Jane Cunningham Croly left upon the last century an ineffaceable
record. For industrious and successful work in journalism she probably
had no peer. In a speech before the Woman's Press Club not long since,
she said: "When a woman has written enough to fill a room, she feels
like burning it instead of preserving it in scrap-books." Probably no
woman of her day and generation has done more or better work than our
"Jenny June." No woman had more diversity of gifts; she was equally at
home in the editorial chair, or the reportorial office; as a speaker
she excelled. In the old days we who knew her best would sometimes
notice a hesitancy of speech that would occasionally cloud a brilliant
idea; but if she hesitated she was never lost, and the idea was worth
waiting for. She was always clear, logical, forceful in expression,
and exhaustive in argument. Thoroughness seems the word to express the
character of Mrs. Croly. She was quick to catch the meaning of the
uttered thoughts of others, keen in analysis, and executive in all
work. Witness the many organizations which she helped originate. Her
long years of rule as president of Sorosis were of inestimable value
to that "mother of women's clubs." Her great "History of the Club
Movement" should be in the hands of every woman in the land.
Of Mrs. Croly's personality it is a pleasure to speak. Every woman who
enjoyed the privilege of her friendship felt the magnetism and charm
of a rare nature; while, with all her force and power, there was a
childishness about her that impressed one with the idea that the
naïveté and innocence of childhood had never been wholly lost in the
woman. I think it was in some measure owing to the fact that she was
so near-sighted that there was a kind of appealing hesitancy about her
movements that impelled you to her aid.
Mrs. Croly's home was one of refinement and good taste in every
detail, and there she was at her best. Always a charming hostess, she
made every guest feel that he or she was the one most eagerly
expected; there were the hearty greeting, the few low words of
welcome, the sunny smile that transformed her face into positive
beauty. Her Sunday evenings at home came nearer in character to the
French salon than any others in New York. There were the most
delightful people to be met: the gifted minds of our own land and
Europe were among her guests. But Mrs. Croly's proudest boast was that
she was a woman's woman.