When young women pass away too early, the song so often played is Elton John's "Candle in the Wind." But to those of us who knew Jenny at The Hatchet, the analogy of her as a submissive candle being swayed by another force could not be more ill-fitting.
While no particular song comes to mind, there is a more appropriate analogy for the girl who worked with us for almost a year, an analogy that matches her personality so well and pays her a compliment of the highest regard. Jenny Dierdorff, our colleague and friend, was a thoroughbred.
She was strong and determined, yet beautiful and graceful. She combined a ferocity in her work with a subtle elegance that was matched by few and admired by all.
When relaxed and sitting still, she was easygoing and charming, vulnerable and gentle. But once she started working, once her mind and muscles were set to a task, there were only two choices for everyone else - either follow her lead or get run over. And that's exactly what her position demanded.
While all of us have our own duties and challenges, it takes a special breed to be production manager. You act as the paper's focal point, the only person who deals with editors, photographers and the business staff. There is a constant pull from three different directions and an unparalleled pressure to please everyone while managing egos and an always-approaching deadline.
Simply put, it's the most difficult job on staff, and few women or men are capable of dealing with its rigors. But Jenny was more than capable.
While most people work in production for months before becoming manager, Jenny took the job with barely any training and became the cornerstone of The Hatchet. She was feisty, confident and brutally honest, and that combination helped fuse three departments into one newspaper. And somewhere in that process, she also became part of our family.
For some, working at The Hatchet is just a job and remains only that. Often times, those people end up quitting. Earlier this year, Jenny phoned our editor in chief to express her own frustrations. She was thinking of quitting.
While no particular song comes to mind, there is a more appropriate analogy for the girl who worked with us for almost a year, an analogy that matches her personality so well and pays her a compliment of the highest regard. Jenny Dierdorff, our colleague and friend, was a thoroughbred.
She was strong and determined, yet beautiful and graceful. She combined a ferocity in her work with a subtle elegance that was matched by few and admired by all.
When relaxed and sitting still, she was easygoing and charming, vulnerable and gentle. But once she started working, once her mind and muscles were set to a task, there were only two choices for everyone else - either follow her lead or get run over. And that's exactly what her position demanded.
While all of us have our own duties and challenges, it takes a special breed to be production manager. You act as the paper's focal point, the only person who deals with editors, photographers and the business staff. There is a constant pull from three different directions and an unparalleled pressure to please everyone while managing egos and an always-approaching deadline.
Simply put, it's the most difficult job on staff, and few women or men are capable of dealing with its rigors. But Jenny was more than capable.
While most people work in production for months before becoming manager, Jenny took the job with barely any training and became the cornerstone of The Hatchet. She was feisty, confident and brutally honest, and that combination helped fuse three departments into one newspaper. And somewhere in that process, she also became part of our family.
For some, working at The Hatchet is just a job and remains only that. Often times, those people end up quitting. Earlier this year, Jenny phoned our editor in chief to express her own frustrations. She was thinking of quitting.
