Betty Snipper Obituary

Betty J. Snipper

Elizabeth Jane, known to everyone as Betty, was born in San Francisco on February 16, 1923, to Ricardo Artiga and Mercedes McIntyre. Betty passed away peacefully on March 26, 2013 at her residence at the San Francisco Towers. She was preceded in death by her beloved husband Martin Snipper, former San Francisco Arts Commission Director, and her daughter Marguerite H. Hamilton. She is survived by her two daughters Eve Hamilton and Joan Zandona; step-son Rossi Snipper; grandchildren Alex P. Hamilton, Joshua J. Gonzales, Eric A. Zandona, Julie Plaut, and Karen Berger; and eight great-grandchildren.

Betty was very proud of her contribution during WWII as a Shuffleboard Pilot (person who charts aircraft movement at military headquarters) in Hawaii. After the war, she served as a flight attendant in El Salvador. Betty had an unquenchable exuberance for life, enjoying the arts and traveling with her husband. She celebrated life whenever there was an opportunity with friends and family. Betty will be remembered for her excellence in every area of her life, whether it was cooking, party planning, landscaping, or remodeling.

A memorial will be held at a future time. Interment will be at Hills of Eternity Memorial Park, in Colma, California.

To plant trees in memory, please visit the Sympathy Store.

Published by San Francisco Chronicle from Mar. 28 to Apr. 1, 2013.

Memories and Condolences
for Betty Snipper

5 Entries

Luciana Llort

April 3, 2013

We are going to miss Betty very much, she was full of life and joy,she came to spend time with us here in El Salvador and we enjoyed her visits, she was so entusiatic to every thing. We will remember her always with love, and lotes of good memories.
Balta años Luciana
San Salvador, El Salcador

edward fernandez

April 1, 2013

I met Betty a few years ago, not long after Martin had passed, when I learned, by chance, that she lived in the home on Ashbury Street, where my mother and uncle spent their early childhood years. I left my business card on her door; eventually, she called and learned that her home had been my mother's childhood home. That was all she needed to open her doors to my mother and uncle and me and my brothers and my cousins...We visited her there on several occasions. She was in mourning, alone in that huge and wonderful showplace of art and fond memories. She was effusively warm and welcoming to all of us. It meant a lot to her (and to us) to share her home (and Martin's studio and garden) and memories of life in it with people who had inhabited the same space. She and my mother acted like sisters and they clambered their way around the house exchanging memories: my mother as a child playing hide and seek and Betty as a wife and mother rearing a family and creating that home with the love of her life. My mother has a family photograph taken on the front stoop in about 1930, with her grandfather peering out the window. It delighted Betty. Betty walked us through every room and spoke about every piece of art Martin had created, told stories of when and where they had collected the amazing variety of folk art from their world travels, the absolutely uncanny recreation of the Arabesque mosque ceiling art on the top floor. Martin lived on in that home; he had been so full of life that to be only left with the wealth of his creations, to be without him in that place.

My mother relived her childhood; Betty relived her marriage. It was a serendipitous gift of intimate coincidence.

Eventually, Betty sold the home and moved to Pine Street. She took with her a large framed photo of the Ashbury house, taken when it stood alone atop the hill. She wanted very much for my mother to have it. We spoke on the phone several times this year as she called, repeatedly, to ensure that I would pick up that photograph. On March 17th, two weeks ago yesterday, I met Betty in her residence lobby. She sat in a chair waiting for me with the huge framed photograph carefully wrapped in tissue, in a large shopping bag. She was dressed, as always, elegantly. She was so happy to see me, so warm and loving and relieved that her home would once again be shared with her "sister." If she was ailing, I could not tell; she did not show it. I am so saddened to learn that she had so little time left. But her family should know that she gave me something precious: an indelible memory of human authenticity, love and kindness. I will miss her.

Like good cousins, they loved teasing each other, especially about who was older. They were one month apart.

Patricia Elena Morales

April 1, 2013

Tía Betty and my dad Roberto (Jan 6, 1923-May 10, 2012) in San Salvador.

Patricia Elena Morales

April 1, 2013

March 29, 2013

I will miss my aunt Betty. Enjoyed many laughs with her and our family at the food feasts and gatherings. We lift a glass of wine to our many fond memories of Betty.
Harold and Christy Persily

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