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WE’VE ALL HEARD of the obscure relative—often a long-forgotten uncle or aunt—who leaves behind a surprise inheritance. This usually only happens in fairy tales, trashy novels and screwball comedy movies. I certainly never expected it to happen to me, especially at this late stage. But happen it did—from my lifelong friend Katie, who bequeathed me a generous sum.
I learned I was a beneficiary from the will’s executor and from a subsequent letter from the attorney handling the estate. I was happy that my friend held me in such high regard, but the news was also a reminder that I’d lost someone dear. On top of that, there was a feeling that I didn’t do anything to deserve the money, other than to have enjoyed a wonderful friendship.
Had I received the money in my younger days, I could have helped family members in so many ways. I think of my mother’s struggles and wonder why I was given this largesse so late in life.
With Katie gone, there’s now no one left to share the old days with—so many good memories, including those of our parents. Although our mothers were true friends, people were not overly familiar with each other in days of yore. Throughout their friendship, our mothers addressed each other as Mrs. followed by their surnames. Thinking back, it all seems sweet, respectful and quaint. Refinement was a quality ladies aspired to—it was a different time.
Katie used to say that we’d had a connection before we were born. Our mothers met at a class for new mothers while they were still carrying us. We were born a week apart in the same hospital, and became like sisters growing up. Katie even thought that we looked alike. We went through school together and were in the same classes throughout grammar school. We were even first and second in our graduating class.
I loved her parents. Her father was the kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever known. We lived in Brooklyn, and every Saturday Katie’s dad would take her into “the city”—as we called Manhattan—to visit the many sites. I was often invited along. We never missed the wonderful St. Patrick’s Day and Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parades. From the noise and the dirt, to the glamor and the grit, everything held an endless allure.
During our outings, lunch at Horn and Hardart Automat was a special treat. Imagine the thrill of being a child with a handful of nickels, looking through the chrome and glass door of a small window and being able to choose your own lunch—yes, a nickel was worth something back then. In those days, most children ate with their families at home, or at the home of a friend or relative. Eating at a restaurant was a rare experience.
The Automat was famous for its quality cup of coffee, which was only a nickel from 1912 to 1950. And for less than $1 you could enjoy a complete meal. You put a few nickels in a slot and opened the door to whatever you fancied. It was like magic. You got good quality food, cleanliness and fine service. And no tipping. The rich, the famous and the average working man dined at the Automat. It was as big a draw as the Statue of Liberty.
For those not familiar with the Automat, you can get a good look at this iconic piece of Americana on YouTube. There are several clips from various movies, and Kanopy has a great documentary depicting the restaurant’s unique history. Philadelphia had the first Automat, followed a year later by additional Automats in New York City.
As Katie and I grew into adults, our paths diverged. I married. Katie remained single. She travelled extensively, including several trips to her parents’ homeland, Scotland. And she enjoyed several cruises. We were now living in different states and we didn’t see each other nearly as often, but we still visited and kept in close contact. There are some people you may not see or talk to on a regular basis—but somehow, when you do, it’s like picking up where you left off. That’s how it was with Katie and me.
What will I do with the inheritance? I intend to use it to improve my life, my husband’s life and the lives of those around me. I will try to live my values by not embodying a vision of wealth and status that doesn’t align with who I truly am, and I’ll set aside a certain percentage for charitable giving. I agree with the many social scientists who feel that money given away provides more happiness than money received.
I tried researching how others feel about receiving money late in life and how they use an inheritance. My research ended with people in their 60s—it seems that no one expects people to inherit money in their 80s. I agree that it’s unusual. Apparently, Katie didn’t think so. She never told me I was a beneficiary, but I’d like to think that her purpose in honoring our friendship was to make my final years more comfortable, and to let me know how much she valued our friendship.
For me, Katie was a true gift. Because our relationship never changed throughout the years, I think of her as my forever friend. You may have many friends throughout your life, but very few lifelong friends—those who accept you for who you are and you accept them. It’s a special bond.
Marjorie Kondrack loves music, dancing and the arts, and is a former amateur ice dancer accredited by the United States Figure Skating Association. In retirement, she worked for eight years as a tax preparer for the IRS’s VITA and TCE programs. Check out Marjorie’s earlier articles.Want to receive our weekly newsletter? Sign up now. How about our daily alert about the site's latest posts? Join the list.
Marjorie…what a beautiful article about your beautiful friendship with Beth. It moved me.
