Greg Netzer

Besides being the best cusser I ever heard, and among the very best listeners I ever met (it seemed like she listened with her whole body), there was one thing I especially loved about Julie: She always made you feel like you were co-conspirators. Like it was the two of you "got it," whatever "it" was, and to hell with everyone else. She was always on your side.

During the 2008 recession I was running Wordstock, and it was a disastrous time for us. Like so many arts organizations, we'd lost a ton of financial support from sponsors, and every day was a struggle. It was brutal. Almost daily I thought we would have to close the organization down, even as we continued to prepare for the book festival. Among the people I talked to about the struggles was Julie, who unfailingly let me vent, whine, worry, and cry about it without once trying to fix it. She was just there for me. A few months later we somehow pulled a rabbit out of a hat and staged a miraculously successful event, with sooo many more attendees than any of us ever imagined. And at an event the final evening, Julie came storming through the crowd toward me. "Netzer!" she yelled, and got right up in my face, and said, "What the fuck? Where did all those fucking people come from? How the fuck did you do that?" Then she shoved my shoulder and smiled that huge, infectious smile of hers. It was the greatest huzzah ever. I'll never forget it.

Heart of a saint. Mouth of a trucker. Godspeed, Mancini.