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Manly IA Obituaries and Death Notices
Monday, August 01, 2016Goldberger said. "We pulled many an all-nighter," she said, "but you were on such a high. It was so exhilarating, and I wouldn't trade it for anything."Mr. Mayer's approach to advertising was "gentlemanly," said Romig, now the president and chief executive of of New Orleans Tourism Marketing Corp. "He was outgoing; he was caring. He set the tone; he set the standard. He did it with gusto and seemed to be able to ensure that the messages (his agency) did for clients hit the mark."Peter Arno Mayer was born in 1929 in the Germany town of Neustadt an der Weinstrasse. He wound up in New Orleans with his parents as a result of what Mark Mayer described as "a strange quirk of fate."To be admitted to the United States, refugees had to have someone to vouch for them. For the Mayers, those guardian angels were a pair of bachelor uncles who owned a sock factory in New Orleans.When they got settled, Mr. Mayer's father became a traveling salesman. His mother became a baker.Listen to Peter Mayer talk about his New Orleans childhood:Mr. Mayer mastered English well enough to graduate from Alcée Fortier High School when he was 16. He received a degree in journalism at the University of Missouri, where he was a member of Alpha Epsilon Pi fraternity.After serving in the Air Force, Mr. Mayer returned to New Orleans and got a job in The Times-Picayune's circulation department. He later worked at Walker Saussy and Fitzgerald advertising agencies before going out on his own."Unbridled optimism" made Mr. Mayer feel sure his agency would succeed, his son said.One example of that optimism happened when the Mayers went on a fishing trip to Cocodrie. Even though a winter storm had knocked out electricity and left ice on the bayou, Mr. Mayer bought some shrimp to use as bait and decided to go fishing nearby in a body of water about the size of a drainage canal, his son said."Residents looked at us like we were idiots," he said, "but we caught a lot of fish because the weather forced a lot of fish into the bayou. That'll give you an insight into the man: Most people would turn around, but he decided to stay."Mark Mayer shares ownership of the firm with his brother, Joshua, who joined the agency in 1991 and is its executive creative director.Their father taught advertising part-time at Loyola University, received the Silver Medal from the Advertising Club of New Orleans in 1982 and was named a Young Leadership Council Role Model in 1996. In 1994, he was inducted into the Louisiana Broadcasters Hall of Fame.Even though he had officially retired by this time, he continued to come daily to the office at 324 Camp St. Because his son had banned smoking in the office, Mr. Mayer took a director's chair out to the sidewalk every afternoon to sit and savor one of his beloved Plasencia cigars as he chatted with tourists...
Monday, July 04, 2016What makes you think I would share it with you?”Grunting and groaning through each renewed manly motion, clear as a bell I heard her own dig when she replied, “That was settled long ago when you said ‘I do.’”Lord, why does she always get the final word?So, I asked myself, is this really worth it?Time spent? Nope.Back-breaking labor? Nope.Punishing verbal abuse? Decidedly N-O.My latest doubting-Thomas moment was interrupted when yet another manly thrust was met with an oh-so-familiar hollow thud.This was it!I so wanted to shout “eureka” just to watch that smirk disappear from her curled lips, but she was long gone.These riches were going to be mine — mine, I say, mine, mine, all mine!STORY BEHIND THE MYSTERY OBJECTCarefully digging around the perimeter, to expose the edges of what appeared to be an old Marine Plywood box, I saw that a few hundred ravenous termites had chewed and spit out several full-course meals and left its top uneven.The decaying mystery object was about 2?1/2 feet long by 1?1/2 feet wide.My enthusiasm was unbridled as I giddily pried off the top of the box. The great reveal presented the shrunken remains of a black-brown-and-white beagle peacefully curled up on a feather pillow.Oh, boy! I wasn’t ready for this.This man’s tired eyes welled up so fast I could barely see a thing.I had never meant to disturb the final resting place of any creature great and small, bright and beautiful or wise and wonderful.And if you know me, or have gotten to know me through these occasional tales, you surely know my heart was broken.Visibly shaking, I was back on my haunches when I realized this pup had been someone’s close companion. His owner had taken the time to lovingly build him a final resting place. The pillow might have been his dog bed or favorite place to sleep. Without a collar or tag, I want to presume that he was buried along one of his favorite happy hunting tr...
