Category: Uncategorized
Ladies Who Lunge
I always enjoy eating lunch at a well-known coffee/bagel/sandwich/soup place that starts with a P. Why? The one I tend to go to is in a high-class area and is often populated by “ladies who lunch.” I’m amazed to see a group of them schlepping trays that would indicate they intended, at one time, to eat healthy, but after checking their biological clocks, said ‘screw it. I’m gonna eat as if I was about to walk the Green Mile.” For instance, on this day the very well dressed dowager was decked out in a faultless red ensemble including hat, jacket, skirt and rouge. On her tray, in escalating order of death wish were: cup of water, coffee, garden salad, roast beef sandwich, potato chips, and caramel-nut danish roughly the size of a mastodon’s head.Goodbye Columbus
Another Columbus Day is upon us and damned, if we didn’t forget to decorate the house again. The big day just creeps up on us just as the scummy Italian explorer skulked onto the island of Hispaniola and promptly pillaged all the Dominican infielders in the name of King Ferdinand, who, up until that moment had a laughably losing fantasy baseball team.
When we were kids in New York City we had the day off school. They told us it was because Christopher Columbus discovered America, but we later found out it was because teachers received twofer coupons at the Olive Garden, even though the food isn’t remotely Italian.
Still, we learned about Columbus’s three ships, the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria, which ostensibly brought him and his crew to North America on their voyage of discovery. Much later, historians made a startling discovery of their own, revealing many of the crew members took ill, some fatally, since those three vessels were actually early Carnival cruises.
Personally, I don’t see why Columbus got a holiday or cities in Ohio and Georgia since does anyone in their right minds truly believe a land mass as large as America wouldn’t have been found in short order? Truthfully, it was never lost since the native peoples living here were perfectly satisfied they had discovered the land on which they already lived. The fact that some white guy from Italy stumbled on it merely meant he discovered new foods on which to sprinkle garlic.
Truth is, what Columbus really discovered, was that he was terribly lost. Indeed, he was such a blithering idiot he probably couldn’t find his way around his namesake circle in Manhattan. After three fruitless circuits, I could hear him exclaim to his crew, “I’ve discovered Central Park and claim it for Italy!”
Yes, Columbus Day is certainly a worthwhile celebration if only because it’s an easier name to say than Vespucci.
My Northern Limits
Are you a leaf lemming? You know who you are. Around this time of year your internal nav system directs you to travel north to look at the turning leaves. It doesn’t seem to matter how far north you live..you need to go even north-er.
When I lived in Tucson, Arizona it made sense to travel north to the White Mountains or to Flagstaff since Tucson is in the desert and there are no leaves. Although the fools from whom we bought our little adobe home idiotically planted a mulberry tree in the front yard. The poor thing had a few limp leaves, but they never turned anything except crispy in the hot desert sun.
But when we moved to Atlanta, one of most lush cities in America, did I start to scratch my head over the annual migration north to look at leaves turning colors when you could sit on your back porch or patio with a cold beverage and see all you want. Hell, you could watch ‘em turn, fall and then go ahead and rake the suckers without leaving your leaf lair. But no, you were compelled to get in the car and travel to north Georgia or up to the Smokies to witness the natural pigment purging. Yes, those areas are quite scenic and I wouldn’t begrudge anyone their right to travel there. I’m just saying if you want to see orange or yellow leaves there are plenty nearby, or next to a tanning plant, except those leaves turn colors in the summer and spring too.
Now..let’s take the premise to the nth degree. In 1989 we moved more than 700 north to the Detroit area. That’s north, baby! But obviously not north enough. First of all, we quickly learned that Michiganders are obsessed with traveling Up North, which seems to be anywhere north of Bay City, or the nearest Gander Mountain store. They travel Up North year ‘round because evidently the doors on their real homes automatically lock each Friday at 4 p.m. rendering their keys useless. No place to go, but Up North.
So it was no surprise that come fall we were told you had to go Up North to marvel at the turning leaves. “But we used to go north to north Georgia and the Smokies to look at the leaves. We’re more than 700 miles north of that and you’re telling me we have to travel still further north to see the damn things cough up their chlorophyll?”
That had me wondering where year ‘round residents of Up North go to see the leaves turn. Then it occurred to me. Of course. That’s why we have the Upper Peninsula.
Hi Times and Misdemeanors
I consider myself a pretty friendly person, always armed and ready with a “hi” for anyone I pass. But while taking a short walk with my son at a nearby park, it became evident that the simple salutation comes in many forms, and not always in the spirit of the greeting.
The usual M.O. is this: as you realize you are about to cross paths with another human, or group of them, you quickly size them up as to whether or not you will greet them and, if so, the degree of enthusiasm your “hi” will be. If it looks like the person or persons just decided rainbows are synonymous with chain restaurant salad bars, perhaps only an imperceptible grunt is in order. If it appears as if the couple just reenacted their honeymoon, then a bright smile accompanying a big, rousing, “HI!” is appropriate.
