Twenty-two years ago I had the good fortune of being able to start a new direct marketing division at Hearst Magazines. Those were heady times, and the money was flowing freely all over the place. There was no better place for a woman to be than in sales. I stayed there for ten years, leaving only due to Brian’s relocation to London.
I had many peers and a few mentors. One of my mentors, Rosemary Montroy, was the type of person that everyone should have in her life when she starts her career. Rosemary already had grown children when we met. She was one of the key figures at Direct Media, one of the biggest direct marketing companies around. The offices are still located in Greenwich in a stunning setting at the bottom of a hill, with a stream running in front of the building and a waterfall to the side. As one of Direct Media’s main clients, I spent a lot of time with Rosemary. She introduced me to all of the industry legends and showed me the ropes. Most importantly, she showed me how to treat people well and earn their respect. She was “mama” to so many.
Rosemary and I would meet for dinner during my time in London and in the first few years of my return to the States. As in so many things, life got in the way and we lost touch, though we always knew what the other was doing through our mutual industry friends.
I received a phone call in September, 2009 that Rosemary had passed away. She was only 64.
Her wake was packed. Amidst the sadness there were many hugs as I came across old friend after old friend, most of whom I had not seen for twelve years. We promised to keep in touch and we have done exactly that. Thanks to these wonderful women I slowly gained the confidence to go back into the world of those who earn a paycheck.
Three weeks ago I found myself standing in front of the Direct Media building for the first time in fourteen years. The name of the company has changed and the parking lot was not as full as I remembered. My old friends inside are now the seasoned veterans.
The only way to get into the building is to walk over a short wooden bridge. As I made my way across on this beautiful fall day I started to cry. It was wholly unexpected. The memories came flooding back and for an instant, I was thinking about the pictures of my little girls that I brought to show Rosemary. My dreams were still intact and my confidence was brimming. We would chat about a great new promotion or of the many deals we would make with other companies. Then, of course, there would be a gaggle of us going off to lunch.
How could I know that all of these years later I would again have my foot in the door of the industry, albeit from a different angle? Those little girls are now young women who owe so much to their wonderful high school just down the street from these offices. Two of the women with whom I worked live in my school district, and another dear industry friend fights her own battle with cancer. So far, she is winning.
As I dried my tears on that bridge, it hit me. The journey may be different but the dreams are the same. Thanks, Rosemary, for watching over me still.