Breaking the Glass Ceiling 1967

My term as editor-in-chief of the University of Cincinnati News Record began in May, 1966 and extended to the end of April, 1967. I was the fourth female editor of the university. The first worked during World War II when men were involved in the war effort. How did I handle the gender gap? The university had often been considered "male and pale." By 1966, that was still, to some extent, true. Only a year before, the student government had voted that a woman could become student body president. Most women I knew were studying education, nursing, or interior design. Only one female friend was in engineering and a few in business. A good friend had graduated and was enrolled in law school. Her father had sponsored her: he was an attorney. Was I nervous about being a female editor? Not within the office of the News Record. I followed Sharon Hausman to the job. Sharon led a primarily female staff-- only a few section editors (News and Sports) were men, The associate editor, copy editor (myself) and the business manager were all women. All those NR women were Dean's List students. We studied and worked twice as hard as our peers. Once I was told by a high school teacher, "If you want to be taken seriously, go into a test knowing more about the topic than anyone else in the room. Except maybe the professor!" I actually followed that suggestion. Those other staff members did the same. Not only did we study. We worked in service to the college community. All of us were members of Cincinnatus, a group that spread good publicity for the university. We spoke in high schools and held summer parties for future freshmen. We were on orientation committees and served as "big sisters" to new students. We were members of ROTC affiliates-- Guidon and Angel Flight. We did all of this to be taken seriously. It was our way of crashing the 1967 Glass Ceiling. And it worked. The gender problem did not come to play in the student government or the student body. I was good friends with many of the representatives, including the student body president. They respected me. The previous year, I had been the chief reporter for the government beat. The president of the university, Dr. Walter Langsam, also showed no prejudice. Nor did the head of public relations for the university. I was on task forces and committees with many administrators. They were all terrific. The problem I faced was with professors in the beginning of a new class. Once they saw my work or learned I was the editor, they usually respected me. But there was always an earlier stereotype. On two occasions, in the beginning and the end of my editorship, professors asked our classes, "Does anyone work on the News Record?" Both times, I raised my hand. Both times, the professors asked, "Are you a typist? Or, do you write the sorority news?" The first time this happened, I had just been selected to run the paper. The old staff had given me a gift: a giant, 3" diameter button reading, "I am the Editor." Since I was a 5 foot 2 inch 100 pound girl, they thought I might need identification! I wore that button to class the day after the first "typist" incident. The prof had a great sense of humor, and he joked about it all quarter. The second occasion, in a class on advanced composition, I simply stood up and boldly announced that I was the editor. The professor caught me after class and asked me to teach the class about how stories were selected. I was elated. But "Mr. Clyde," my antagonist from the English Department, never respected me. Nor did he respect the other women at the school. He tried to walk all over us whenever possible. He enjoyed embarrassing us. There were stories about his harassment while teaching "Lena and the Swan." He mocked my editorial criticizing "Gentle Thursday," and he purchased ads and failed to pay his bills. I just followed Eleanor Roosevelt's advice and put on my rhinoceros skin. That was my armor. Then, I tried to find humor in the worst of situations. That was my weapon.