Manly News
Monday, August 01, 2016Goldberger said. "We pulled many an all-nighter," she said, "but you were on such a high. It was so exhilarating, and I wouldn't trade it for anything."Mr. Mayer's approach to advertising was "gentlemanly," said Romig, now the president and chief executive of of New Orleans Tourism Marketing Corp. "He was outgoing; he was caring. He set the tone; he set the standard. He did it with gusto and seemed to be able to ensure that the messages (his agency) did for clients hit the mark."Peter Arno Mayer was born in 1929 in the Germany town of Neustadt an der Weinstrasse. He wound up in New Orleans with his parents as a result of what Mark Mayer described as "a strange quirk of fate."To be admitted to the United States, refugees had to have someone to vouch for them. For the Mayers, those guardian angels were a pair of bachelor uncles who owned a sock factory in New Orleans.When they got settled, Mr. Mayer's father became a traveling salesman. His mother became a baker.Listen to Peter Mayer talk about his New Orleans childhood:Mr. Mayer mastered English well enough to graduate from Alcée Fortier High School when he was 16. He received a degree in journalism at the University of Missouri, where he was a member of Alpha Epsilon Pi fraternity.After serving in the Air Force, Mr. Mayer returned to New Orleans and got a job in The Times-Picayune's circulation department. He later worked at Walker Saussy and Fitzgerald advertising agencies before going out on his own."Unbridled optimism" made Mr. Mayer feel sure his agency would succeed, his son said.One example of that optimism happened when the Mayers went on a fishing trip to Cocodrie. Even though a winter storm had knocked out electricity and left ice on the bayou, Mr. Mayer bought some shrimp to use as bait and decided to go fishing nearby in a body of water about the size of a drainage canal, his son said."Residents looked at us like we were idiots," he said, "but we caught a lot of fish because the weather forced a lot of fish into the bayou. That'll give you an insight into the man: Most people would turn around, but he decided to stay."Mark Mayer shares ownership of the firm with his brother, Joshua, who joined the agency in 1991 and is its executive creative director.Their father taught advertising part-time at Loyola University, received the Silver Medal from the Advertising Club of New Orleans in 1982 and was named a Young Leadership Council Role Model in 1996. In 1994, he was inducted into the Louisiana Broadcasters Hall of Fame.Even though he had officially retired by this time, he continued to come daily to the office at 324 Camp St. Because his son had banned smoking in the office, Mr. Mayer took a director's chair out to the sidewalk every afternoon to sit and savor one of his beloved Plasencia cigars as he chatted with tourists...
Monday, July 04, 2016What makes you think I would share it with you?”Grunting and groaning through each renewed manly motion, clear as a bell I heard her own dig when she replied, “That was settled long ago when you said ‘I do.’”Lord, why does she always get the final word?So, I asked myself, is this really worth it?Time spent? Nope.Back-breaking labor? Nope.Punishing verbal abuse? Decidedly N-O.My latest doubting-Thomas moment was interrupted when yet another manly thrust was met with an oh-so-familiar hollow thud.This was it!I so wanted to shout “eureka” just to watch that smirk disappear from her curled lips, but she was long gone.These riches were going to be mine — mine, I say, mine, mine, all mine!STORY BEHIND THE MYSTERY OBJECTCarefully digging around the perimeter, to expose the edges of what appeared to be an old Marine Plywood box, I saw that a few hundred ravenous termites had chewed and spit out several full-course meals and left its top uneven.The decaying mystery object was about 2?1/2 feet long by 1?1/2 feet wide.My enthusiasm was unbridled as I giddily pried off the top of the box. The great reveal presented the shrunken remains of a black-brown-and-white beagle peacefully curled up on a feather pillow.Oh, boy! I wasn’t ready for this.This man’s tired eyes welled up so fast I could barely see a thing.I had never meant to disturb the final resting place of any creature great and small, bright and beautiful or wise and wonderful.And if you know me, or have gotten to know me through these occasional tales, you surely know my heart was broken.Visibly shaking, I was back on my haunches when I realized this pup had been someone’s close companion. His owner had taken the time to lovingly build him a final resting place. The pillow might have been his dog bed or favorite place to sleep. Without a collar or tag, I want to presume that he was buried along one of his favorite happy hunting tr...
