country saying how sorry they were that you let me down. I took the pains to write to each one and tell them I made the mistake and let you down. But now I am wondering? After all who had been through the strain. Who had fought for their country? Who had loved and been true to their love for nine months? Something that even the married men in the 91st weren’t. I needed you then, I needed you in July and August. I need you now. And if you dont love me any more than to stay away because of pride, then maybe this world isn’t worth fighting for, or at least the things we and the 91st fought for. They gave their lives. I am giving up death when I have to live knowing that you let one letter and one phone call and your pride wipe out happiness.
It is your decision sweet, be careful, dont beat the bush. It is either yes or no. If it is yes (God say yes) LIFE will never get their story if it is no. I might as well end the story and send it on, as they have offered me $800.00 for it.
Good nite, all my love, Bob.
P.S. I would deliver this in person but we only have big planes here. You must make the right move, Bob
The ‘big planes’ reference relates to his B-29 training. It seems also that there was the distinct possibility of Bob Morgan returning to the UK. Margaret’s reply was written in the manner and words of the time. It contains phrases that some in the early 21st century may find offensive, but does however show that the Memphis Belle publicity tour ‘machine’ had reached out and touched even the rural illiterate employees on her family farm!
Dear Bob,
Happy Halloween .. the goblins will get you if...
Here I sit in the midst of downy soft cushions. Did I hear you ask why? As usual I have just returned from the farm ... the horse went one way and I went down and hit rock bottom. Won’t I ever learn? Ok, laugh its worth it.
I received your letter yesterday. Some parts of it just beat the H out of me. So I must make the next move.... well here goes...
I am asking you to come here so we can have a talk. There are a few rough spots. If the Colonel will give you 15 days after you quote ‘talk me into it’ unquote. Surely he would give you a few days to ‘talk me into it’.
Perhaps one of the main difficulties is the fact that we have never been with each other except for a few hours. I do think that we should have another speaking session or a good facsimile.
The negroes on the farm are so funny. One of them asked me how old I was. I swelled up and came out with 20. The negro said, ‘Well I declare Miss Margaret I thought you was 14’. Boy was that a pin prick. You yourself would get a kick out of the negroes. They have our pictures fastened all over their walls. Why! Are they ever proud! They don’t know we broke the engagement because there were no pictures in the paper there. I just kid along with them.
Did you decide to give up going to England in November? If you are still going there is no sense in our breaking our necks. I don’t think you are going because I know how much you want to work with the big planes.
I saw where Major T has been transferred to (military secret, so don’t get really inquisitive). If you see him give him my best. He is really nice!
Bob, do you agree with that old axiom now? You really don’t realize the value of something until you lose it. If it was of any value in the first place it should be worth working for. The days of ‘Pennies from Heaven’ are past.
You say you can’t go on like this. Bob, if we don’t marry I will still be on your mind. I am linked with the most important thing in your life. If we can’t talk things over and recover our old feelings, you will always wonder what it would have been to have been married to me.
Oh! Do you want my opinion? OK, I will save it for future reference! Just as you say, Chief! I am sorry I can’t tell you any more jokes. I don’t get around much anymore. I can see you still have your sense of humor. ... What other okay? .. Cut out that Missouri stuff!!... I guess our future rest in the Col.
I think he will see things our way or he isn’t the man I think he is ...... Something to tuck in bed with you to night. Have you ever tried to reflect yourself in my place? What would you have done or would do now under the existing circumstances? I do hope I will see you soon ......
Sweet dreams, Margaret
P.S. People here are bursting with curiosity as to what we are doing. I thought the four part telegrams
showed that you had lost my address. But I see from your letter your memory hasn’t failed you.
P.P.S. Thanks for the pictures. You look grand. By the way whom are you with? The “Belle” kinda does something to you, doesn’t she?
On November 17, still at Pratt Air Base, Bob wrote what should have been his farewell to the girl he had loved so much.
My dear Margaret
I am sorry I have not written to you sooner in answer to your fine letter, but I have been away for a week and just got back this Monday. I am sure you will understand this.
