Julie Logan
(1947 - 2016)

Profile:
Julie Logan

Birth:
March 11, 1947

Passing:
May 20, 2016


Memorial
Nick’s eulogy at the service:

Darling Julie, Julie darling.

We were 18. Julie worked the switchboard at a factory in Edmonton, I was a cub reporter for a local paper. We met at mod mecca the Tottenham Royal. As an escape from the greyness of suburban adolescence, you could say we met in heaven. It’s impossible to overstate how magical in our young lives were those nights, Mondays and Thursdays, at the Royal when we danced and heard - for the first time - the soul and r&b classics we know today.

We were blessed to be in teenage prime at such a time. And how blessed was I to have this lovely, sparky, fun loving – and mischievous - girl enter my life.

Each night I’d escort her the short distance to her family home in the streets behind the Royal, and then walk the 2/3 miles home to the flat I shared with my elder sister in Leytonstone.

In my first car, a red mini, we took in the delights of Clacton and the Shangri-La caravan park in nearby St Osyth, our relationship coming to a brief pause when the car broke down and went for scrap. Can’t say if the two events were connected but I suspect so. It would be typically Julie: she knew she was going places - and without a car I wasn’t.

We married at Leyton Register Office on Oct 28, 1967, a Saturday. After a party at Julie’s parents house, we returned that night to the shabby bedsit in Woodford where I was now living, on my own. I’d started at the NME as a junior feature writer only a few weeks before and had to be back at work the following Monday.

As a consolation prize for us not having a honeymoon the editor of the NME gave us tickets to the cabaret and supperclub venue The Talk Of The Town – to see Tom Jones!! Not to our taste musically – we’d seen James Brown at Walthamstow Granada a few months earlier, the pair of us trampolining on the seats in euphoria - but oh how sophisticated we were!

In the bedsit, on Julie’s Dansette we listened repeatedly to “Pet Sounds” and “The Impressions Big 16” LP and kept warm in front of our only other household possession, a 2-bar imitation-coal electric fire We lived on scrambled egg or beans on toast, sometimes embellished with a Kraft cheese slice, until we moved into a one bed rented flat in a block in Leytonstone

Christian was born the following year and Hallie two years later. By then we had bought our own place, a maisonette near the Bakers Arms. It cost £4,250. A friend and colleague at NME had insisted we buy rather than rent. We would never have dreamed of such a thing. No one in my family or Julie’s had owned a house before.

And we’d never been abroad until the NME sent me to cover the opening of a night club in Palma, Majorca. I came back raving about the wonders of ‘abroad’ and so, as finances allowed, the Costas supplanted Clacton. It was the start of Julie’s love of travel.

I remember on those early holidays that every other sign we passed seemed to be advertising strawberries and cream but we always had to divert and hurry on the kids because it was a luxury we couldn’t afford.

As the junior reporter became editor, life was never dull. Rod Stewart could be on the home phone, there were festivals (Christian dressed by Julie in his little mirrored Afghan coat), rock concerts – for Julie the Roxy Music ones were the most enjoyable - and album launches at a time when they were lavish and spectacular.

We shopped at Biba and the Kensington Market almost every weekend and, amusing to recall, in foodie-starved London, the times with Alan and Chrisssie when we would drive all the way to Parsons in Fulham - for spaghetti Bolognese.

When the restaurant boom kicked in we were always among the first through the door of any new establishment. Such good memories. We didn’t know it but Michael of The Eagle worked at Parsons at the time, The Eagle later became a favourite haunt - and Michael and David joined our circle of friends..


We moved from the maisonette to the first of three houses in Wanstead. It was always Julie who pushed for a move, 4/5 years in one place maximum, until our present property that even she seemed to accept might be a challenge to improve on.

There was always a certain restlessness in Julie’s character; she relished a challenge, welcomed change, embraced the new. So she set her sights elsewhere. She wanted a flat in town, on the river, a holiday house abroad, a new look for the house, a Corbusier or Eames chair (she loved a chair), a trip to Mexico, a party. What Julie wanted Julie got. And I have to say they were almost unfailingly the right decisions.

Julie was a wonderful mother. Loving, kind and wise – though I’m unsure to this day how hiring a Rolly-Poly gram for Christian’s 21st birthday fits into that narrative. When the kids were growing up she was the one who got out of bed uncomplainingly to answer their calls in the night, leaving me to slumber on. (I suppose it’s payback that I did the same for her in the terrible final period of her illness.)

In 1980 we launched The Face using our savings, £3,500 or thereabouts, and I don’t recall Julie having any hesitation in agreeing to risk it all on a foolhardy adventure. If she had The Face, Arena, the other magazines, would never have happened.

I’ve spoken many times about how difficult it was in the first 18 months /2 years from publication. In the first few months we were desperately hanging on, clinging to the hope that each issue would bring in sufficient revenue to finance another. We’d had a third child, Max, in 1981 and as a family our future looked anything but secure. There was no staff, initially, just me on the editorial and Julie looking after subscriptions and back issues. She kept a book, hand-written, of all the addresses and hand wrote every envelope, enlisting friends and family including her mother and Hallie to stuff the magazines into envelopes which I would take in the boot of the car to the sorting office in Leytonstone. A spare room of our house in Fitzgerald Rd was a permanent stock room.

