In Loving Memory

HELEN B. TROY
Founding Publisher
1932-2007

Frosty's Tribute To Helen

Jan. 10, 2008

I was back from Korea in the spring of 1952, attending a McAlester Rockets New York Yankee farm club game. I spotted a friend, Margaret Altman, and took a seat beside her.

She introduced me to Helen Nix. Yes, as corny as it sounds, I was instantly smitten. After the game we went to the White House Cafe for coffee. From that day on, I never missed a game.

We began dating and I knew she was the one for me. [Let me go on record in defense of homely guys everywhere – if you keep talking, a pretty girl will see past your looks.]

The day we were married we rushed to Muskogee where I was a police reporter. I had to work until midnight, but she waited up for me. We left Muskogee for a job in Lawton. We left Lawton for a City Hall reporting job on the superb Tulsa Tribune.

We both overdid the work ethic, but she encouraged me every step of the way, including a State Capital assignment for the Trib, two tours in Washington. [She rose to executive assistant to Rep. Clyde Doyle, D-CA, making well over twice my salary.]

We toured every Civil War battlefield, went to Broadway and had many Virginia weekends – all on her money. [She would correct me, "It's OUR money."]
When I returned to Tulsa as associate editor she went to work for a law firm. Helen typed a phenomenal 90 words a minute and took Gregg shorthand. It wasn't long before she exceeded my salary.

I hated being tied to a desk as associate editor, despite the lovely home in southeast Tulsa and more money than I had ever made.
I talked to Helen again and of course she supported my decision to ask Publisher Jenkin Lloyd Jones if I could go back the State Capital – a job I dearly loved. He reluctantly agreed.

I received a call from Father Johnny Joyce, editor of the Catholic diocesan paper. A Little Council meeting at St. Gregory's had voted to withdraw the paper's subsidy. Did I want the paper?

I told Helen it would be a gamble but she said, “You've always wanted your own paper. You may not get this chance again." Wow! What a woman. I believe that was when we bloomed as a partnership in more ways than marriage.

We started from scratch, with her publishing the paper from a bedroom of our Midwest City home because she wanted to be a homeroom mother for our daughter Marti and son Philip, both students at Ridgecrest Elementary school. [She later goaded me into being president of the PTA.]

I was increasingly in demand across Oklahoma as a public speaker. She handled all the arrangements.

Incredibly, she put the paper in the black in two years, freeing me to work full-time on the Observer. We didn't pretend it was anything but what it is – a small twice-monthly journal of commentary, a genuine journal of free voices.

Then along came an invitation from National Public Radio and I was suddenly a national commentator. I also had seven local stations in Oklahoma paying for my commentary. NPR led to requests for speeches nationally and added to her workload.

For our entire 35 years at the Observer, she carried two briefcases home every workday evening, sitting at the dining room table doing bookwork.

She has been described as sweet and kind, but not many knew of her brilliance.
When the kids went off to OSU we quit taking weeklong vacations and parked the ski boat. We preferred four-day weekends at our favorite retreat, Padre Island. She brought along her pocket calendar in case a call came in about a speech!

We kept winning local, state and national journalism awards – although we never entered anything. A caller once challenged an Observer ad for my speeches, saying he doubted we had won so many awards.

It was a challenge for Helen. She went back through all the records, all the awards – 48 of them by her count – some big, some small. She called the guy back and he apologized.

One of the proudest days of our life together was the evening when the Oklahoma Education Association gave her the Marshall Gregory Award – a coveted annual media honor.

As a proofreader she had no peer. As a critic, she wasn't bossy, she made "suggestions." If I was speeding, she would calmly declare, "The speed limit is 70."

"Isn't that harsh?" she would ask about one of my darts. On one occasion I said it was deserved. She replied, "But do his wife and kids deserve it?" I rewrote it.

She was a far more passionate Democrat than I am, but she was not unaware of the flaws of Democrats in public office. The eternal question she asked in exasperation: "Why do they pander? Do they think Republicans would ever vote for them?"

She was a fiery advocate for women's rights – she knew the sting of discrimination in her own work experience.

Helen had three passions in life: faith, family and the Oklahoma Observer, in that order. Her mother Molly raised three daughters – Mabel, Hazel and Helen – three jewels. Only Hazel remains.

It was going through her checkbook that I learned of the many charities we supported. She was the most generous and the most private person I've ever known.

She was deeply spiritual, upset by the language and violence in today's media. Nudged by her, we walked out of several movies.
I have often wondered if the Observer would have survived if not for her ability to check my Irish temper and her willingness to talk me through political and personal issues.

I was asked how we lasted 54 years and I replied, "If you don't marry your best friend, odds are against a lifetime commitment."

Going through her desk I found a tattered old item she had clipped. It is a fitting tribute to the kind of person she was and her wise counsel which I miss so much.

Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking that I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.
Release me from craving to straighten out everybody's affairs.
Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all – but Thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends.
Keep my mind from the recital of endless details – give me wings to get to the point.
Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.
I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others but help me to enjoy them with patience.
I dare not ask for improved memory but a growing humility and lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memory of others.
Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.
Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places and talents in unexpected people. Give me the grace to tell them so.

Helen, I love you and I look forward to our reunion.

Personal Note

Words cannot begin to express my thanks for the outpouring of sympathy and personal remembrances of Helen. They have flooded in from across the country, including many who knew her only by her telephone voice.

I can't begin to answer them all but know we take them to our hearts.
Please remember us in your prayers, particularly our daughter Marti and son Philip.

We had only three short weeks between the time she went in for an MRI and her death. We didn't tell her it was bone cancer, the same cancer in the same spinal region that took her older sister, Mabel.

Until her final hours she was alert, surrounded by family and the magnificent staff at Oklahoma City's Heart Hospital. Her illness, she told me, was no excuse not to make my speaking engagements!

The neurologist sought to rouse her by shouting her name in her face. No response. When he left the hospital room I shouted in her face, "What is your name?" She softly replied, "I love you."

Those were her last words. She slipped into a pain-free coma and was gone. I felt as though someone had ripped open my chest and ripped out my heart.

She would be thrilled to know of the many gifts to Neighbor for Neighbor in Tulsa and Oklahoma City, the Oklahoma City Jesus House and other charities, including the Special Olympics.

Please continue to support The Observer. She worked so hard for so long to make it a reality.