Today my son and I encountered a young couple who appeared to have just emerged from a manhole. Ostensibly in their late 20’s or early 30’s they were as unkempt as a third tier presidential candidate after a debate and just as surly. Nevertheless, we followed established hiking trail protocol and attempted a courteous, if not overly energetic “Hi!” The woman completely ignored us as the guy growled something that was unintelligible but more than the one syllable “hi” would require. My best guess was his rejoinder to our greeting was “yeahwuhuhhuhbrabwahfoo.”
On the other hand, my wife and I have been utterly delighted on several consecutive weekends to encounter a flotilla of Japanese canoeists passing us as we paddled along the Huron River. The occupants in the three boats never fail to wear big smiles and return our sincere “Hi’s” with even bigger “HIs!!!!”
We’ve been tempted to act out our hidden Joey Tribbiani from the old show “Friends” by changing it up and asking “how YOU doin’?” Luckily we’re strict “Hi”constructionists, which should be fair warning for anyone considering hitting us with a brazen “good morning,” or “nice day.” Our motto: “Just pass by. Just say hi.” Bye.
A Yogi Memory
The first time I saw Yogi in person was my first ballgame. It was 1961. The Yanks vs. Tigers. We were perched in the mezzanine of Yankee Stadium in left field and Yogi was taking a rare day away from the plate and playing the outfield. The old stadium, before its renovation in the ’70’s, was a tight place where you sat right over the field and we could almost hear Yogi breathe. Over and over again, as he awaited the next pitch, he took his hat off, then replaced it, then got stock still anticipating the crack of the bat and the chance he’d need to make a play. He did make a few and his skills as an occasional outfield seem to be lost in time. Roger Maris hit two of his historic 61 homers that day, the Yanks won, but so did my dad, my brother and I as we watched Yogi Berra, just below us..now he’s looking down on us..probably wondering, “I like this place..it’s like heaven.”
If I can find one here in Michigan, a Yoo-hoo will be tipped in his honor. As Yogi used to say in the commercials, “Me for Yoo-hoo…fudge bars too-hoo.” Boo hoo. RIP Yogi.
Ducats to Davnen
Smack in the middle of the Jewish High Holidays, my thoughts run to the concept of
buying tickets to attend Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur services. These are the two most important holidays in the Jewish calendar signifying the New Year, and, in effect a new start, as we seek forgiveness for sins we committed the previous year and a shot at making it into the Book of Life, which is like being friended by Him, so we can live to do it all over again next year.
In general, one cannot sashay up to the synagogue, pop on a yarmulke and take a seat in the sanctuary without coughing up some serious shekels. I should mention, however, many congregations offer free tickets to newcomers to the area or those who just afford them.
Unlike Christian houses of worship, Jewish law forbids handling money on the Sabbath or on High Holidays, so there’s no plate passing to help fund the place.
So we charge admission. As a kid in Hebrew school, we paid 50 cents to score a seat in the small children’s services, which were held in a basement lined with unsold cases of soda and styrofoam stuff. But that escalated to 3 bucks as we hit our teens and then, oy, it could get as high as about $200 for the privilege of schtupping yourself in a seat in the main sanctuary where the actual rabbi and cantor ran the show. In today’s world, one might find the coveted “main sanctuary tickets” available on Schlub Hub at a premium, of course, including fees, or on Chaim’s List. But some of those schmucks can be sketchy mama’s boys.
If you didn’t mind a rent-a-rabbi, you could pay about 50 bucks and pray in the ballroom, where the Sh’ma might be interrupted by the sound of crashing dishes in the kitchen or wafts of smoke from the janitor’s Cigarillos sneaking out from the spot where he slept instead of mopping the floor where the old men dropped their after-service balls of gefilte fish because they drank too much of the free Canadian Club or J&B scotch available on the Kiddush table. Note. No Kiddush on Yom Kippur when we’re all supposed to be fasting, before retreating to Don’s Chinese Restaurant across Union Turnpike from our synagogue, the Bellerose Jewish Center in Queens. So, the old men would get drunk before fasting, which only served to make them more unstable and utterly unable to pronounce any of the Hebrew prayers. But they meant well and always enjoyed the nap during the rabbi’s sermon.
When I tell my Christian friends you have to buy tickets to pray during the High Holidays they invariably express their dismay and secret admiration for our very efficient fund-raising method since everyone pays the same price and no one can just slap the plate and stiff the congregation.
Really, one of my Hebrew School teachers put it quite succinctly when he described why we sell tickets. Mr. Rosenberg, a stout man with slicked back grey hair, a jowly red face and a blunt attitude explained there are those Members of the Tribe who only showed up to synagogue once a year on the High Holidays, taking their prayer shawls out of storage and never paying membership dues. “You can smell them,” he barked and smiled at the same time. “Those camphor-ball Jews.” Yup….seen carrying their talithim...and tickets.
