Marnye Oppenheim

Monday, June 16, 2003 4:16 PM

New Times “Bite Me” Columnist, former Press Club Asst. Director [In Memoriam]

Marnye Oppenheim was hired as the newsroom assistant at New Times Los Angeles on May 14, 1997, a classically insecure writer from a small town con- vinced that the only way she could break into journalism in L.A. was by starting as a secretary. She died five years later, to the day, on May 14, 2003, as the hottest new writer in Phoenix, mourned by thousands of readers and friends in both locales.

At a private May 19 memorial in Scottsdale, Arizona, attended by 120 close friends and relatives from L.A., Santa Barbara, Las Vegas, Michigan, Phoenix, and other cities, people spoke of a woman who dished out tough talk in her columns but so treasured love that she showered her friends with unconditional loyalty and warmth.

Among her unique trademarks were Marnye’s practice of exclaiming, hands wide apart, upon hearing of a friend’s recent award, front-page story, or other good news, “You’re so fancy!” followed by several kisses planted directly atop their head.

She swore and drank like a stevedore, and put it all in her “Bite Me” column, where she regaled readers with her some- times-raunchy take on life. New Times chain co-owner Mike Lacey said, “Marnye was quickly becoming the most popular writer in any of our papers. Marnye didn’t even fully realize it yet, but she had a huge talent.”

Her close friends understood why her writing spoke to people. “The thing about Marnye is, she was fierce,” said her friend from UC Santa Barbara days, John Jucksch. “She was one fierce girl.”

Susan Goldsmith, who worked at the now-defunct New Times L.A. with Marnye, recalled at the memorial service another side of Marnye: the side that so badly wanted children that she often volunteered to babysit Susan’s tiny son Harrison. One evening, Marnye’s longtime boyfriend, New Times L.A. Editor Rick Barrs, came to drop Marnye off at Susan’s, and Susan introduced Rick to her toddler, Harrison. The bachelor Barrs, having no idea how to “meet” a toddler, formally stuck out his hand to shake, as an amazed Marnye looked on.

Whereupon, Susan said: “Marnye just cries out, ‘You dumb ass! You dumb ass! He can’t shake!’ ”

All 120 memorial attendees erupted in loud laughter, followed by tears.

Another friend, Ann, brought a huge laugh of recognition when she told the gathered friends what she found inside a final letter she received from Marnye—the practical, raised-in-Lodi, Marnye. New mother Ann found “a newspaper article about how to get babies to like vegetables.”

Though she was fighting several serious health problems, including a years-long battle with oftendebilitating Crohn’s disease, and a more recent battle against cervical cancer, Marnye insistently put friends and family first.

Rick Barrs wrote, a few days after she died, “It was always baffling that somebody who was so beautiful and had such an amaz- ing spirit could be enduring so many tragic health problems … oh God, we needed more years with her!”

Dave Anderson, her oldest friend from the tight-knit UC Santa Barbara group, said that despite her own troubles, Marnye “was my best friend, my confidante, and my priest. I don’t know what I am going to do without her.”

On a webpage dedicated to Marnye by columnist Amy Alkon at www.advicegoddess.com, and on the www.laexaminer.com blog site, friends and fans have expressed their sorrow.

One who did so was Alex Ben Block, a Press Club board member and the club’s for- mer executive director, who two years ago hired Marnye to assist him in building mem- bership at the club. “She was the ultimate

soft touch, but angry as a hornet when crossed,” Alex wrote. “She remembered everybody and wanted to help them all, but had no use for stuffed shirts or hot air vendors … She quickly became everybody’s favorite earth mother.”

After the demise of New Times L.A., many of the paper’s writers left L.A. When Marnye left her West Hollywood apartment on a crisp January evening, her car stuffed to its brim with belongings, she said a teary goodbye to New Times L.A. pal Jill Stewart, who saw her off. “I don’t want to go, Jilly,” she wept.

But she was clearly happy in Phoenix. She delighted in giving her L.A. friends instruc- tions on how to view her luxury apartment over the internet, and marveled as her name and her Bite Me moniker became recognized around Phoenix. Her fan following grew so fast that she was assigned a second column, on Phoenix nightlife, and spent months researching it.

“It was all going to be great for her,” says a devastated Rick. “This city was going to be Marnye’s.”

Wherever you are now Marnye, your thousands of friends wish you Godspeed.