Kathryn Johnson (c.) discusses her book, My Time with the Kings, with AP’s Valerie Komor and civil rights icon Ambassador Andrew Young.
The frequency with which we hear people described as a trailblazer and legendary almost negates their value. But sometimes they are the only words. Especially when describing a female whose life as “one of the first” and as an exceptionally good reporter made her a legendary trailblazer. Even the Associated Press used them in writing the obituary of their noted journalist Kathryn Johnson, who died in the fall of 2019 at the age of 93.
Since then, I’ve thought a lot about what I know about Kathryn and comparing that with what I’ve heard from others. There was no dissonance.
Kathryn was my friend and mentor, although I knew her only the last 10 years or so of her life. She was a graduate of Agnes Scott College, where I edited the alumnae magazine. (She had graduated the year I was born!) We met when I interviewed her for said magazine. As we sat in my office exchanging getting-to-know-you pleasantries, she latched onto a couple of things about me: my journalism and English degree and my employment with the Associated Press. In truth, I had been a stringer for the AP during my senior year in college. I hadn’t pursued full-time employment with the AP when I graduated. But if I had, my chances would have been better because of the trail forged by Kathryn.
The Carter Center in Atlanta where Kathryn shared stories of her relationship with the late Martin Luther King Jr. and Mrs. King.
Upon her 1947 graduation from Agnes Scott College, armed with her English degree and a certainty about what she wanted to do, Kathryn applied for a reporter’s job with The Associated Press. She was refused. Although the AP did employ women, their numbers were significantly fewer than those of the men. The bureau chief tried to dissuade her because their men reporters were returning from World War II, and the AP had fired all the women who had—temporarily—filled in.
But with her clear vision of what she wanted, not what current norms dictated, joined hands with her determination. She did what she had to do in order to reach her goal. She accepted a job as secretary for the AP, wrote features she dreamed up herself and studied how the top AP stories were being written. She eventually got a reporter’s job.
Kathryn’s relationship with Martin Luther King Jr. and his family demonstrates her willingness to do the work and not worry about prestige. She was assigned to cover King, she told me, because at the time he wasn’t a big story and male reporters didn’t want to waste their time. She accepted the assignment. By the time of King’s assassination, she had developed a trusted relationship with him and his family. She was the only reporter Mrs. King allowed in the house the night of his death. On the day of his funeral, Kathryn cooked breakfast for the King children., which she was doing when former first lady Jackie Kennedy Onassis arrived at the home to offer Mrs. King her condolences.
At the visitation for Kathryn, I met the daughter of Vietnam POW and Navy Captain Jeremiah Denton. Kathryn had been assigned to cover the POW wives, which she did so well that she had access to their husbands when they were released and returned home. There are stories to tell, but it seems everyone loves the one about Kathryn getting in bed one night with Denton and his wife. And it wasn’t at all about what it sounds like.
Kathryn told me told me she clearly understood the difference between business and personal, as did the people she covered, and she maintained that line.
Her creativity, which capped off Kathryn’s hard work and determination, literally opened doors for her when the University of Georgia was integrated. Reporters were not allowed into the classrooms. Yet, Kathryn was there, walking past the guards and into the class with Charlayne Hunter, the first Black female to enroll at UGA. Kathryn, still young looking at age 34, donned a sweater, a “poodle” skirt, bobby socks and loafers, and with books in her hand, she walked side by side and chatted with Hunter as they entered the building. Kathryn told me all the reporters standing outside knew her identity, but no one gave her away.
I enjoy about being around reporters to hear their war stories, and Kathryn’s were touching, informative, sometimes hilarious and fantastic examples of what she did to “get the story.”
Kathryn, retired when I met her, was working on her autobiography. It was in her role as mentor that I really got to know her.
She listened, asked questions and discussed with me a biography I am writing of a deceased AP correspondent. Her insights were invaluable; her encouragement even more so.
And she connected me with her friends and colleagues who provided me with excellent, detailed and first-hand knowledge of my subject. She had paved the way for me by contacting numerous people first. I learned quickly that I my acceptance was automatic when I said to them, “Kathryn Johnson suggested I call you.”
As I met with others to honor Kathryn, I learned that she sought the opinions and thoughts of others over telling others about hers. She genuinely wanted to know what they thought.
All the stories and reflections about Kathryn revealed a unique woman who followed her dream and did so in such a way that created opportunities for those of us behind her. I know she made an impact on me.
All I can say is what others have said, “I will miss her.”
To learn more about Kathryn Johnson, read My Time with the Kings; Breaking News—How The Associated Press has covered War, Peace, and Everything Else; and Agnes Scott The Magazine, Fall 2009.
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