I Remember

            Obituaries on August 14 celebrated the lives of two people I knew and admired.

            The first was Johnny Pesky, the veritable icon of the Boston Red Sox. I started following the Red Sox in 1948 when Pesky was the Sox third baseman and continued admiring him as he became coach, manager, and all-around ambassador for the team he loved. After admiring him for sixty plus years, I felt I knew him. I especially remember the time the Red Sox were staying in Detroit's Pontchartrain Hotel, as I was, and Pesky was entertaining a group of younger players in the lobby with stories of Ted Williams and Bobby Doerr and the glory days of the 40s and 50's. I stood and listened in awe. He was a truly special baseball man and an even better person. He will be missed.
            The other was Helen Gurley Brown who revolutionized women's magazines during her years as editor of Cosmopolitan Magazine. I knew Helen personally while working for Hearst Magazines in the 70s. Even though she was a fabulous success and a great star in the magazine world, she was a lovely person who cared for and appreciated every person around her. I was one of those people.
            One morning in 1970 Kate MIllett and a band of feminist extremists moved in and occupied Helen's office at the corner of 57th Street and Broadway in protest of an article in Cosmopolitan they had found offensive. Hearst Magazines President Dick Deems burst into my office and asked me and a co-worker to get over to Helen's office to take control of the situation. My colleague went up to her office, but I stayed outside the building's entrance, because Deems had said that Helen had not arrived yet and, for her safety, should not be allowed upstairs.
            Sure enough, I caught sight of her heading in my direction along 57th Street. I hurried over to her, swung her around, and told her she shouldn't go to her office because of the occupiers. While I was explaining the situation to her, we realized we were being followed closely by a rather large woman who had been posted at the building's entrance, ostensibly watching for Helen as I had been. Reacting to the threat, Helen took us into a building on the corner of 57th and 7th Avenue where, she said, she knew the people at the MCI radio station on the third floor. The tail followed us into the elevator and stood behind us as we rode up.
            The elevator doors opened to MCI's floor, and Helen walked out into a mass of people, including several New York City police officers. I found out later that the police were there to provide protection for a Saudi prince who was being interviewed on radio. Perfect. I blocked  the tail to prevent her from following Helen. The doors closed. Helen was safe, and the threat fizzled.
            The next day Helen's secretary came to my office with a package for me. In it was a bottle of wine and a note. It said, "To my favorite bodyguard. Helen." She had not forgotten.
            Neither have I.