Yes, I guess I do understand how you felt when you got that letter from me while I was in Denver, but I will never feel that you could have loved me as you said and let us go our ways without doing anything about it. If I could feel that you ever truly loved me, I’d try to win it back. We have been apart now for a long time and the wound is nearly gone and I feel we would open it once again if we tried to start over again.
I hope we will always be friends and that any time I am in Memphis, I will give you a call. I hope you will do the same when you are near wherever I am. I hope I have as much luck this next trip [his next tour of duty] as I did last time. I guess I’m the only member of the 8th Air Force who is crazy enough to go back to combat, but I am fighting for something still.
Good luck Margaret and may our paths cross again soon no matter where. My best to your whole family.
As ever. B’
Then he was gone, back to the wars. Bob Morgan’s marriage to Dorothy Grace Johnson had ended the storybook romance of the Memphis Belle. Bob Morgan liked to tell reporters his version of the ending: I called Margaret at home and said ‘Look, with all this publicity about our love affair I think we ought to just call it quits’.
As we have seen, it was certainly not like that. Even in 1987 when Menno Duerksen wrote ‘Home at Last’ he knew of the true story, and the continuing romance, but bowed under pressure from Bob Morgan to keep it quiet.
Margaret, of course, recalled it differently: 'We wrote each other letters. I think my mother saw to it that we didn’t see each other, like he might have come through and she’d tell him I was over at the farm. I was either at the farm or over at Hot Springs and then I was going to school.'
Except there would be times, during the years that followed, when Margaret’s mother was not around to fend off Bob. There were times when the romance almost came back to life once more. They met again over the years and the old flame was fanned alive again. Margaret liked to remember it, that flaring of the old flame, as proof that their love had not been just another casual weekend affair. It proved, for her, that there was something durable and undying about it, after all. ‘I would have married him at this time if circumstances had permitted it, but circumstances had their way of interfering and it couldn’t happen’.
After the war Margaret trained as an Air Stewardess for American Airlines for a while, flying out of Memphis to Washington DC, New York, Cleveland, El Paso and Texas. ‘I thought I was big stuff, ordering Martinis up in New York, at the Algonquin Hotel, sitting there where all those writers and things used to sit there in the lobby. Then I’d go to a play and fall asleep, and I would not know what was going on’.
Her father, who had spent many years commuting between his farm in Arkansas in the week and his family in Memphis at the weekends, passed away in 1946, and left her an inheritance that would support her for the rest of her life. She met and later married Joe Copeland, a travelling tractor-parts salesman, but that did not last long. ‘My brother Oscar Jnr died of Parkinson’s Disease, my sister Elizabeth had one son, but he was killed in Vietnam. She herself died in 1951.
Margaret also had a battle of her own to be fought. Margaret had always enjoyed a drink. It had helped make things spark when she had been together with Bob Morgan. Later, even as early as her airline stewardess days, she found that her drinking had become a problem. She lost the stewardess job. ‘The management of American Airlines called me down a couple of times when I was taking a flight out. To explain the smell of drink, I told them I had been to a wedding. I had met this girl out in El Paso, Texas. That was one of my layovers. She asked me to spend the summer with her down at at ranch near Corpus Christi. I told American that I had to handle my fathers estate, which was a tale. When we came back, they wanted me to take a trip out. In the meantime I had gotten drunk out in Texas and called Bob up at his home. I thought he was coming up so I told them that I couldn’t take a trip out. In the meantime the airline called home over a five or six dollar expense check that was due me. Mother told them what a grand time I was having down in Corpus Christi and down in Beeville, Texas. And they thought I was on serious business! I’m glad that marijuana and cocaine were not around then or I probably would have gotten into them, too!’
