John Margenot dead at 98

John served as First Selectman practically forever, and although he had an annoying tendency to deflect decisions to “committees” where they’d be studied to death and ultimately die, unmourned, the tactic worked, as shown by his re-election, term after term, by citizens who liked his style of governance. As did I, except when I was representing clients whose interests were being deferred. But John was always a gentleman, always ready to listen, and just a genuinely nice guy - and in truth, some of my clients’ demands were ideas best buried and forgotten anyway.

My all-time favorite memory of our First Selectman occurred one summer in the mid-80s, early 90s, when massive schools of bluefish herded millions of bunker into Cos Cob Harbor and up against the dam, where, as will happen, the bunkers used up the available oxygen in the water, suffocated, and died. After a few days baking in the hot, hot August sun, the stench was horrendous — if you’d forgotten to roll up your windows when crossing over the Route One bridge, you’d remember quite smartly, for sure.

Neighbors up and down the harbor, Riverside and Cos Cob alike, were, understandably, screaming for relief and demanded that the town send in, at huge expense, earthmoving equipment, workers and trucks to scrape up the tons of rotting, stinking piscatorial flesh, and relieve them of their burden, but Margenot, careful steward of the taxpayers’ money that he was, refused, and as was his wont, deferred to a higher authority, saying “God put them there, God will take them away.”

Which, eventually, God did. And now John’s off to thank Him and is, presumably, already giving him tips on how to govern large groups of disputatious people. God speed, John, and thanks for all you did for the town and for treating, sometimes gently guiding, obnoxious young lawyers like myself whenever we wandered into your office unannounced and without appointment. You brought Mayberry to Greenwich, and did it well.