Carol & Bill are enjoying happy times—photo by John Kurdewan.
Wednesday, June 25th, 2025, marks the 9th anniversary of Bill Cunningham’s passing. There was to be a gathering of some of Bill’s New York Times colleagues on 5th Avenue and 57th Street where they would share pictures, swap stories, and recollect, but it was canceled last Sunday.
“As the only art director at The New York Times who agreed to work with Bill, I knew deep down that he was a magician, leading us to unveil his discoveries every Sunday; his rabbit out of a hat every week” – Carol Dietz, Former Art Director, The New York Times.
Carol, who worked alongside Bill for over 20 years, was one of the invitees. I reached out to Carol, who has documented many of her images of Bill on her Instagram page, and I asked her to share some remembrances and personal anecdotes.
One of Bill’s Evening Hour spreads that Carol Dietz worked on.
She had a unique working relationship with Bill. They met when Bill was 64 (“Bill was coming into his own at that age, and everyone else was retiring”), and she knew him until his death at the age of 87. Bill was many things to Carol: a brother, a father, a mentor, everything. “He was such a pleasure to have in my life.”
Carol worked in the New York Times art department beginning in 1993, and although it wasn’t solely with Bill, whenever she worked on Bill’s pages, they connected and remained friendly all those years, which she describes as magical, creative, and fun.
Carol with Bill, who was famously hard of hearing
“Working in the same office as Bill Cunningham and seeing him every day was such a treat. You could hear his laugh down the hall the minute he got off the elevator. I really miss his voice, his laugh.” Age was never an issue, according to Bill, who recalls Carol.
He was timeless, creative, curious, and knowledgeable. Bill knew the history of everything. There was so much more to him than being a photographer. He never even called himself a photographer but rather a documenter.
Carol describes Bill as a great colleague who taught everyone good manners (Bill always sent handwritten notes) and grace under pressure. Bill was a very busy man. He shot hundreds of photos, had to go to the offices, edit them down, and cover events at night. He was always on deadline.
Bill’s handmade Valentine’s Day card for Carol
His job was very stressful, and it was overwhelming at times, yet Bill never let on that it was stressful, as he thoroughly enjoyed his work. He was always caring and thoughtful, remembering birthdays, giving chocolates, and making gifts.
The art department always wanted to contribute to helping. They were very compassionate and caring, and Bill considered his fellow art department colleagues as his family. “That doesn’t just happen. You must gain the respect of people and handle yourself with poise under pressure in a deadline-oriented organization.
Carol is standing in front of her wall of layouts for her first fashion book with photographer Robbie Quinn
Bill would show Carol 75 photos, and they would have to be edited down to 36 in an hour. There was no time for talking. They just had to keep moving. It was a real collaborative effort. He was a highly visual person and was very specific about how he wanted the layouts to look. Moreover, Bill would never select an unflattering photo.
Every section at The New York Times has an art director. If you were the art director for the Styles section, you didn’t have time on a Friday to devote to Bill’s pages, so they were outsourced to people like Carol, whose deadlines were on Thursday.
Carol recalls how, every Friday at 3 pm, she would carry Bill’s cropped images and the layout to the photo production department, where every single one of them would look down at their desks, ignoring her. Carol would announce ‘Street!’, ‘Party!’ in hopes that someone would take on the tedious job of toning thirty-six black and white images in thirty minutes.
Carol fondly remembers when the art department gifted Bill with a bicycle on one of his birthdays. It had a little bell on it, and Bill rode it around the offices. Carole says she never laughed so hard.
Bill did not accept gifts, and Carol recalls that one year, when autumn came, she went to Gramercy Park, a place Bill loved. She scooped up a bunch of golden, red leaves and dumped them on his desk, and Bill kept them there for weeks. He adored that gift.
On Thanksgiving Day 2015, Carol was with Bill in his apartment on Central Park South.
Carol visited Bill’s cramped studio at Carnegie Hall, where he kept boxes and boxes of negatives. Bill always kept his door open because he wanted fresh air, and he didn’t think anybody would sneak off with a box of negatives. At one point, Bill was considering donating some of his archives to a museum, but they wanted him to pay them, which he didn’t agree to. The famously miserly Bill would do no such thing.
Carol worked on the first Richard Press documentary, “Bill Cunningham New York,” in 2010. Bill hated it. They had to follow him around, and he was so unnerved that she remembers. Bill agreed to do it, thinking it would be a week or so, but it dragged on for a few years.
When it was released at MOMA, there was an opening, and Bill gave Carol his ticket, saying, “Well, you go, child. I have work to do, and he left on his bicycle and never watched the movie.
Like Bill, Carol saved and remembered everything, which is why Mark Bozek wanted Carol to help select images for his documentary, “The Times of Bill Cunningham”, and to be the art director of his book, “The Battle of Versailles: The Fashion Showdown of 1973.” Bill was not the photographer of the show.
Carol with Mark Bozek editing photos for the Bill documentary
He just happened to be there with his camera. Some of the photos are sharp, and others are blurry. Regardless, they add to the magic. It was Bill’s favorite fashion show in Paris and the one that kick-started Bill’s love of fashion.
Carol was the art director of The Battle of Versailles, by Mark Bozek
None of Bill’s images used for the book had ever been printed. She and Mark had to travel to Orangeburg, New York, to review contact sheets pulled from Bill’s photo archives, which are stored in file cabinets in a cold storage facility.
When I asked Carol what she thinks of the Times Style pages now, she said, “I always look forward to Vanessa Friedman and her witty reportage, but basically, it’s gone. Of course, the times have changed. We don’t have to wait until Sunday. We see images all the time.
CaroI thinks they haven’t tried to duplicate anything of that past style coverage, and they haven’t tried to replace Bill. But let’s face it, Bill’s life was his work. There aren’t many, if any, who could devote so much time to their jobs.
When I wear a suit and tie, I feel like Clark Kent, says Carol Dietz, photographed by Bill Cunningham
Dietz, a School of Visual Arts graduate and Diane Keaton lookalike, was often photographed by Bill as she left the offices. While he couldn’t use the images for The New York Times, as she was an employee, Bill always sent them to her.
Carol worked at The Daily News, Macmillan, and Scholastic publishing houses before The Times. She hopes to work on another Rizzoli book about the Battle of Versailles, focusing solely on the photographs of Jean-Luc Huré. Jean-Luce, who is 83 and lives in Paris, has been photographing the Paris fashion scene since the sixties. His pictures appeared in WWD and W from 1966 to 1975.
Carol with Bill on Thanksgiving Day, 2015
Carol would love to write a personal photographic memoir about Bill because she has a collection of thank-you notes, handmade Valentines, feathers, bird eggs, bird nests, and more. Bill made them for others, too, but Carole thinks she might be the only one who has kept them.
Next year marks the 10th anniversary of Bill’s passing. She would love to get together with Bill’s friends and hold hands in front of 57th and 5th, sharing stories. “He never left my heart, but now and then, I can use a Bill hug,” says Carol, whose hope is that Bill is remembered as an icon of New York, an icon of humanity.
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