Her private hell lasted nearly sixteen years and only ended in 1963 when she collapsed in a coma which lasted five days. ‘It was the day I was supposed to move out of my house on Lemaster. They found me in bed with my eyes rolled back. They took me to hospital- my brother Tom was coming down and the doctor told him ‘...there was no sense in coming down... either she comes out of it or she doesn’t, and we’ll let you know. So they built me up. They were going to commit me to a sanitarium and then they came and told me that I wasn’t taking care of my dogs, and that’s when I agreed to commit myself. So I went to a sanitarium in Arlington, Texas and stayed ninety days. There I didn’t have any sense. I was hiding my cookies and my candy. They would let me go to the store. I’d buy cookies and candy and I’d hide it like I’d hide my whiskey all through my closet and everything. I guess I overdo everything I do. The only treatment they gave me was becoming a member of Alcoholics Anonymous. I was so dumb! I’m sure I’d heard of it before I went down there. I thought it was an exclusive club! They head to tell me how to write a check down there - I had forgotten. I had brain and liver damage from all that alcohol. It took me two years to get back to something like normal - I was living in never-never land. I didn’t know how to worry about anything.'
She never minded if Memphis Belle fans knew about her long journey into hell and back with her battle with alcoholism - ‘It might help someone to stay away from what I went through’.
Margaret was once asked if it been the bitterness and disappointment of her failed romance which helped catapult her into her battle with alcohol? ‘I believe that our romance was something that simply was not meant to be. You see, Bob and I never had a chance to be together for any length of time. My mother adored Bob. They were great friends. But mother said several times that, in her opinion, Bob would be a wonderful lover but a hell of a poor husband. ‘I believe if Bob and I had married, we would have torn each other to pieces. I believe I was more in love with love than with a man. I believe God had a hand in it all along. It had been in its best moments a thing of such splendored beauty. It had seemed to be a love affair made in heaven’.
Margaret spent nearly six years working with Alcoholics Anonymous, helping other victims struggle out of their own hells. But there came a time to give it up. ‘I wasn’t thinking like an alcoholic anymore. This was something you need if you work with these people’. Not that she had a lot of friends. Some might say she almost led a monastic life in her modest home in midtown Memphis.The spectre of alcohol never left her, she used to say. Alcohol claimed many of her family as victims, including her father, her brother, her sister and her sister’s husband. It claimed her husband. Her marriage lasted five years. ‘It was never really a marriage. I was in the midst of the drinking problem and he had the problem too. It couldn’t have worked’.
When her marriage ended, she legally reverted back to her maiden name. Locals called her ‘Polky’ as a term of casual endearment from the best of her old-time friends from school days. Bob Morgan called her ‘Polky’ when their romance was young and blooming. It survived, shorn of its romantic shading but with a special meaning for those who loved her in a different way.
She worked for years with the Humane Society, but always on the edge of things because she could not abide close relationships with the real action. ‘I can’t go in where the cages are looking at them and knowing’ she used to say. Birds fed freely in her back yard. They knew where lived a generous heart. Margaret spent some of her time working with the Woman’s Exchange, a place where good clothing was made available at bargain prices. ‘I sell and wait on tables in their tea room’
She also made herself available whenever the Memphis Belle was in need of fund-raising efforts. She always lent her presence and her support as the ‘real’ Memphis belle, travelling all over the country with Frank Donofrio of the Memphis Belle Memorial Association. In later years her health started to suffer and Doctors told her to slow down, telling her she was in need of a heart valve replacement and that she should cut down on her swimming in her own backyard pool, a pleasure she always enjoyed.
A tale was told where a visitor who had been visiting Margaret said as he left ‘Well, I’ll go now and leave you in peace’. Her reply was telling and simple. ‘I am at peace, I’m always at peace’.
In 1988 she it was discovered she had a brain tumour - for which she underwent surgery. It was then discovered she also had lung cancer. She refused chemotherapy, preferring instead to take massive amounts of vitamins.
Margaret passed away in her Memphis home at 3.18am on April 15 1990. She was 67. MBMA member Bill Stoots arranged for red and blue ribbons to be hung on the nose of the aircraft out at Mud Island with gold lettering that read ‘In Memory of Margaret’.
When her last will and testament was published, under Item Three, there was the biggest bombshell of all: ‘I direct that any amounts due to me at the time of my death under a certain promissory note in the principal amount of FIVE THOUSAND ($5,000) DOLLARS from ROBERT K MORGAN be considered as paid in full and direct that said note be cancelled.
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