The Importance of Being Holly

Holly understands what appeals to twenty- and thirty-somethings. Whenever a new restaurant or club opens in Denver, which is often, she's among the first to try it. She knows the latest pop music, whereas a lot of event planners don't know the difference between RuPaul and Sean Paul. That means she also knows how to attract the demographic nonprofits so heavily covet.

"I realized at the last Mutts & Models that in this age of e-mail, a lot of young people only get invited to things by e-mail," Holly says, referring to the benefit she created three years ago for Harrison Memorial Animal Hospital. She's also begun using e-vites as a cost-effective alternative to traditional mailings. But getting young adults to RSVP is a challenge, so she's had to revamp how events have traditionally been held. "Typically, people in their twenties don't want to plan too far in advance, so I've pushed to let people pay at the door the night of an event."

Planning committees rely heavily on Holly's insight and creativity to develop catchy themes and new features. When Harrison Memorial, on whose board Holly sits, decided to replace its annual birthday fundraising bash with something more high-profile, it was Holly who came up with the idea of Mutts & Models, a fashion show in which both people and their pooches prance down the catwalk. "I wanted to create something young and fun," says Holly, who also helped select hip venues such as Mile High Station and the Gothic Theatre. For the first two years, Gabriel Conroy and owners of small boutiques supplied the outfits; this year, fashionistas modeled creations by New York designer David Rodriguez, whose clothes have been worn by Kristin Davis on Sex and the City. As a result, the theme this January was "Pets in the City." In its first year, Mutts & Models attracted 300 people and raised $30,000; in its second year, almost 400 people showed up, bringing in $50,000; and this year, 550 people came and $100,000 was raised.

But no matter how fashionable an event, young people won't show if they can't afford to. "Even with Mutts & Models, the $125 ticket price is too high for some people," Holly says. "What I'd like to do next year is let people come in after eight, forgo the dinner beforehand and do a cash bar instead. That way, we'd be able to give them a ticket price that's more affordable. The challenge will be to figure out how to do that without alienating the people who paid full price."

Born Holly Kay Lucas on Christmas Day 1965, this future society doyenne grew up in a middle-class family in middle America, the youngest of five children. Dad worked for Hamilton Sundstrand, an aerospace company in Holly's home town of Rockford, Illinois; Mom was a homemaker. There were no debutante balls, no trips abroad -- just the typical Midwest family vacations to the lakes of Wisconsin.

Throughout her childhood and adolescence, Holly was convinced that she was unattractive. "You know how a lot of people say they were skinny, awkward children? Well, I was the epitome of that," she says. "My brother still carries a picture of me when I was a skinny, ugly eight-year-old."

In high school, Holly weighed just a hundred pounds -- not much for her 5'7" frame -- and classmates called her "bones," so she wore sweat pants under her jeans to look bigger. While at Southern Illinois University in Carbondale, she took advantage of the college town's all-you-can-eat buffets, but even that didn't help her bulk up. Neither did seeing a nutritionist. Lifting weights finally added some muscle, but she's still slight of build.

In addition to feeling physically awkward, Holly often felt socially awkward as a teen. "I was never part of any particular group; I was always an independent child," she says. "When I went back to my high school reunion, people didn't recognize me."

Even her future husband was nonplussed the first time he met her. When Holly was seventeen, she spent the summer in Colorado with a brother and volunteered at Channel 12, where his wife worked. It was there that she was introduced to Rich Kylberg, the station's program manager. Although Holly's sister-in-law thought they'd make a good couple, Rich wanted nothing to do with her. "I was 21. She was too young, and she was related to someone at the station," says Rich, now 42.

When Holly returned to Colorado two years later, her sister-in-law convinced Rich to take Holly, one of Holly's girlfriends and a friend of his on a double date. "He made it clear that he was doing her a huge favor," Holly laughs. "He took us to Thirsty's, a 3.2 bar."

Rich wasn't expecting the lanky teenager he remembered to have transformed into a bombshell. "I thought I'd died and gone to heaven," he says.

He quickly became Holly's first -- and last -- boyfriend. They moved in together in Boulder, where Holly worked and took classes at the University of Colorado. After about eighteen months together, Rich went to Harvard to earn his MBA, and Holly returned to SIU to finish her journalism degree. They carried on a long-distance love affair until they both graduated and returned to Colorado, where Rich started the Bayard Fund to acquire television stations.