B.W. COOK -- The Crowd

She loved her husband, Scott Hornsby. She loved her sons, Robert and

William Hopkins, and William’s wife, Susie. She loved her grandson,

James. She loved her friends, her community, her career.

Mary Lou Hopkins Hornsby, former society editor and reporter for the

Los Angeles Times, died Friday at the age of 85. She had become an Orange

County institution. A one-woman powerhouse who influenced the social,

civic and cultural path of the Newport-Mesa community and the county at

large.

She achieved her status in life through sheer, self-propelled guts and

ambition, tempered by an overriding belief in a great and dignified

society capable of reaching lofty humanitarian goals founded in a very

Puritan concept of the American dream.

Hopkins Hornsby went to work when most women did not or could not

establish a career. In the early 1960s, with two preteen boys to raise,

she set out as a reporter with the former Los Angeles Mirror, covering

the “women’s beat.” In the male-dominated newsroom of the day, this was

the territory available. Hopkins Hornsby dove in.

In the postwar years, well into the 1960s, society coverage was still

largely devoted to the female elite with the money and the clothing and

the well-connected husband that demanded recognition in print. There were

tea parties and ladies in white gloves to deal with. And there were

politics. Big-time politics reflecting a social hierarchy that was in

some ways invisible, yet also seriously invincible in the City of Angels.

Hopkins Hornsby learned the ropes. She knew -- like any good reporter

covering any beat, even society -- who had the real power and just where

the skeletons were buried. She got her stories. She won the confidence of

Los Angeles society and the respect of her peers, as the coverage of the

women’s beat evolved into the coverage of the “people beat.”

By the mid-1960s, The Mirror joined with the venerable Times, and

Hopkins Hornsby’ stature was flourishing in the big-city newsroom. The

city of Los Angeles was coming into its own as major social leaders,

including the likes of the late Dorothy Buffum Chandler, Anna Bing

Arnold, Sybil Brand, Sybil Hartfield, Caroline Leonetti Ahmanson, Betsy

Bloomingdale, Lenore Annenberg and Grace Salvatore, were raising millions

to build the Los Angeles Music Center and supporting countless civic,

educational, scientific and other community chests.

Hopkins Hornsby facilitated much of the progress through the reporting

on her pages. She got the word out, and the word often turned into

action, and then into dollars.

As her career was reaching crescendo, an opportunity arose that sent

the social scribe into a quandary. Her bosses at the Times wanted her to

take charge of a new beat -- Orange County.

In the late ‘60s, and into the early ‘70s, to put this in perspective,

Orange County was still largely orange, as in orange groves and bean

fields. A massive tract of sage-covered hillside adjacent to the Pacific

Coast in Newport Beach was home to international Boy Scout expeditions

known as Jamborees. Within a few short years, the barren territory roamed

by cattle and Scouts would be transformed into Fashion Island, Big Canyon

and Newport Center.

Hopkins Hornsby would take over the Orange County desk before this

transformation, working with the Times for nearly two decades building

the county of Orange as it transformed from a sleepy agricultural center

into a major national and international community.

Many years ago, Hopkins Hornsby confided that the move from Los

Angeles was at first a shock. It didn’t take long, however, for her to

realize the value of the move for her family. Sons Bob and Bill were

becoming young men, and the more wholesome world of Newport-Mesa was a

welcome change for both mother and sons. Again, she dove in full speed.

Her new territory was full of challenges. There were new people to

meet. New ideas on how things got done. Life was more provincial than in

Los Angeles, but it suited her own very real persona.

Hopkins Hornsby would marry for a second time and live on Lido Isle.

The union was short lived, but she was growing and prospering and

becoming a community leader. Not only was she covering the beat, she was

creating it. And her leadership skills helped to mold the future civic

and social fabric of the region.

Women of Orange County, and men as well, turned to her for advice and

counsel. She was an organizer, a fund-raiser and a leader who created

numerous charities that flourish today.

Of the many contributions she made -- including as the first female

governor of the Balboa Bay Club -- one stands out above them all.

In her later years, Hopkins Hornsby co-founded a local group known as

the Fashionables, with the goal of supporting and funding the building of

an all-faiths chapel at Chapman University in Orange. More than a decade

later, millions of dollars raised, the chapel will become reality.

Hopkins Hornsby knew she would not live to see the completion of her

vision. And it didn’t really matter. For this was part of the essence of

the woman, working and building for the future. Making a difference for

tomorrow, for her children and her grandchildren, and all of the future

generations to follow was a strong ethic in this community beacon.

Her golden years were, for the most part, just that. She would meet

and marry Scott Hornsby, the final love of her accomplished life. They

would spend their time together exhibiting a tremendous zest for life.

Scott Hornsby shared, “We were very much in love. Up until the very

end, we had it all.”

Hornsby, a much loved 92-year-old self-starter still running his own

business, found in his wife the perfect mate.

“For many years, we made a point of coming home each night from our

busy, independent lives and sitting down together over one cocktail to

discuss the day,” he continued fondly. “We talked about every detail of

the day. We shared each other’s lives fully. She was a great gal. And

even though the last few years have been tough, as Mary Lou has been in

declining health, we were in love every moment of the journey together.”

Hopkins Hornsby made every moment of every journey an adventure. She

had that elusive personality element we call charisma. She also had great

personal power. She knew who she was, what she stood for and what really

mattered in life.

Hopkins Hornsby covered the fluff but she was made of steel. A true

and original steel magnolia -- she didn’t have to be from the South -- in

the living flesh. Her leadership will surely affect the community for

decades to come.

THE CROWD appears Thursdays and Saturdays.