Goodbye Angela

She elevated women to a whole new level with the women’s magazine she edited.

I first met Angela 30 years ago.

I can still see her walking through the Express office in the old cocoa house on Independence Square. She always wore long, black flowing skirts that had the oxymoronic effect of making her look elegantly hip. All day long, she crossed that Express office to meet ordinary people in the newspaper’s lobby where she took their reports for Action Line, Angela’s consumer hot line column.

I can’t imagine dealing with government offices and businesses all day long to right consumers wronged, but Angela worked methodically and tirelessly with that Zen-like, calm demeanor that defined her. She made many people’s lives better.

Always humble, positive and kind, Angela possessed a regal air, but she remained forever humble. I had the privilege of working under Angela when she was promoted to Express features editor. She was an editor like no other I ever worked for because she knew how to work magic.

Angela had a knack for making a high energy, tense, dead-line oriented job feel like a leisurely walk through the park. She came up with stories I never would have dreamed of, and she pulled them off like no editor could. She believed in big pictures that defined a page and overshadowed articles.

In that regard, she was way ahead of her time.

She believed a newspaper should be about more than dismal or grizzly news, and she had a knack for producing light stories that could still be unforgettable.

I can barely remember what story I wrote two days ago, but I remember articles I did for Angela 30 years ago. When Stag and Carib started a beer war, Angela had me write a story on the two young men who starred in the beer ads. One of them was OC Blackman, the son of the late, great calypsoian Ras Shorty I.

In the late 80s, she ran a huge picture of a bi-racial, Antiguan model in an article entitled.

“The Face of the 90s.” She saw the future of fashion and modeling as unusual beauty.

In the ‘80s when no one talked about AIDS, Angela talked me into writing a column entitled “My Brother Died of AIDS.” She gave me the courage to write that column about my brother, Paul, and it won the national journalism award for best column. No column has ever been more important to me because I learned how I could come out of my comfort zone and how I could stand up for something important even when no one else was. Best of all, I made Angela proud of me.

When I think back on Angela Martin’s career in journalism, I think of a woman with her own unique sense of creativity.

She had a way of bringing out the best in everyone she came in contact with, and she never lost faith in anyone.

She celebrated everyone’s success There has never been a person less selfish and more uplifting than Angela. She fought cynicism with optimism.

Rest in peace, dear col l e ague.

We are all better people because we knew you.