I’m not sure exactly when I first met Keith Birkenfeld, but I think it was in the 1960s when Gladys Aylward came to Bremerton to give a talk at one of the local churches to raise money for her orphanage in China and Keith was escorting her.

Now, if that doesn’t tell you who she is, think of “Inn of the Sixth Happiness.” She was the subject of the book which became a smash hit as a movie, starring Ingrid Bergman as Gladys and Curt Jergens as the Chinese-Dutch general who falls in love with her.

Now, the big, gorgeous Swede Bergman looked nothing like Gladys who was barely 5-feet tall, with kind of a long nose and glasses. She vehemently denied any romance with anybody but was proud of the fact that a Chinese mandarin, played in the movie by Robert Donat, had become a Christian through her influence although he was later murdered by the Communists. She also said she never made a dime off the movie. It was about her, but she didn’t write it and wasn’t in it.

Anyway, there was Keith, squiring Miss Aylward around. I don’t remember how he got acquainted with her, but she may have been the first celebrity in which he had three loves: teaching, he was an instructor in Bellevue until heart surgery sidelined him; politics, he worked for the Republican party all his life and once fired his accountant when he found out he’d voted for Clinton, and the thrill of consorting with the likes of Bob Hope, Ginger Rogers, Gene Autry, Robert Stack, Sonny Bono, Frederick Lowe, Dinah Shore, Mary Martin and on and on.

He was an aide to fellow Bainbridge Islander Congressman Tom Pelly who was elected with Eisenhower in 1952. Keith so impressed the president, he was invited to visit Ike at his place in Palm Springs when he left the presidency. Keith went and so enjoyed it that he spent winters there for most of the rest of his life. He was quickly accepted into the Hollywood crowd and became one of those single men prized by hostesses to escort unescorted ladies to dinners, etc.

He also was an attentive son and after the death of his father, Cal Birkenfeld, took care of his mother, Isabelle, until her death. She sometimes accompanied him to Palm Springs.

I saw him often through politics, and he called me regularly with his adventures, which always turned out better than expected. I called him Mr. Serendipity.

He asked me years ago to write his obituary when the time came and I agreed. It turned out to be humongously long because he was constantly updating it. One of my favorite “it could only happen to Keith” stories I couldn’t squeeze in was this one.

Keith traveled a lot and he had been in France and boarded a train for Dover for the ride up to London. It was packed and he had to walk through many cars to find a seat. When he finally found one, he sat and read awhile, then noticed the conversation of the couple across the aisle from him. Pardon me, he said, I’ve been in non-English speaking countries for a couple of weeks now; it’s nice to hear English spoken again, and an American accent.

We’re Americans, they said. Are you from the United States? Keith asked. Yes, they said.

I’m from Washington state, said Keith. We are too, they said.

Well, said Keith, I’m from a place near Seattle. We’re from near Seattle, they said.

I’m from Kitsap County, he said. We’re from Bremerton, they said.

You are? Where in Bremerton? Oyster Bay, they said.

Oyster Bay, said Keith, my folks live at Oyster Bay, the Calvin Birkenfelds.

I had lunch with your mother last month, said the woman.

Serendipity struck again. Keith had a reputation for being a shrewd real estate investor who was tight as a stick with his money and died a multimillionaire, but he gave it all away to charity. I wonder who the Big Guy sent to meet him at the Pearly Gates. I’d like to think it was a delegation of stars who had gone before.

Adele Ferguson can be reached at P.O. Box 69, Hansville, WA 98340.