All of us aren’t blessed with friendships like the one you enjoyed with Beth. You were both truly fortunate.
I recently got in touch with a young man with whom I attended the US ARMY Adjutant General’s School, in May 1969. He and I both went to Viet Nam when we graduated, but we were assigned to different organizations and lost touch. 54 Years later I got an email from him because he saw an old financial article I wrote and contacted my institution, who told him I had retired, but they forwarded his information to me. We had our first 3 hour phone call shortly thereafter, and we have had a few since.
George is not Beth, but your comment about friends don’t have to be in constant contact to love one another and care about one another.
Enjoy your inheritance.
Kevin, I agree the relationship I had with Katie was rare. Enjoyed hearing your story as well. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for sharing your story about your friendship. You are truly lucky to have had such a special lifelong friendship. I intended to bequeath gifts to a few close friends and family. But, since they’re my age and I don’t know who will go first, in recent years I decided it would be more meaningful to give those gifts while I’m alive. I gave my mother’s gold bracelet to a close relative on a special birthday, and an expensive piece of china to a special friend this year. It has given me great joy to see them both enjoying their gifts.
VAA..thank you for your thoughtful comments and letting us know of your giving nature. I’m sure your mother’s bracelet meant a lot to you.
Isn’t it ironic that so many objects last longer than we do.
I’m glad you had the joy of knowing your gifts were appreciated
A wonderful tribute to Katie and your friendship. Thanks for sharing it with us. ❤️
Thank you, Dana, for reading , and your very nice comments.
What a beautiful friendship. Thank you for sharing your story. I’m sure you will make good use of the windfall.
i had never heard of the Automats – looks like quintessential Americana. I can’t think of a UK equivalent. Perhaps Lyon’s Corner Houses/Tea Rooms, but they had waitress service.
Thanks for your comments, Kathy.
you and Katie had your love of travel in common. While Katie always had a companion,
I’ve admired your courage in traveling solo—sometimes it’s the best way.
Thanks, but it’s only courage if you’re afraid, and I mostly wasn’t. I found that if I was with someone my attention was split between them and the places I had come to see. However, there are times when a companion would come in handy!
Marjorie, your story was a lovely gift this morning. I know you will keep safe your memories of your dear friend Katie. Such memories are treasures. Thank you for sharing yours. Your story recalled to my mind this:
We were living in Stuyvesant Town when my mother died. It was 1955 when I was not yet 5. I remember my dad taking me on some long walks in Manhattan in the following few years. He’d been in the Army and would march in step and then change it up, which I would stay alert for and mimic. I can clearly see in my mind’s eye at least one visit to the Horn and Hardart automat, and how much fun it was to look through those glass doors to pick out lunch items.
IPF..how fun to hear about your military marches with your father. Those are the sort of experiences a small boy would remember and cherish.
The unique part of looking through those glass doors at the Automat, and choosing your lunch items, was that it wasn’t just a picture of what you would get…it was the actual item.
Thanks for your input.
“experiences a small boy would remember and cherish.”
Yep, and in this case, a small girl. 🙂
You probably went to the one on E. 23rd St. It was one of the last to close. I occasionally had lunch there when I briefly worked in the Flatiron Building in 1973. Walked there from our Stuyvesant Town apartment on 14th St.
Linda Grady, our apartment was also on 14th St., so that sounds right. Thanks so much for filling in a gap in my memory.
Marjorie, thank you for this lovely story about your lifelong friendship with Katie. And how fun to learn more about Automats. When I was 13 in 1965, I remember a trip to NYC with my parents. For a boy from Dallas, there were many first time sights and sounds, but among them I vividly remember a trip to the Automat. Nothing like it in Dallas, that’s for sure! And I’ve just added the film to my Kanopy watchlist—thank you.
Andrew, thanks for reading and commenting. I was afraid most people from different parts of the country wouldn’t be able to relate to my Automat reference but I was hoping it would spark interest.
I know you’ll enjoy the documentary. I was sorry when it ended. And since I know you like movies, there is one called Easy Living with a young and handsome Ray Milland, with a really funny Automat scene, free on YouTube.
Marjorie, great story and tribute to Katie. Thanks for sharing it.
Thanks for reading and commenting, Ken. You and Katie had something in common—she was a book lover too. Her executrix was overwhelmed by the collection in her basement.
Marjorie – this is a wonderful reflection of lives well-lived. Clearly, Katie was a friend for the ages, and she trusted your judgement. Congrats on the consideration for charitable giving. There are many institutions and organizations in need of generosity like yours and Katie’s.
