The Tune Inn will never be the same. That statement was emphatically underlined by the close to 100 people who, over two hours on July 3, crammed into Capitol Hill’s famed “dive” bar. The bar was overflowing with not just people, but tears as well. They were there to mourn, pay tribute to and celebrate the life of Markie Lydon—aka “Mother Markie.”
Markie, who in the 1970s worked in Congress for first Representative, later Senator Larry Pressler, was part of The Tune team for 48 years. She died in late June, aged 78. Her sudden death shocked and saddened in equal measure.
The Board of the Eastern Market PennMark Condo where Markie lived, sent out a message that read: “We’d like to express our sadness and condolences upon the news of our friend and neighbor Markie Lydon’s passing. As many of you know, Markie was a pivotal part of the Tune Inn. She was a stalwart employee, whose personality and character were part of the fabric of the famed Capitol Hill bar. On July 3rd, the Tune is hosting A Tribute to Markie from 3:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m. Please feel free to join the gathering at The Tune and share your memories of our wonderful friend and neighbor, who is going to be tremendously missed by the PennMark community.” Many residents turned up.
Her sister Linda, brother Charley and sister-in-law Susan, who had flown in from South Dakota and Oregon, were overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and respect on display at The Tune. Feelings made evident in the slew of stories told about Markie. “It was incredible to see so many people and hear their stories” Charley said. “Made us realize how liked and loved Markie was.” Linda added: “A wonderful mixture of laughter, tears, thoughtful recollections and love …. mostly love.”
One by one Markie’s fans, friends, neighbors, and colleagues (past & present) got to their feet to tell tales about how she touched and changed their lives. The stories had the gathering in tears and fits of knowing laughter: her wry humor; her to-the-point facetious put-downs and sharply delivered sarky comments; her kindness to those going through a tough time; her generosity to dogs who stopped dead in their tracks as they were walked by The Tune. They knew Markie would appear with a treat.
Her Tune Inn fame was acknowledged, and cemented, in print, 11 years ago. One of her greatest fans was the legendary journalist Howard Fineman, who died just a couple of weeks before she did. On the re-opening of The Tune, after the fire that nearly destroyed it, he wrote a piece for the HuffPost saying how happy he was to see his favorite member of staff was still there—the “crusty-motherly Markie Lydon.” He talked about how over the decades she had “helped usher generations of Hill staffers, lobbyists, reporters and young House members into more or less responsible full adulthood.” He revealed how she told him “they call me Mother Markie.”
One of the most poignant moments came when her ex-husband Mac, who had traveled from Florida, let everyone know that Markie was still a special part of his life—that their divorce was not the end of their love. And for the owner of The Tune, Lisa Nardelli, great-granddaughter of Joe Nardelli who opened the bar in 1947, the gathering was painful and joyous. Again, laughter and smiles broke through the grief as Lisa looked back on how Markie had been a huge, special part of her life, her family, since she was a child.
Markie was born and grew up in rural South Dakota, near the small town of Arlington. When she died I went onto You Tube to listen to a favorite song: Doris Day, as Calamity Jane (movie 1953) singing “Take Me Back to the Black Hills.” The Black Hills of Dakota. Markie is now home. Her ashes scattered on the undulating beauty of the plains—where, as the song says, “the pines are so high that they kiss the sky above” —of her family’s farm. But she will always, in the nicest possible way, be part of The Tune Inn.
