Everybody loves and admires Margot Perot.
She is “solid as a rock,” says Davis Hamlin, once of EDS and currently her co-winner of the TACA Silver Cup Award.
She “never changed,” said Morton Meyerson at the 20th anniversary celebration of Perot Systems which he once ran as he did EDS.
Margot sees “people and situations in the best possible light,” adds photographer Laura Wilson.
“I am honored to have been her friend for so many years,” Roger Horchow chimes in.
There is about Margot Perot an aura of uncomplicated kindness, genuine good will,
and contentment as a matter of habit, buttressed by discipline and savvy,
but not an excess of those lest they cloud the natural sunshine of her disposition.
In Margot Perot it’s impossible to discern any of those little foxes that spoil the vines.
For her the vineyard always is in bloom, if only in the imagination of her heart. She is, after all, a realist.
And when it comes to the question of foxes and hedgehogs, my bet, with nothing approaching proof, is that Margot is a hedgehog,
who knows, not many things as foxes do, but one big thing, like the hedgehog conceived of and, I suspect, preferred by Isaiah Berlin.
If true, that one big thing, hidden from the world around her, has governed her life.
Margot Perot was the baby of her family, born in Pittsburgh to a father whose first wife died in the flu epidemic of 1918, leaving him with a five-year-old daughter.
He remarried and four more girls arrived, the last being Margot, adored by all as the youngest always is.
She would have four daughters of her own, plus first-born Ross Perot Jr., reversing the pattern since he, in some respects became the idol of the household.
At least, she admits, those hired to help with the children thought “he could do no wrong,” while Nancy,
Suzanne, Carolyn, and Katherine were admonished “to clean up their rooms.”
Margot grew up mainly in Greensburg, Pennsylvania, where her family moved, then went to Goucher College in Baltimore.
While there she chanced to meet a midshipman 30 minutes away, in Annapolis, at the US Naval Academy. She was a sophomore, he a senior.
His name was Ross Perot from Texarkana and Margot was getting really interested when he graduated and shipped out on a destroyer.
They didn’t see each other for 10 months, but letters flew back and forth across the oceans. She wonders now what to do with them.
For more information: ฮานอยสามัคคี