Elizabeth Livingston Murison
Elizabeth Livingston Murison, or “Miss Murison”, born in New Orleans 24 August, 1857, was Alice Silverman’s beloved teacher for many years, encouraging her, challenging her and in many ways acting as a substitute mother after Alice’s mother died. Alice was almost obsessively attached to her.
Elizabeth’s father owned a large sugar plantation in New Orleans.
Elizabeth owned and presided over “Miss Murison’s School” on the corner of Clay and Pierce Streets in San Francisco, working there for 30 years. Her parents, both from Scotland, were Dr. John Barnett Murison (1816-1870) and Elisabeth Livingstone McGregor (1817-1885). She had 3 siblings, William Alexander (184901904), Grace Ann (1853-1913) and John McGregor (1855-1896). Alice talks about Grace’s death in her 1913 diary.
Miss Murison never married. In 1906 she translated a book called “The Soul of an Artist” (Un Anima Sola), by Neera, supposedly the confessions of a genius of the Italian stage. She traveled to Europe in 1912 with Miss Aimee Raisch. Many young women attended her school.
She died in San Francisco, 21 Jan 1935, at the age of 78. She was buried in the Mount Tamalpais Cemetery in San Rafael, CA where she had bought a plot for herself, in 1898, for $135. Her brother William Alexander Murison, sister Grace Ann Murison and mother Elizabeth McGregor Murison were also buried there.
Alice adored her. Most pages of her diaries, especially the year after her mother’s death are full of mentions of Miss Murison, how kind and good and generous she is.
Newspaper Articles
Historical data
Miss Murison’s sister {Grace} who has been very sick, died. We had graduation exercises at school and Miss Murison was not there. They were very nice, but I missed her.
December 1
Miss Murison looked so sad to-day. She was all in black. I tried to offer her sympathy and she pressed my hand so kindly and sweetly, I love her so dearly. I do hope she loves me just a little bit.
Miss Murison said sometimes she felt like closing school and writing certain things she wanted to write which would take 2 or 3 years and soon the 2 or 3 years would not be left her in which to do her task, but then she said girls like me that understood that towards which she was pointing made her want to keep on for we were her living books. When she says such things I feel I must work and work so as to leave something behind for her to be truly a living book.
Miss Murison said we should be so that we be desired everywhere and give more than we receive by our company. She said too that it is not our books that are important but what we learn should become part of us, part of our being. I asked if she minded my running in that way. She kissed me tenderly and told me to come whenever I liked. How I hate to think of the time when she will be no more.