When Ann Baum Sakowitz passed away in January at the remarkable age of 96 ½ years, she had lived an extraordinary life filled with golden opportunities, glamour and much love and affection. Once courted by Hollywood, Ann was more than just a pretty face. She valued most her roles as mother, wife and confidante at the side of her husband, Bernard Sakowitz — president and CEO of the storied Texas-based department stores Sakowitz.
The couple met while Ann was a student at Rice University. She first encountered the patrician Wharton grad, Bernard, when he spied her at a party in Houston. Although seven years her senior, Bernard approached the sparkling blonde and asked her on a date for the following Friday night. According to her son, Robert Sakowitz, “She looked at him and said, ‘You must be kidding, that’s next week. I’m already booked up.’” Back in the day, the social swell always had a full dance card. Her son recalls, “[She] had an electric personality. When she walked into the room you knew she was there.” Her curt answer neither deterred nor intimidated Bernard. The popular bachelor promptly responded, “I don’t give anyone more than a week’s notice.” A few weeks later, they ran into one another again. He gave a little, she gave a little, and somewhere in the middle they met, fell in love, married and had two children. Their union would last 48 memorable years. “Lover,” as Ann affectionately called her husband, came to fully rely on his wife’s advice and intuition. “She was one of those people you could go to and talk to about what was going on in your life,” says Robert. “She was a very good judge of character. Dad would never hire anyone without passing it by her first.”
Her daughter, Lynn Sakowitz Wyatt, agrees, “She was a strong, confident woman. She voiced her opinion no matter what. She’d disagree with Daddy, and that was fine … They set a brilliant example of togetherness. But they weren’t afraid to argue or disagree with one another either.” Robert adds, “She was one of those extraordinary women who could tell you with such charm, ‘You’re full of it.’”
Like so many adoring mothers, Ann kept albums full of photos of her children and later grandchildren. End tables and the walls of her home were scattered with framed photographs. “What I liked,” says Wyatt, “is that she realized the faults of her children. She’d always say, ‘Just because they’re my children doesn’t mean I think they’re perfect’ … Yet she was always there for my brother and me. If we had some problem, she’d talk with us about it and build up our confidence.”
Shortly after the birth of their first child, the Sakowitzes moved from their Sunset residence to 3533 MacGregor Drive in Riverside, a fashionable part of Houston where the couple commissioned Joe Finger — the architect responsible for Houston’s Art Deco–styled City Hall — to design a nearly 10,000-square-foot Southern white colonial on six acres. It was here that Ann blossomed into the role of family matriarch. She planted a victory garden to grow fruits and vegetables during the war and erected a pigeon house filled with all sorts of fowl. Robert says, “My favorite picture of her is her holding a basket of produce, wearing a worn straw crop hat, her shirt stained with perspiration and a big smile across her face.”
The MacGregor house, with its ample staff, was perfect for entertaining. The colorful couple often played host to a cast of intriguing personalities, from visiting designers whose labels filled the Tony Sakowitz stores to Hollywood royalty such as Louis B. Mayer and Kirk Douglas and musical and cultural icons including Tommy Dorsey and Martha Graham. In 1965, the couple moved to a glamorous 5,000-square-foot penthouse in an octagonal high-rise at 5050 Woodway — after a headline-making third break-in at the MacGregor house.
As the number of Sakowitz stores expanded across the Southwest, Ann assisted with buying in the gift department. “She’d go on buying trips with Daddy,” remembers Wyatt. But in 1981, Ann was suddenly left a widow when Bernard succumbed to a massive stroke. Ann carried on brilliantly for almost three decades longer. When others tried to play matchmaker, she’d reply, “Frankly, I’ve had the best, and I’m not looking for any other man but a handyman.”
During those subsequent years, her circle of intimates widened. She enjoyed the company of both contemporaries and new friends who were decades younger. As Ann grew older and suffered chronic back pain, her daughter marveled at how her mother always looked younger and prettier than all the others. “One of her favorite mottos was: ‘It could always be worse,’” says Wyatt.
This down-to-earth woman — who loved Russian classic music, collected stamps, wore her favorite Fracas fragrance everyday and voraciously read four to five books a week — left an indelible mark on all she met, touching their lives with her thoughtfulness, sage advice and legendary firecracker spirit.
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Once courted by Hollywood, Ann was more than just a pretty face. She valued most her roles as mother, wife and confidante at the side of her husband, Bernard Sakowitz