Kay coordinated the first Greenpeace International campaign I was a part of, when we tried to sail a hot air balloon into the Nevada Test Site to stop an underground nuclear weapons detonation. It was an inspired and, we would come to learn, deeply flawed idea, but we were young and committed and passionate and, it’s easy to forget, desperate. For those who didn’t grow up with the day to day reality of “duck and cover” in fallout shelters, of news stories of geese being mistaken for missiles and triggering red alerts, of hair-trigger radar systems capable of launching the obliteration of whole cities in seconds, it’s hard to imagine just how fragile the world seemed, and how important the mission to throw everything we had at stopping a nuclear apocalypse. Kay was the first of many Greenpeace women that I worked for, and she brought a level-headed outrage and deeply compassionate leadership style that was utterly at odds with so much of the organization’s testosterone-fueled chest thumping of those days.
The campaign was a time both magical and cursed. It was training flights over the sagebrush of the Santa Monica hills, flying over hawks and rabbit in the dawn sunlight. It was long hours working in the shadow of sensing we were being watched, fearing we might be infiltrated, and knowing we were up against the mightiest military force on the planet. It was staring into the abyss of the nuclear threat, it was the camaraderie of hope. It was logistical nightmares and tactical arguments and all the day to day conflicts of a group of people, who, in Bob Hunter’s words, were “men and women, young and old, not all of them brave or wise, who found themselves face-to-face with the fullest ecological horrors of the century …”
Through it all Kay was exactly the kind of quick-witted empathetic leader you need when chaos is swirling. She brought out the best in a motley team and kept us moving forward even after a spectacular setback – a balloon crash that garnered all the wrong kinds of press and which a lesser leader would have turned into a blame game. She picked up the pieces, dusted off our egos, waited for bones to mend, and put us all back on track.
She was rock. She was laughter. She was quiet wisdom, humble optimist, sparkling inspiration. Wonderful storyteller. Champion hugger. Deeply missed.
Such a lovely capture of that time and that effort and that person–Kay. A “level-headed outrage,” oh yes. Thanks, Brian.