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Downtown's 'glove lady' became part of city's fabric By JONEL ALECCIA Mail Tribune To most people, she was just "the glove lady," a hunched figure inching her way down Medford sidewalks, outlandish outfits finished always with a pair of perfect white cotton gloves. But to those who knew and cared for Jeanette Marie Royer - and, it turns out, there were many - the 79-year-old sometime homeless woman was a shrewd survivor, a funny character and an independent soul who brought out the best in her community. "She lived as a free spirit and now her spirit is free," said Priscilla Atkin, a caseworker at the state Senior and Disability Services program who worked with Royer for 15 years. Royer died Jan. 31 at Medford Rehabilitation Center, a month after suffering a debilitating stroke, Atkin said. "Jeanette had no family, few friends and lots of people who didn't know her name but recognized her wherever she went," said Atkin. "Everybody in the community knew her. Many people helped her." There were the folks at C.K. Tiffins, the Medford restaurant where Royer ate for free once or twice a day. There was the manager of the Tiki Lodge, Harry Patel, who sometimes let Royer stay even when her Social Security money ran out. There was the owner of Joseph Winans Furniture, Joe Pedrojetti, who for years allowed the frail, gray-haired woman to fill up on courtesy cookies and hot coffee - and to settle down for naps in his leather recliners. "No, I didn't mind. She's done that for years and years," Pedrojetti said. "She was a real mystery to me. She was a real mystery to everyone." Royer remained a mystery to the end, said Atkin. It's not clear where she came from or when, although someone thought she might have been raised in Minnesota. She didn't have a home, preferring to move from one inexpensive hotel to another. She never talked about her past or her family and she didn't like it when people pressed her. "She'd just look away like she didn't know what you were saying," Atkin said. In fact, Royer could be pretty determined about any number of subjects. One cold winter, Atkin offered the woman a long, warm coat donated by a co-worker. "'Nah,' she said, 'I don't want it,'" Atkin recalled. "I don't know if was the wrong color or what." Royer was fussy about her appearance, especially her fingernails, which were manicured - often for free - and polished a bright red beneath her white gloves. She spent her days in motion, riding the bus or hitching rides between Ashland, Medford and Grants Pass, or shuffling down local streets with excruciatingly tiny steps. "I remember how she would stop traffic everywhere she went," Atkin said. Royer didn't care about halting cars any more than she cared about offending benefactors. She wasn't at all shy about demanding what she needed, whether it was a warm place to rest, a ride or 10 bucks, recalled Sharon Schreiber, director of CERVS, a social service agency. "I used to think, maybe she was an old actress," Schreiber said. "She would portray this harmless, helpless old lady and then she'd get into your car and turn into your worst nightmare." Once, after wheedling a startled night watchman into letting her sleep on a couch, she demanded the guard take off her shoes and give her a foot rub, Schreiber said. Royer never caused any real trouble, said Medford Police Lt. Tim George. "There's a certain segment of our population, they're out and about, but they don't harm anyone and they seem to enjoy life better than some of us," George said. "They're part of the fabric of the community." Now, the community's a little poorer, said Barbara Halvorsen, one of several Habitat for Humanity volunteers who visited Royer at the nursing home. "She was a crusty little lady; I had my run-ins with her over the years," she said. "But last month, she was the sweetest person. She was just like your mother." So far, no family members have stepped forward to claim Royer's remains, which were cremated. If no one does, Halvorsen and other volunteers hope to hold a memorial service for the woman familiar to many and known by few. "Did you know she had the nickname 'The Glove Lady?'" Halvorsen said. "I don't want her to just die and disappear off the face of the earth. Her life wasn't what we'd call a lifestyle, but she was a human being." Reach reporter JoNel Aleccia at 776-4465, or e-mail [email protected] Mail Tribune Home | Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. | Dow Jones & Co., Inc. | Privacy | Contact Us Copyright � 2001 Mail Tribune, Inc.