Marion L. Fawcett.
Ivan Marries Marion L. Fawcett ("Sabina Bertschy Warren" becomes "Sabina W. Sanderson")
Alma's death was a tragedy for both Ivan and Marion Fawcett. Sabina has said that she came to SITU headquarters in 1968 to replace an assistant named Susan Brown, who was leaving to get married.
Marion, born Sabina Bertschy Warren, was a twin. She and her sister were born August 19, 1931 to Richard Baker Warren and the former Sabina Clara (or "Clare") Grzybowski at Crozer Hospital (now Crowzer-Chester Medical Center) in Upland, Pennsylvania. Her sister Betsy is named after her real mother's stepmother, Elizabeth Shoemaker Grzybowski, daughter of the millionaire Swedenborgian, Owen Shoemaker of the J.L. Shoemaker leather goods company, and a relative of Julien Shoemaker, a major figure in the history of the J.B. Lippincott publishing company. For some reason I have yet to figure out, the twins becane part of the Fawcett family in December 1944, and their mother's stepmother became their stepmother. Sabina Bertschy Warren became Marion Fawcett and her sister became Elizabeth (Betsy) Fawcett. Aside from an entry in the reference work, Contemporary Authors, Sabina would continue to be known publicly as Marion L. Fawcett until her marriage with Ivan T. Sanderson in 1972.
The Warren twins' future stepfather was Clarence Edward Fawcett, of Concordville, Pennsylvania (21 Jun 1882 – October 1961, Monterey, California). In December 1944 the twins began living with Clarence and Elizabeth Shoemaker Fawcett, the former Elizabeth Shoemaker Grzybowski.
The twins turned out to be both academically gifted. Marion Fawcett was one of three graduating high school students in 1949 to receive the Emalea P. Warner scholarship to the University of Delaware. While in high school he had planned on majoring in French at the University. She did attend the University of Delaware from 1949-1952, though an email exchange with the University of Delaware alumni association revealed that she had not graduated and, surprisingly, no academic major was listed.
According to the reference work Contemporary Authors, Ivan T. Sanderson and Sabina W. SandersonMarion later moved to Philadelphia and became a medical secretary in the pediatric department of the Hahnemann Medical College and Hospital, Philadelphia (1953–1959), an associate editor in the medical book publishing division of J.B. Lippincott & Co.(1959-1965), and for several years after that was secretarial assistant to Dr. Whitfield J. Bell, Jr., of the American Philosophical Society Library, also in Philadelphia (1965-1968). Her book An Index to Films in Review, 1950-1959, was published by The National Board of Review in 1961. She also compiled An Index to Films in Review, 1960-1964, and at least part of An Index to Films in Review, 1965-1969, with Sandra Lester. Her real name was revised to "Sabina Warren Sanderson" in a subsequent edition of Contemporary Authors (New Revision Series, Volume 3). She lists herself as executive secretary and assistant to the director of SITU from 1968 until 1977.
In any case, Ivan and Marion/Sabina drew close and they were married on April 27, 1972 by Judge John C. Stritehoff in his offices on Main Street in Blairstown, New Jersey. Interestingly, Alma told Ivan personally that he should marry Marion after her death. That was quite uncharacteristic for Alma, as she was always highly possessive of Ivan and jealous of any female who might catch his eye or pay too much attention to him. It was in any event a perfect match, for both Ivan and Sabina had been “literary partners” for years, their very writing styles being similar. If one were reading an edition of Pursuit, for instance, one could not determine whether a particular article was written by Ivan or by Marion, unless one read the byline. Ivan told everyone that, with the marriage, the name of Marion L. Fawcett was retired, and Sabina Bertschy Warren reappeared to now become Sabina W. Sanderson.
In any event, Ivan's marriage to Sabina went well and all of the festivities of this happy occasion generated new well-being in him.
In September of 1972, however, Ivan went through an automobile accident, and although no one was injured, Ivan’s mental state and outlook on life became dim. Shortly after the accident, he developed a constant pain. It soon became impossible for him to push the keys on a typewriter, so he resorted to writing out his articles and editorials for Pursuit in longhand. Even this became painful after a time, and he only averaged about a page of it a day. Finally, he went to recording his thoughts on tape, his loyal assistants transcribing from it word for word. The cancer, now in his abdomen, was getting the better of him.
Toward the end it was as if everyone who had ever heard of Ivan Sanderson wanted to meet him at least once before he died. Ivan and company were besieged with both visiting members and the mass of the curious, who looked upon Ivan’s home/Headquarters as the Mecca of the fortean world. The annoyances, drudgery, and periodic invasions by outsiders were continuous. The phones, for example, were ringing twelve hours a day. Calls from the printer, Roggie Hicks, calls for still more appointments (now made a week in advance) and long distance “beeper” calls were coming in, which required the bedridden Ivan to gather his thoughts and start talking to inquisitive radio talk show hosts and their audiences. This all went on for seven days a week throughout the year. A fence had to be built around Headquarters to keep roving bands of sightseers out.
A dwindling number of staff members took over Ivan’s production of about half a dozen television programs aired on a local UHF station, while at the same time appearing on an equal number of radio and TV network talk shows. This left Ivan to contend with the 40 or more beeper radio shows that came in over the phone that year.
Towards the end of 1972, Ivan went through a bout with London Flu, from which he recovered. Then one day he fell and suffered a concussion. The hospital found that he had been struck down again, this time with pnemonia. Ivan, who had never had so much as a cold in his salad days, remained in the hospital for several weeks. He returned home.
In a long talk with his friend, neighbor and SITU Treasurer and Assistant Director, Allen V. Noe, Ivan, now on the verge of death, expressed the desire for SITU to go on no matter what.
“I don’t mind dying,” Ivan lamented, “but its such a nuisance—it's interfering with our work.”
The radiation treatments had created a condition in Ivan that left him without a taste for food. The only thing in the way of nourishment that he found enjoyable was some nut bread baked by Alien Noe’s wife. He would sit back and spread pints of English marmelade over the individual slices like an artist spreading oil pigments on a canvas, and then, when the collection of epicurean delights was complete, he would pause momentarily to admire the shiny, glistening works of art, then devour his little masterpieces in less than ten minutes.
Ivan T. Sanderson Passes on...
On the morning of the day he died, Ivan did a one hour beeper show from his bedroom. He was talking with a radio reporter, their conversation being broadcast over a station in New Mexico. After the show, Ivan fell back into bed, exhausted. “I’ll never do another show in this condition,” he muttered, as he closed his eyes and suddenly lapsed into a coma.
At 10:00 p.m., Allen Noe entered the front door carrying another loaf of his wife’s nut bread. As Noe neared the stairs he could hear Ivan’s weak, rough voice coming from the upstairs bedroom: “Dogs... dogs... dogs... “ He was calling for his four golden retreivers, to see them all for the last time. Alien turned around, put the loaf of nut bread under his arm, then quietly made his way out the front door and went home.
Although his brilliant mind functioned with its usual precision right up until that last show, the combination of diseases and the pain were all too much for him. Thus, death came as a “blessed relief” as Marion later said.
His life did not end in a blaze of glory, yet his ubiquitous influence on the lives of the people whom he touched only became evident after his untimely passing: Not a one of them, not even the skeptics with whom he had long battled, could believe that the life of the indefatigable Ivan Sanderson had finally run its course.