BETTY JANE KRAEMER, ASH
Remembering Mary Maberly
by MaryKate Brennan (originally published in Volume 23, No. 2 of the Muse):
Betty Jane Kraemer (Mary Maberly) died January 7, 2007 in Tonawanda, NY.
It’s been 25 years since I last saw Betty Jane Kraemer, but I retain fond memories of “BJ,” the grande dame of the early days of Buffalo’s Irish Secret Society. Poised, with a panache that made her look better in full Victorian regalia than anyone I knew then, knowledgeable on all things Holmes and otherwise, BJ was like no other Sherlockian I knew in those days.
Quite obviously, she wasn’t a man. Nor was she was the sort of bright young thing I hoped I was and who made up the other female Sherlockians of my world. No, BJ—and I was never terribly sure she really liked the initial appellation, but we Secret Irish persons used it often—was a woman of many experiences: wife, mother, grandmother, and retired teacher. She was the proud owner of a delightful home in Tonawanda, New York, to which she’d often invite Society members for a meeting—it had those homey touches you just couldn’t get at a restaurant.
As I’ve thought of Betty Jane in the weeks since her death, I find myself remembering a woman who was so unlike the other women of her generation I knew. She had an inner strength that made her not only a friend in spite of our age difference, but that also gave her a presence, an aura, that made those around her just a bit more genteel and cultured that we were away from her. I remember Betty Jane as a woman I was slightly in awe of, mostly because she could go from giving motherly advice to a college kid to arguing points of Sherlockian minutiae in the blink of an eye—something my mom sure couldn’t do!
Once I left college, I grew apart from the Irish Secret Society and my friends from that group. Although I have on occasion crossed paths with some of them, in the callous way of youth, I never did look up BJ again. But my memory of her in her beautiful Victorian gowns and hats with the slightly incongruous eyeglasses remains, and I wish her spirit well as it travels on its way. May she find that humble corner of Valhalla where Sherlock and his Watson dwell. Ave atque vale, Betty Jane!
