Eppie Lederer
| Eppie Lederer | |
|---|---|
Publicity photo in 1961
| |
| Born | Esther Pauline Friedman July 4, 1918 Sioux City, Iowa, U.S. |
| Died | June 22, 2002 (aged 83) Chicago, Illinois, U.S. |
| Cause of death | Cancer[1] |
| Other names | Ann Landers |
| Alma mater | Morningside College |
| Occupation | Personal advice columnist, author, radio host |
| Spouse(s) | Jules Lederer (m. 1939–1975) |
| Children | Margo (b. 1940) |
| Relatives | Pauline Phillips (twin sister) |
Esther Pauline "Eppie" Lederer (née Friedman; July 4, 1918 – June 22, 2002), better known by the pen name Ann Landers, was an American advice columnist and eventually a nationwide media celebrity. She began writing the "Ask Ann Landers" column in 1955 and continued for 47 years, by which time its readership was 90 million people. A 1978 World Almanac survey named her the most influential woman in the United States.[2] She was the identical twin sister of Pauline Phillips, who wrote the "Dear Abby" advice column as Abigail Van Buren.
Lederer was a profile-raiser for several medical charities, and in 1977 President Carter appointed her to a six-year term on a cancer advisory board.
Giving advice is an imposing responsibility and I am aware of the faith and trust placed in me by millions of readers.
Had I been blessed with the wisdom of Solomon, I could not pull out of my hat the answers to all the questions put to me in a single day.
I don't pretend to be an authority on every subject, but through the years I have been privileged to count authorities in many professions among my friends.
When I want help with special problems involving such fields as medicine, psychiatry, law, religion, business, politics or education, I can turn to my friends who are experts and get first-rate advice. They may be thousands of miles away, but they are as close to me as my telephone. People sometimes accuse me of making up letters because
"Dear Ann Landers: I've been reading your column for a long time and I enjoy it a lot, but I'm sure you must make up the letters. Nobody could be so stupid as to get into the jams I read about in your column. I'm not complaining, mind you, it's good entertainment. Your column alone is worth the price of the newspaper, but I had to let you know I'm reading you regularly with tongue in cheek.
"x-Ray Ed"
"Dear X-Ray. Thanks for the vote of no confidence. It bothers me not at all that you think I invent the letters. You aren't the only one.
"What did you think, Ed,
about the woman who sued her husband for divorce because he insisted that she pay him (out of her household budget) union-scale wages for emptying the garbage and doing odd jobs around the house? If you recall, he was an $18,000 a year vice-president of a bank.
"And how about the man who divorced his wife because she insisted he wear a chauffeur's uniform and wait outside when she went visiting and shopping?
"And what about the New York woman who had a money fight with her husband, went to the bank, drew out $7,100 in 50 and 100 dollar bills from their joint bank account and threw the money around on a Manhattan street corner—to the deli ht of passers by
-I've been asked how to handle mooching relatives, lecherous bosses, free-loading fiancés, noisy neighbors, jealous husbands, catty girl friends and pathological liars.
A woman from Little Rock sent a dozen snapshots of her gentleman friend and wanted to know if I thought he was dyeing his hair.
People have asked me if they should change churches, have another baby, run for public office, submit to nose surgery, marry for money, tell a close friend her husband is cheating, and hit a neighbor's child "when he's got it coming."
Every letter I receive gets a personal reply in the mail if there's a return address and I have eight full-time assistants helping me to tote that bale. I consider this personal service an obligation.
Their questions involve every phase of daily living. I've been asked by a disillusioned groom what to do about a young bride who boiled the envelope of grated cheese, instead of the macaroni. A bewildered mother asked how to deal with her enterprising ten-year-old son who took a fistful of his father's two-dollar neckties to school and sold them for a dime apiece. A mother of five young children asked: "What can I do with a husband who consults his horoscope every morning? If the prediction for the day isn't good, he stays home from work." A twenty-one-year-old girl who signed herself "Still Pure Bride" wanted to know what to do about her twenty-four-year-old
husband who was sunburned on the first day of their honeymoon. Although the sunburn had been healed for weeks, he continued to smear medicine on his back as an excuse to keep his distance from her.
One reader simply asked: "Dear Ann Landers: Please tell me what is life?
Thank you."
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