Esther Hautzig

Esther Hautzig

I told her she looked like Little Lulu.

I loved to see and hear her laugh.

One day she cut the crusts off eighty slices of bread.

She was making cucumber sandwiches for a tea for librarians.

What should I do with the crusts, she wailed.

We met in Riverside Park and fed the squirrels.

They stood around politely holding neat crusts that looked like French fries.

Ezra Jack Keats had told me a terrible secret: Esther’s book The Endless Steppe won the 1969 Newbery Award.

The committee chair called her editor, Elizabeth Riley.

Miss Riley said Esther didn't write it.

Esther worked for Miss Riley at T.Y. Crowell.

I have the booklet she wrote when Maude Hart Lovelace's Betsey Ray got married.

I never told Esther what “Jack” said; it would have hurt her deeply.

She admired Miss Riley, rolling the r.

Anyone who has read A Gift for Mama or Esther's other books knows they have the same voice.

She learned English when she came to America, learned it well enough to write publicity for a stickler like Miss Riley.

I had met Miss Riley.

Just out of college, I wanted to re-illustrate the Betsey-Tacy books.

I made an appointment and took along samples.

These books are classics, Miss Riley said, shaking with rage.

Like Little Lulu, Esther was powerful.

She hated injustice; she said it gave her migraines.

The year I had a Caldecott Honor Book, Dial won three awards.

They could not take me to the ALA Convention.

I told Esther, and twenty minutes later I was going.

An important librarian told the editor to take me or stay home.

To authors and illustrators, editors are like Jenny Linsky’s friend Pickles, both good and bad.

Books have a life of their own.