The first time I met Sue O'Brien, she had a glass of scotch in one hand and a cigarette in the other. We were roommates at my first Cabinet retreat, where I was the newest and by far the greenest member of Gov. Dick Lamm's Cabinet. She was the Governor's smart, tough-minded, experienced and powerful press secretary, known for her brutal intolerance of fools. I was thoroughly intimidated.

Her first comment to me was, "I really screwed up. I misspelled your name in the press release announcing your appointment. I'm sorry." Now, I was completely disarmed. And, when she spent the night winning at poker with the Cabinet good old boys, who loved her pithy language and funny stories, I was in awe. In the twenty years since then, Sue became my good friend, my trusted political advisor and my editor. I learned how much more there was to Sue's character than her reputation described.

To begin my political education, Sue informed me she wanted no nasty surprises. It was OK if I screwed up, but I needed to tell her before the press did. What she forgot to tell me was to watch what I said to the Governor, who loved a colorful phrase. When I told him about a particularly difficult problem I was facing as a school board member, he quickly turned it into one of his more outrageously honest comments to the press. After she dealt with the public uproar, Sue called me to say, "If you ever give him a comment like that again, I'll wring your (expletive) neck."

Sue's political advice was simple. Be honest and be fair. When you make a mistake, admit it and move on. After her drunken-driving accident, I stopped by her office to commiserate with her about what I called her "mishap". But, Sue would have none of my coddling. "That was no mishap," she retorted. "That was a bloody disaster. I was drunk." With that, true to her principles, she went off to rid herself of alcoholism, never making sorry excuses for her behavior, but instead moving on to solve her problem.

Over the years, Sue and I had dinner periodically, to share our mutual love of politics, people and current events. Our conversations always turned to our families as Sue produced photos of her grandchildren for me to admire. She would tell me of her children's many accomplishments, her eyes filled with pride and tears. But, more than what they achieved, she was proud of their strong characters, their independent spirits and their values. She was thrilled to be their mom.

Our last conversation was two weeks ago. Sue was thoroughly miffed over two newspaper columns that lauded her many accomplishments and reported her terminal illness. "Those weren't columns, those were obits," she complained. "And, I'm not dead." But then, her ever-present fairness took hold. "My illness is a story and they were right to report it." Sue loved journalism, great writing and a good story. She believed every important story, even those she disliked, should be reported, fairly and accurately.

Sue will soon be inducted into the Press Club Hall of Fame. Though she loathed receiving public attention, she planned to live long enough to receive this honor herself. Before I left her that last day, she said to me, "I don't think I'll survive this one. I probably have two months left." Sadly, she had less than two weeks. She would have loved that Press Club chance to roast her colleagues and to laugh at herself.

Sue O'Brien touched so many lives, from her political pals to her Colorado Voices authors, from her family to her readers. A passionate Democrat who received flowers and get well cards from some of Colorado's most conservative Republicans, she exemplified the values of a free, open, honest and fair press.

My heart aches over her loss. But, it is also full of her friendship and wisdom. How lucky I am to have known this remarkable, sentimental, steely, funny woman. How lucky Colorado is to have had her voice and her values for so many years.