Thanks, Jeff. I never expected to inherit money from a friend. Katie had a very spiritual side and she loved animals so I assumed that’s where the bulk of her assets would go. But she did give generously to the church and to animal welfare societies; also to her community.
Marjorie, Life long friends are indeed special. Not something ever to be taken for granted, but rather a gift to be nurture and relished. Thank you for sharing your thoughts; I am sorry for your loss. Keep her memories strong and close to your heart.
You are right, Jeff. We do tend to take friends and family for granted. Every so often it’s good to be reminded of just how important and special they are.
Marjorie, thank you for this beautiful story that is so evocative of earlier times and precious friendships. So many elements of your story are familiar to me and brought back happy memories. My sincere condolences on the loss of your friend Katie. Someone very close to me was similarly the surprise beneficiary of a dear friend. Like you, this person spent many years caring for family members. Such a blessing that both you and the person close to me had friends who loved and appreciated you. And I am blessed to know both of you!
Thank you for your kind words, Linda.
As in many areas of life, less can be more when it comes to true friendships.
i have tried to surround myself with people who radiate kindness, warmth and a fresh perspective on life. Most important, a friend should remind you of someone you would like to be. And, in short, I strive to be the kind of person that I would like to hang out with.
Marjorie, thanks for a lovely story. I’m very sorry for your loss of a loved one. It sounds like you had a great friend. As Ed said below, she must have trusted you enough to entrust her wealth to you. This story is a great reminder to all of us to make sure we keep those bonds of friendship strong, regardless of time and distance.
Thank you Rick. All things considered, happiness is one of the cheapest things in the world when we secure a good part of it through friendship. Money contributes to our lives, without doubt, but it’s just that friendship contributes a lot more.
Appreciate your kind comments.
Marjorie, this was a beautiful article. Thank you for telling us about your special friendship with Katie. Chris
Chris, Thank you for reading and for your kind words. Appreciate your taking the time to reply.
Marjorie, thank you for the thoughtful reflection of your lifelong friendship. Your segue into the joys of automats in New York triggered some fond memories of my “gap” year away from college that I spent living in New York City back in the mid-80s.
The old Horn and Hardart automat near the corner of 6th Ave. and West 57th (which I’m told was the the largest automat in their chain) had been converted in the early 80’s into an Art-Deco style delicatessen, with a max seating capacity of more than 500! In the “city that never sleeps” the New York Delicatessen was open 24×7. I waited tables on the graveyard shift from 9 pm – 6 am. As a server, I rubbed shoulders with many notable actors, athletes, musicians, and more than a few of the “working girls” from the local area (a number of those ladies were my best tippers). What an adventure for an 18 year old new to the big city!
The restaurant was mammoth in size, with a 2nd floor balcony seating area that overlooked the 1st floor dining room. It required a full kitchen on each floor during the lunch rush to serve all their patrons. The interior designers retained many of the original automat fixtures as a tribute to this location’s storied history. I do wish that I had taken a few photos from back then!
Sadly, time marches on, and this West 57th location is now a glass and steel high rise tower. But it’s fun to reminisce around those days in NYC and the “things that aren’t there anymore”.
Newsboy, so interesting reading your comments. The Automat was very democratic. People from all walks of life dined there. And isn’t everything so much more exciting when we’re young. Glad I brought back some adventurous reminiscences. Thanks for sharing.
I visited this Automat many times in the 1950’s with my mother and her great-aunt, a single woman who lived right around the corner on Central Park South. The location played a role in a dramatic episode where my elderly aunt was nearly swindled out of her fortune by a couple of con artists who befriended her there …But too long a story to tell here! 😉
Linda, the Automat was fun. I read some menus from the 1940s where a complete meal Was 85 cents. It was beautiful too. Lots of marble and glass.
Luminaries like Audrey Hepburn and Ruth Bader Ginsburg dined at the Automat.
i hope some readers will look into the Kanopy documentary. When you get to Kanopy site, just type in The Automat in search box.It’s free to library card holders. So interesting.
there were no fast food restaurants as yet. The Automat has a unique place in history.
Margorie, I’m so happy to hear of Katie’s gift. None of us truly deserve anything, but perhaps Katie knew you would make good use of her money for yourself and others. And it’s a steady reminder of her love for you and your friendship.
Ed, thank you. While some things in life are unpredictable, I get few surprises from your comments—always respectful, positive and appropriate.