IN MEMORIAM
Elisavietta “Lisa” Ritchie (6/29/1932 – 1/13/2025), former WWPH president and prolific, award-winning author, is remembered by her press-mates with love and affection:
I had the enormous privilege of entering Washington Writers’ Publishing House as a fiction author during Elisavietta Ritchie’s tenure in the “Fictioneer” Division. It is staggering to remember her dauntless work as one of WWPH’s early “hippie poets,” and her years of handling piles of physical manuscripts, responding individually to each submitter, hosting endless launch parties at their home on Macomb Street, and otherwise welcoming all with her Russian grace and elegance.
Indeed, fellow walkers on the literary paths she trod found in Lisa Ritchie a tireless compatriot and steward, cheering us on with her signature élan. Many times she welcomed my family and me to their bucolic Jack Bay House, filled with her and Clyde’s immersive writings and vast literary library. For all of this and so much more, I am awash with gratitude and love.
May her beloved husband Clyde Farnsworth and all of their families and the legions of poets, writers, readers, students, friends, and other beneficiaries of her abundant hospitality be comforted by her legacy. — Elizabeth Bruce
She was a fine-featured, disheveled, golden-haired Russian princess poet, her plummy accent and Old World manners adorning a lavish, bohemian heart. Her house/salon on Macomb was replete with books, tarnished silver objets, sweets on Limoges plates, wine, tea in filigree glasses. At her crowded and frequent literary parties you might find yourself chatting with the guy who’d fixed her sink and was curious to meet actual writers. She’d dig out your manuscript from a sliding pile and cry, “Here! The mot juste!” When I assumed the presidency of WWPH and emailed Lisa about recycling some of the cartons and cartons of remaindered copies, she replied, horrified: “We’ll line our tombs with books!’ Kathleen Wheaton, WWPH President 2014-2022
Though I met Lisa later in her life, she still had the spirit and energy of a young bohemian, and it was a beautiful thing to be a part of her literary circle, however briefly. I attended numerous gatherings at Lisa’s house, including my first introduction to WWPH, where we talked Bulgarian poetry (!), among other things. She and Clyde were the best of hosts, and her warmth was a wonderful welcome to WWPH and the DC literary community. I will always remember and cherish her experience and endless curiosity, her generous support for other writers and for the larger literary community, even as I mourn her passing. — Holly Karapetkova
Elisavietta (Lisa) Ritchie’s passing marks the end of an era for many of the older members of WWPH. In 1977, Lisa, Hastings Wyman and myself, all young redheads then, had the honor of having our first books published by WWPH. In addition to serving as president for many years, Lisa was the heart of WWPH.
She hosted numerous parties over numerous years in her lovely house on McComb St. A shovel hidden by a beautiful red paisley shawl on top of her baby grand surprised me one evening when I was helping her to get ready for a party. But it probably shouldn’t have, as Lisa was full of surprises. She loved to bring people together and delighted in telling how Patric Pepper and I got together there for the first time–partly true and partly not, but Lisa never bothered with details. She was too busy having a good time, writing poetry, throwing parties and living life!!! She also hosted overnights at her country house in southern Maryland, where she passed away. I remember picking blueberries there and making a cobbler, which we all devoured. That same night, it was beastly hot and Shirley Cochrane and I went downstairs from the room we were sharing to find the parlor full of overheated guests, some with a bottle of whiskey which was passed around. We sat under the stars and waited for a cooling breeze. Lisa delighted in being a hostess and was a good one.
That’s a little of how life was with Lisa–full of surprises, delights, people, joy and, always, poetry.–Mary Ann Larkin
With tears in my eyes, I write this message. My first poet friend in WASHINGTON, DC in 1968, was LISA. We met as we were both published in Will Inman’s KAURI MAGAZINE (American University). She was my first poetry connection after I arrived from the West Coast in ’66.
We conferred and put on DC’s first poetry reading (outside of the Library of Congress) at the old POTOMAC THEATER on Kennedy Street in Washington DC. William Jay Smith came (then US POET LAUREATE.) Since that time, we have bonded at the heart. Now my heart is torn in half. So many memories over the years. Some are unbelievable and, if printed, would be claimed impossible to even be fiction, but joyous, funny, sweet.
We’ve all lost a pure spirit in human form, who will never come again. Of the 1,000 thoughts I have, I must share this because it is so typical of Lisa. In 1972 the great poet Judson Jerome was to visit Washington DC. (He authored the book “The Poet and The Poem,” and allowed me to use that title for my radio series in 1977 when it premiered.) Well, Jud had nowhere to stay, and Lisa said he should stay at her McComb house, but ‘she’d be out of town.’ So ‘there was a key under the rock by the front door and would be please take care of the cats.’ No one like her in the world. Ever before and ever again.
When we had meetings at her home, years later, she’d throw sheets over all the tables so as to conceal the piles of books and paraphernalia, It felt like the most natural décor because it was Lisa. And her sense of generosity, always present, makes me ache with love. At 11 pm one snowy evening, when Ken and I had to return to West Virginia, we were going out the door and she said, ‘wait you need something to sustain you.’ And started cutting vegetables for stew. I wish we had stayed now. I love you, Lisa, my White Russian Poet.– Grace Cavalieri
WWPH Books by Elisavietta Ritchie:
In Haste I Write You This Note: Stories & Half-Stories, winner of the premiere Washington Writers’ Publishing House Fiction Competition (2000), and now available as an ebook. Raking The Snow won the Washington Writer’s Publishing House Poetry Prize (1982). Interviews with Elisavietta Ritchie are archived at the George Washington University’s Melvin Gelman Library, Special Collections Her “Advice to a Daughter” was originally published in the Washington Writers’ Publishing House’s 20th-anniversary anthology, Hungry As We Are:
