Born into a traditional wealthy East coast family, Graham’s father initially bought the Washington Post in a bankruptcy auction, and when he moved on it seemed natural to Graham that the editorship would pass to her husband Philip rather than herself. But in 1963 Philip died by suicide and Graham became the leader of the Post. Despite her lack of experience, she sourced a string of strong collaborators and advisors and expanded her circle of competence over time in a recognisably feminine way, eventually becoming a little less traditional:

“In Washington and elsewhere where large, social dinners were given, men and women automatically separated after eating, the men usually remaining at the dining-room table discussing serious matters over brandy and cigars while the women retreated to the living room or the hostess’s bedroom to powder their noses and gossip, mostly about children and houses—“women’s” interests, as they were then considered. I remember hearing a story that once Cissy Patterson, on being herded off with the other women after dinner, said to her hostess, “Let’s hurry through this. I have no household problems and my daughter is grown.” But she, too, accepted this ancient custom, as did I. Long after I had gone to work and was engaged in discussing political, business, or world affairs with many of these same men by day, at night, after dinner, I would mindlessly take myself off with the rest of the women, even in my own house. Finally, one night at Joe Alsop’s, something snapped. I realized that I had worked all day, participated in an editorial-issue lunch, and was not only deeply involved in but was actually interested in what was going on in the world. Yet I was being asked to spend up to an hour waiting to rejoin the men. That night at Joe’s—he was especially guilty of keeping the men around his table—I told him I was sure he would understand if I quietly left when the women were dismissed. Far from understanding, Joe was upset. Defensively, he insisted that the separation didn’t last a full hour but only long enough for the men to go to the bathroom. I maintained that that was nonsense, that I liked early evenings, that I looked forward to my reading, and, further, that I wasn’t trying to tell him what to do but only stating what I wanted to do. Joe couldn’t accept the idea of my leaving and promised that if I stayed he would let everyone—men and women—remain at the table.”