What Frank Bogert did for me in the 1950s shows why his statue matters to so many

A column last year asked: “Why do stories or opinion pieces on statues generate so much more comment than ones about arguably far more important issues?” (July 4, 2021).

I puzzled over this, too, and saved the column. That was over six months ago. Obviously my answer today is not a knee-jerk response.

There must be thousands of different answers to what touches people and moves them to stick their necks out and write. I’m just one of those thousands persisting in support of Frank Bogert’s legacy.

Here’s my personal, honest answer to your important, honest question.

My family moved to Palm Springs in 1950. We had no family or contacts here, but the most well-known man in Palm Springs, Bogert, was probably our first friend. For the rest of his long life he was known by us as a true hero, the ”real deal,” not just another celebrity in this celebrity-rich town.

My parents came to know many famous people “up close and personal.”

They worked for them, the best way to truly know anyone,  My dad chauffeured them during "the season" and "night watched" their properties during the summer. My mom was their seamstress by day, and took their pictures by night. She was the "camera girl" at famous Chi Chi's nightclub.

We lived in Section 14 and I was an elementary student at Katherine Finchy School when Bogert befriended us. He had nothing to gain from this friendship, but our family gained so much from this great man's warm welcome, his fun and friendly attitude to us as newcomers, poor ones at that.

He made sure we felt we belonged here. He wanted us to love Palm Springs like he did.

"We drove into town looking like the Grapes of Wrath, but with no grapes," my mom would say, and "the reservation" (Section 14) looked like an upgrade after our family life in a car.

No wonder the kindness of Bogert meant everything, and no wonder the assault on his character today seems ignorant and cruel. My story is just one of thousands belonging to people still living who know from real life the true legacy of this great man.

We are standing up for him, each with our own unshakable reasons.

"You don't have to be a big shot to be Bogert's friend," was the view of my dad, a "working man" who as a chauffeur had known many "big shots" over the years.

"He's a good man. You can trust him" was Dad’s explanation of why it was common knowledge that "working people" in town loved Bogert, the community leader/cowboy who put Palm Springs on the map. Dad loved his sense of humor, too, and the stories that circulated around town about Bogert's courage in some very tough situations.

It’s a long road from home in Section 14 to graduate school at a noted university, and all the benefits since received from a good education.

I credit the excellent teachers I had in Palm Springs public schools, plus the generous help of many good-hearted people living here. On my gratitude list, Bogert’s encouragement is a "standout,” and I am just one of many he faithfully inspired.

All should read Tracy Conrad’s excellent review of the life of Palm Springs great, Charles Jordan (July 11, 2021) and you will see the inspiring impact Bogert had on his life as well.

If Charles Jordan were alive today, no doubt he would be speaking again of the life-changing support given to him, a young Black man whose brilliant career in public service began in Palm Springs. He was always grateful to Bogert, and so am I.

The story of Bogert’s positive impact on the lives of others is a work of art embodied in a magnificent statue.

The honor is well earned, the gift of a grateful community. To dishonor this statue and Bogert by its removal would be a disgrace to the city, not the man.

Bogert died in 2009. He doesn’t need the statue. We do.

It represents decades of gratitude for a true public servant, a devoted man with a big heart. He loved this community throughout his lifetime with loyalty, purpose, energy, ideas, fun and good humor. That’s why he still matters and why we write.

Doni (Donivee) Ellison Hubbard graduated from Palm Springs High School in 1959 and returned to the desert years later to research trails on horseback. She now lives in Rancho Mirage.