Roy Exum, Ferris Robinson, the late Paul Kelly and the late Helen Exum
Helen McDonald Exum gave me my first assignment as a writer. But she did much more than that. She took a chance on me and took me under her wing. Helen Exum taught me a thing or two, and not just about writing.
The lifestyle editor of the Chattnaooga Free Press pushed me out of my comfort zone more than once. She sent me to interview Willie Aames from Eight Is Enough, even though I had never seen the show. I balked, confessing I'd never heard of him, but she clucked her tongue and chirped that I'd be fine.
She told me he was a person, just like me.
Years later, when I was writing a regular food feature for the paper, she called me to say that I'd be traveling to Orlando to cover a cooking contest. She told me I'd fly down and stay in a hotel for three nights, and be wined and dined and entertained, all on the Free Press. I did not jump at the chance. The truth is, I was terrified. I knew all the food writers all over the country traveled together to these things and were chums. I was intimidated by food writers from Better Homes and Gardens and Good Housekeeping and was more than just out of my comfort zone.
Helen listened to me hem and haw and make excuses for a few minutes.
"Wait just a minute, Ferris," she said. "I've got something I want you to read."
And she told me about a book, The Confidence Course. Now I didn't tell her I was intimidated. Or shy. Or not too sure of myself in my own kitchen, much less with these accomplished superstars. But she knew.
And I ordered it. Right before I went to Orlando for four days. By myself. With writers from big time magazines. My teeth chattered for the entire time but I got to meet Alex Trebec and go to Disney World for a private affair.
She was a champion to her writers, and supported all of my endeavors, albeit crazy. When Laura Evans and I created a cookbook Never Trust a Hungry Cook, Helen Exum immediately called about a feature. And gave us the front page of her section with pictures and recipes.
A decade or so later, when I started my newsletter, The Gorgeless Gourmet, after my husband had open heart surgery at the age of 34, she id another feature. Helen Exum did a lot for me.
She gave me a regular column, every writer's dream. Another writer and I shared the space every other week. And every time I wrote, I pinched myself that she'd taken a chance on me.
She was more than an editor. Instead of correcting mistakes, Helen called me and taught me how to write. "You need to be sensitive," she said once after I'd written that I'd filled my grocery cart to the brim with junk food for a birthday party for a dozen little boys. "There are plenty of people who can't afford groceries at all, much less fill a cart with junk food."
That was the same article I referred to valium as a means to get through the aforementioned birthday party. I don't actually take valium, and meant it as a joke. But she called me and warned me never to mention it again. I haven't. Until now.
There are many times I think of Helen Exum as I write. But none as much as now.