Nina S. Marsh

Nina Marsh Obituary

April 26, 1932 - July 24, 2020 Nina Skolsky Marsh, elder daughter of syndicated columnist and film producer, Sidney Skolsky, peacefully died July 24, 2020 of natural causes. She was 88.Born in New York City on April 26, 1932, Marsh came west the following year with her parents, Estelle Lorenz Skolsky and Sidney Skolsky, when her father, a popular writer for the New York Post was sent to Hollywood to report on the movies. After growing up around film sets and stars (she was a guest at two of Shirley Temple's legendary birthday parties), Nina attended Scripps College and then became a Theatre Arts major at UCLA.Through the late fifties and early sixties, she worked in television and advertising as a secretary and production assistant for such companies as David Wolper, Fred Niles and ABC TV, where she met Richard Marsh, to whom she was briefly married. She moved to New York in the mid sixties where she began working in the health care field as a secretary to private physicians – a focus shift which stood her in good stead when she returned to Los Angeles at the end of the 70's. She spent the last part of her career as a Department manager for the Pediatric Interns at Cedars Sinai Medical Center. Once she retired, she continued part-time as Dr. Steven Stanley's dental office manager up until just a few years ago.She had been a regular volunteer at Camp Rainbow. And due to her passion for Architecture she also volunteered at Hollyhock House , including serving on their Board of Directors. This was where a friendship was bonded with Barry Storch and Van Martin. She enjoyed attending regular performances at the Colony Theatre in Burbank with her dear friend Jim Bell, and in seeing all the latest films at the Motion Picture Academy's weekly screenings with her other longtime friend Susan Perkins. Nina also adored decades of cocktails and fabulous meals with her buddy Lew Irwin. A talented cook and generous hostess, Nina was especially devoted to her friends and family. She will be forever loved and sorely missedShe is survived by: her Cousins Lisa Mitchell, Debbie and Mark Hammer, Steve and Lara Rothenberg, Valerie and Christopher Cooper, Ellen and Pat Plugge, Andy and Nancy Jones, plus her many "lil" cousins, and dear friends who cherished her humor and love of life. The family wishes to express appreciation to Nina's wonderful caregivers at County Villa Terraces. Her younger sister, a publicist, Steffi Sidney Splaver, died in 2010. Donations in honor of Nina can be sent to Canine Companions for Independence Due to Covid family and friends will celebrate Nina's life near her birthday April 2020. On-line memories can be shared by vising www.Legacy.com

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Published by Los Angeles Times from Sep. 24 to Sep. 27, 2020.

Memories and Condolences
for Nina Marsh

3 Entries

Lois Kuperman

February 26, 2021

I first met Nina working as a Continuing Medical Education Assistant Coordinator at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. Nina would drop by my office once a week with her list of Pediatric residency educational conferences. I will always remember Nina for the high energy she had towards selling Avon products, but most of all as a the Pediatric Residency Coordinator. Nina’s was rewarded through the years by many of the resident’s strong passionate feelings towards her and their interest in keeping an ongoing relationship after they graduated from the Pediatric Residency program.

I remember that Nina had a strong robust will to live life as it came in a very positive way. Every time we would meet for lunch she would always dig in her purse and present me and others with little Avon gifts. I will always remember Nina to be upbeat no matter how hard it was financially living as a single woman in Los Angeles. I remember Nina’s love for her sister, friends, family members and the pride she had for her parents. Even though I lost contact with Nina in the last several years, she has left me with wonderful memories of the time we spent together at Cedars and outside of Cedars. I will miss her and feel a great loss in her passing.

Lois Kuperman

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Beth-Ann Herschaft

September 28, 2020

Nina was my first neighbor when I moved out of my parents’ home. She became a lifelong friend, big sister, and inspiration. Her life was special to all, and should be celebrated every day by those who of us who loved her.

Lew Irwin

September 27, 2020

I posted this earlier today on Facebook:

When you reach old age -- just like THAT -- and are still in good health, managing to pay your bills and otherwise enjoy life, there's nothing more disturbing than receiving news that another old friend or close relative has died. (I shudder when people evade using that word and substitute "passed on" or "passed" or "departed" -- although I do kind of like the puzzling term "bought the farm," not that I'd ever use it myself.) My mother was 98 when she died, outliving every other friend and family member of her generation, a significant but hollow achievement -- like winning a race, then looking behind you and seeing no one. According to a statistic I discovered online, fewer than a third of those born in 1934 -- the year I came into existence -- remain alive, and most of the rest of us will have bought the farm within the next four years. (Actually, that term does have a nice ring.) I'm not a religious person. I don't believe I'll wind up in some celestial place after I die and be able to play hit-the-bat with Seymour Gantman the way we did when we were eleven. Or fall asleep at another Lena Horne performance at the Coconut Grove that I attended with Nina Marsh when I was 20. But memories of those untroubled times came suddenly to life as I received word recently that each of them had died. Nina was the sister of my high-school sweetheart Steffi Sydney (née Skolsky). Steffi's family became my second family as we dated through high school and college. And Nina sometimes served as an acceptable substitute whenever Steffi fell ill or had a work commitment (she was an actress) and I had tickets to some movie premiere or play or nightclub act, often handed to me by their father, Sydney Skolsky, a famous gossip columnist for the New York Post (who reportedly was first to dub the trophy handed out by the Motion Picture Academy, the Oscar). We remained friends even after Steffi and I broke up when we were in our early 20s and I had little time for romance because of my workload. (At age 23 I was broadcasting nine hourly 5-minute newscasts and two 15-minute newscasts on the radio and one 15-minute nightly newscast on TV six days a week.) Nina and I both moved to New York to work in the early '60s, and she often invited me over to her apartment for a meal with her pet chihuahua. (Although I rarely eat meat these days, my mouth waters when I remember her roast leg of lamb, in which she embedded numerous cloves of garlic.) We remained friends over the years -- I remained friends with Steffi, too, until her death ten years ago -- usually getting together on her birthday for a baseball game or a movie or a meal at Lawry's or Tam O'Shanter, where they still served her favorite dessert, C.C. Brown's hot-fudge sundae. She'd bring me up-to-date on the lives or deaths of her relatives whom I hadn't seen since I was a kid. But in recent years, it was painful to see her rapid physical and mental decline. Seymour's death the other day was a terrible jolt. He and his twin brother Morton and I were inseparable friends from grammar school through high school, sharing intimate and sometimes awkward experiences as we metamorphosed from children to young adults. We drifted apart after high school but managed to touch base every once in a while to reminisce and discuss the way of the world. Another old friend from our youth, Milt Moritz, the longtime president of the National Association of Theater Owners, often arranged for all of us to get together. I saw them last about a year or so ago when we all had lunch at a hotel in West Los Angeles. As we walked to our cars afterwards, I asked Seymour about his halting gait, and he remarked that he had contracted a terrible-sounding disease that I meant to look up when I returned home, then decided that I'd rather not know about it. Some memories are better left untouched. Indeed, I can't help thinking that someday researchers will find a way to tap into our brains and allow us to re-experience favorite times -- like being 10 years old and playing hit-the-bat with Morty and Seymour. Won't happen, you say? Anything's possible. I'm typing this on my phone, and I'm now driving a Tesla. To quote George Harrison quoting the Goons: "It's all in the mind, you know."

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