Relay: She’s Truly Grand

When Terry Watson received a call at her winter vacation house on St. John telling her that the Montauk Friends of Erin had chosen her to lead the 52nd St. Patrick’s Day parade as its grand marshal, she thought it was a prank. Her husband, George, is one of the hamlet’s biggest pranksters, so it was a logical conclusion.

Stunned by the news, all she could say was “okay,” and then she hung up the phone and cried, she said on Monday. “I never imagined they would choose me, but it’s such an honor and I’m thrilled,” she said.

It’s the Friends that should be honored because Terry is an elusive figure who often stays in the background of things. George, on the other hand, has his hand in many things, often with hilarious results. And when he gets really crazy, Terry just calmly rolls her eyes and keeps her mouth shut.

At functions, she doesn’t often allow her picture to be taken and she usually prefers not to comment on various issues. She does many good deeds that no one knows of, as she’s very quiet about what she does and she doesn’t expect accolades.

But in a hamlet as small as Montauk, word gets around, and whether she likes it or not, we know; we see you, Terry, and most of us are proud to consider you a good friend of the community.

I met Terry back in the early ’70s when a large group of us, most of whom are still here, settled in Montauk, calling it home for some 40 years. She and George bought the old Fitzgerald’s bar and renamed it the Dock about the same time my husband and I bought the old Pier One restaurant, a breakfast joint that opened at 2 a.m. to feed the hungry fishermen. As they were closing for the night, we were just opening and they often stopped by to chat and eat.

Their place was and still is successful; ours wasn’t. The taxes and nighttime hours killed us. My husband was the cook and I was the waitress. The only money made in the dead of winter was when I played blackjack with the fishermen, a game I was very good at. When customers would come in during our card games, my husband would insist that I keep playing while he waited on them. Fishermen back then were kind of sexist and they couldn’t believe that they had been beaten by a girl.

We had some laughs and the laughs continued when we rented a house near the Watsons. Our house was on the south side of the Montauk School and they were on the north side of it, up on a hill. We didn’t often socialize in our homes but of course saw each other in the neighborhood. Our two families had children close in age, so we were also thrown together at school functions.

George and Terry owned a dog named Jackson, and Peter and I had a dog named Jake. Both of them were dominant males and did not get along. They sometimes fought, which made for a prickly situation that was heightened when my Jake killed one of the Watson’s rabbits. Even back then I knew George to be a prankster and I woke each morning expecting to see the dead rabbit on the pillow next to me or in a stewpot on the stove.

Terry has the distinction of being only the seventh female grand marshal in Montauk. She and George are both avid exercisers. George runs, and Terry, who used to jog, now walks. So she was well prepared for the hike down Fifth Avenue on Tuesday for the city’s St. Patrick’s Day parade, and for the few miles this Sunday in the Montauk parade. Her whole family — four sons and grandchildren — will be home for the festivities, which should be a rousing good time. You go, girl. Make us proud!

Janis Hewitt is a senior writer for The Star.