We all remember bosses we've had over the years.
We
all
remember
bosses
we
've
had
over
the
years
.
But some bosses, for one reason or another, stand out above the rest.
But
some
bosses
,
for
one
reason
or
another
,
stand
out
above
the
rest
.
Christy Bulkeley was one of those bosses.
Christy
Bulkeley
was
one
of
those
bosses
.
Christy was the young publisher at the small Upstate New York newspaper where I worked 35 years ago, one of the first female publishers in the USA.
Christy
was
the
young
publisher
at
the
small
Upstate
New
York
newspaper
where
I
worked
35
years
ago
,
one
of
the
first
female
publishers
in
the
USA
.
I was green as a reporter.
I
was
green
as
a
reporter
.
A feminist of the first order, she believed women were equal to men, that newspapers could be run by women.
A
feminist
of
the
first
order
,
she
believed
women
were
equal
to
men
,
that
newspapers
could
be
run
by
women
.
More than a few old newspapermen didn't believe what Christy believed, and I'll make it clear that we didn't always get along.
More
than
a
few
old
newspapermen
did
n't
believe
what
Christy
believed
,
and
I
'll
make
it
clear
that
we
did
n't
always
get
along
.
The maddest I ever saw her was when I wrote a profile of Helen Hayes, referring to the famous actress as Miss Hayes.
The
maddest
I
ever
saw
her
was
when
I
wrote
a
profile
of
Helen
Hayes
,
referring
to
the
famous
actress
as
Miss
Hayes
.
She went angry.
She
went
angry
.
The title "Miss" was forbidden at the newspaper.
The
title
``
Miss
''
was
forbidden
at
the
newspaper
.
Christy was a Ms and would remain one, even after marrying.
Christy
was
a
Ms
and
would
remain
one
,
even
after
marrying
.
She stood out in a crowd, which perhaps was what made her seem awkward in social settings.
She
stood
out
in
a
crowd
,
which
perhaps
was
what
made
her
seem
awkward
in
social
settings
.
She had short red hair, smoked cigarettes that swung from her very long fingers, and dressed in a style all her own.
She
had
short
red
hair
,
smoked
cigarettes
that
swung
from
her
very
long
fingers
,
and
dressed
in
a
style
all
her
own
.
She also had the habit of crossing her fingers if you were talking to her.
She
also
had
the
habit
of
crossing
her
fingers
if
you
were
talking
to
her
.
Obviously it reminded her to ask a certain question once you were done talking.
Obviously
it
reminded
her
to
ask
a
certain
question
once
you
were
done
talking
.
It seemed to work for her.
It
seemed
to
work
for
her
.
But she was always fair, she praised good work, was happy when the staff put out an extra effort.
But
she
was
always
fair
,
she
praised
good
work
,
was
happy
when
the
staff
put
out
an
extra
effort
.
She was a good sport, too.
She
was
a
good
sport
,
too
.
Every Halloween I had a party.
Every
Halloween
I
had
a
party
.
One year I dressed as Christy.
One
year
I
dressed
as
Christy
.
I wore a red wig.
I
wore
a
red
wig
.
I smoked a cigarette.
I
smoked
a
cigarette
.
I found a pair of knee high boots and a flowered blouse and I walked around with crossed fingers.
I
found
a
pair
of
knee
high
boots
and
a
flowered
blouse
and
I
walked
around
with
crossed
fingers
.
It was an annual event where many arrived uninvited.
It
was
an
annual
event
where
many
arrived
uninvited
.
I never knew who would show up.
I
never
knew
who
would
show
up
.
It was a night of surprises, and what a surprise it was when Christy appeared at my door.
It
was
a
night
of
surprises
,
and
what
a
surprise
it
was
when
Christy
appeared
at
my
door
.
I stared at her.
I
stared
at
her
.
She stared at me, then broke the silence.
She
stared
at
me
,
then
broke
the
silence
.
"The blouse is all wrong," she said.
``
The
blouse
is
all
wrong
,
''
she
said
.
We all remember bosses we've had over the years. But some bosses, for one reason or another, stand out above the rest. Christy Bulkeley was one of those bosses. Christy was the young publisher at the small Upstate New York newspaper where I worked 35 years ago, one of the first female publishers in the USA. I was green as a reporter.  A feminist of the first order, she believed women were equal to men, that newspapers could be run by women. More than a few old newspapermen didn't believe what Christy believed, and I'll make it clear that we didn't always get along. The maddest I ever saw her was when I wrote a profile of Helen Hayes, referring to the famous actress as Miss Hayes. She went angry. The title "Miss" was forbidden at the newspaper. Christy was a Ms and would remain one, even after marrying.  She stood out in a crowd, which perhaps was what made her seem awkward in social settings. She had short red hair, smoked cigarettes that swung from her very long fingers, and dressed in a style all her own.  She also had the habit of crossing her fingers if you were talking to her. Obviously it reminded her to ask a certain question once you were done talking. It seemed to work for her.  But she was always fair, she praised good work, was happy when the staff put out an extra effort. She was a good sport, too. Every Halloween I had a party. One year I dressed as Christy. I wore a red wig. I smoked a cigarette. I found a pair of knee high boots and a flowered blouse and I walked around with crossed fingers. It was an annual event where many arrived uninvited. I never knew who would show up. It was a night of surprises, and what a surprise it was when Christy appeared at my door. I stared at her. She stared at me, then broke the silence. "The blouse is all wrong," she said.