Subsequently, as our fortunes improved, Julie moved from home to the office, as Business Manager and then MD, running the accounts and payroll. She helped organize promotions for Arena, represented the magazines at fashion events, and was great with the staff. It wasn’t all glamour; there were many occasions, usually when the office closed during Christmas breaks, when we’d go in to reorganize desks (even cleaning the toilets) as the business expanded and required more space. There were close to 70 employees when we sold the company – I’d promised her we wouldn’t work until we dropped.

So it was hard work but there was enormous fun too: at Face parties in London and New York, encounters with the famous, most pleasurable for Julie the dinners in New York with Bryan Ferry. In the mid-80s, for at least 15 minutes, we were the coolest couple on the planet (to only slightly misquote the Mail On Sunday,) But we were always grounded. Julie was just as happy organizing parties at home at which she was the perfect hostess; a glamorous and fun presence who could light up a room.

I only have to say the words “Oops Upside My Head” to conjure up, for many here, an image of Julie showing the world how to party.

She loved to meet people, host extended family Christmasses, to holiday with friends and family.

I’ve skipped through much of our history because there’s so much of it. Julie had a lot to put up with, most of it down to me. There was the time I buckled mentally under pressure as a young editor of the NME. The nights and weekends I brought work home. The potentially scary summer after I left NME with no prospect of a job, a family to provide for, before the fortuitous adventure that was Smash Hits. There was the life-threatening cancer I contracted in 1990, followed soon after by the libel trial against The Face that threatened to destroy everything we had strived for.

In these dark episodes Julie was my strength; she held the family together in the face of repeated adversity.

But nothing was as tough as our battle with Alzheimer”s. Sally will speak more about this.

So, here’s something lighter.

With our family, friends, together, Julie and I laughed a lot. We had the most wonderful times at our house in Portugal. One night we were playing the name game, where one member of a team gives clues to others to identify a name picked at random. We were on the same side, Julie giving the clues. We might have been drinking..

When I failed to get the name from her clues and time was up, she exploded at me. “How could you not get that, you fool. It’s GOD… AND YOU’LL NEVER MEET HIM!”

Her last few months were heartbreaking, as this evil disease stripped away every shred of her dignity and personality. To see a loved one so diminished is to experience, in rapid succession, waves of utter helplessness, unbounded compassion and unfettered rage.

If there’s a God, and Julie believed there was, then she will meet him. And I tell you this, he should be worried because he’s got some explaining to do…

Guest Book Wall (What is this?)

Hover your mouse over the wall images to see each guest book entry.

Guest Book (24 entries)
For my generous and glamorous auntie Julie! Over the last few weeks I have been remembering so many amazing memories, all have made me smile ... the Christmases we shared were always the best, table presents will always remind me of you, the silly games we used to play, Ferrero roches & stumas, you playing the guitar with your feet always made me laugh so much!! I remember so vividly standing in your kitchen at hollybush hill and you and mum telling me and max that we were going to Disney for Christmas because we passed our swimming test. One of my favourite Julie memories is when you took me and max out for the day and we were having lunch at Fat Sams diner and I had his huge milkshake that I accidentally spilled all down me (I have a vague memory that it was Max's fault :-)) and you took me straight to the gap to get an entire new outfit - I remember being so happy and thinking it was so cool that I had a new outfit from the gap. You were the best auntie to me and I will miss you so much! You are now in a better place and I know that you are somewhere laughing your Julie laugh having a great time. All my love until I see you again - your niece Charlotte xxx
Charlotte (niece )
June 23rd, 2016
My wonderful auntie Julie, how we all miss you so deeply. We've all had time to reflect over the past weeks and I have an abundance of memories that I will cherish forever. Your sense of mischief and fun, always laughing, joking and teasing me, Hannah and Charlotte. The wonderful holidays we all enjoyed together, your huge generosity to us all with surprise gifts when we were burgled and taking me shopping and helping me purchase the most spectacular luminous pink outfit much to mum's horror! I remember our road trip to visit Hallie at university, just the 2 of us laughing all the way and me listening to your incredible stories. The list is endless and so is our love for you. We will forever remember and I know you're now making yourself busy up there with nan. Until we see you again. Love you xxx
Sarah Yeomans (Niece)
June 22nd, 2016
“There is going to be a resurrection......” (Acts 24:15) The pain, the grief, and the feelings of helplessness can seem unbearable. May Jehovah the God of all comfort comfort the Logan family.You are in my prayers.
Marc Knight
June 20th, 2016
I will always remember Julie as one of the most big-hearted, beautiful
people I ever had the privilege to meet.
Tony Parsons
June 18th, 2016
Julie was one of the kindest, loveliest people. She had an infectious sense of humour and was particularly brilliant with people whom others overlooked - she always managed to get Mark laughing and Justin really loved seeing her. She was a great foil for you and I always felt you managed somehow to both anchor and inspire each other in the best way.

(From letter to Nick)
Charles & Caroline Humphries (Friends)
June 18th, 2016
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"Remembering Julie I'll be your memory I said Now your memory is all I have -Nick xxx"
Nick Logan
October 26th, 2016
"Dearest Julie ... The Angel you and nick bought me for my 18th birthday is one of my favourite gives and she sits on top of my Christmas tree every year and I will always think of you when I place her there! You are now my angel in the sky xxx"
Charlotte Yeomans
June 23rd, 2016

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