Behind the Walls of 9-11
Everyone has their recollections of September 11, 2001. I do too. I was working at the Associated Press Detroit Bureau and watched the terror on the little 19-inch TV before I was dispatched to Detroit-Metro Airport to cover a news conference. But that’s not what I want to recall today. I want to recall how, as a college student working at the New York City Comptroller’s office during the summer of 1970, I walked by the World Trade Center construction site every day during my lunch hour. Sometimes it was fascinating as I watched the construction crew fit together like Legos the distinctive superstructure panels. Other times it was hilarious. It was the summer of hot pants and it seemed as if every Wall Street secretary was wearing them to work. As they strolled down Church Street they stirred the juices of the lunching construction boys who wore big grins, offered to accompany them to the nether sections of the site for an I-beam nooner, or lustily shouted, “hey, Rocky Mountains!” The ladies invariably took no offense and generally laughed it off as they continued on their way.
Why do I tell you this story? Because it reminds me of the lives connected with the structures that remain the photographic symbols of that day of terror. It reminds me of the smiling, lascivious construction boys who spent their sweat and strength to build the World Trade Center to enable thousands of other people to pursue the careers that would provide them their livelihoods and abilities to finance their life’s dreams and goals, or simply a great bicycle for their son or daughter, or vacation for their family, or a meal at the best restaurant in town. It reminds me that workplaces like the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, corporate headquarters or the mom and pop corner store, are where we blithely drag our butts every day to do some sort of work we think will make the world a better place through a product or service or expert counsel or maybe make a kid happy by selling him or her a Snickers bar and a Coke. We perform our tasks believing we’re in a safe haven, except for maybe an unyielding boss or a co-worker heating up halibut in the microwave–not airborne bombs aimed at ending our peaceful lives.
I suppose one day, not soon, we’ll feel differently on the day now known as 911. But as long as I’m around I’ll always remember those guys I passed every day that summer of ’70 who built the Twin Towers and the people who lost their lives working there and those who lost their lives trying to save others. And most importantly, that our symbols…those buildings…were only inanimate containers of the living, breathing contributors to our society, taken from us by those aimed at destroying it.
My Labor Day Wish List
In honor of Labor Day, I’d like to offer 10 ideas for making the workplace much more fun and rewarding:
1-Immediately fire anyone who attempts to cook fish in the office microwave oven
2-Start every meeting by announcing, “anyone who expects concrete actions to result from the next hour should step forward and tell the group where your misguided optimism comes from.” This not only exposes those in the group who are abusing drugs, but lets the leader know how truly ineffective he/she is.
3-Allow anyone sentenced to a cubicle to convert it into a Tupperware container, thereby keeping out human bacteria and mold. Plus, it’s always a morale booster to hear the cute little burp when you seal the top.
4-Rig the office copier so it can read and understand what documents are being duplicated. Not only would this expose who is using the copier for personal reasons, but it would be a hoot if it could announce the contents of the document to the rest of the office, such as, “Morty is renewing his prescription for Viagra! Sophia just registered for a vacation on a nude beach!”
5-At least once a year the boss should be told what’s really going on in the office and offered early retirement.
6-Every time someone asks about ROI or KPI they are immediately rendered DOA.
7-Install an actual watercooler. Too much gossip is exchanged by email and text, thereby making overhearing some delicious scandalous nugget virtually impossible.
8-Just as a joke, on payday announce the entire office will be tithed 20 percent of their pay to support the cleaning staff’s ammonia habit.
9- Once a week it would be cool if the CEO walked around headquarters with a big smile asking workers, “do you believe this shit?”
10-Instead of annual raises, employees are invited to raid the supply cabinet for all the pens and Scotch tape they can fit in their backpacks. Oh, crap..they already do that.
Kvetch and Release
I don’t get the whole philosophy behind catch and release fishing. Let’s see. The fish is minding its own business when it sees what looks to be something tasty floating in the water. It bites and quickly realizes that worm or bread ball or plastic bug was a nasty trick, hiding a sharp hook that makes a hole in its upper lip. In a moment the fish feels a strong tugging with the goal of forcing it out of the water where it can’t breathe, so it starts fighting back. That tires out the fish and it loses the battle. What next? As the fish looks up to see what the hell is going on, it sees some two-legged creature with a big stick and string attached to the hook stuck in its mouth yanking up and winding the string until the fish is out of the water and in a boat or on shore. Now the fish is royally pissed because not only does it have a sharp hook in its mouth but it’s having trouble breathing. “What’s stick boy’s deal?” the fish wonders. It doesn’t take long to find out. Goober holds the fish while taking a couple of selfies with a slack jawed grin. The fish wants to photobomb the selfie by flipping its middle fin, but decides to take the high road and let the dumbass have his little thrill. Selfies taken, goober extracts the hook from the fish’s mouth and tosses it back in the water. The fish shakes itself off and regains its bearings before resuming its swim to catch up with the rest of the school, all the while grousing about its sore upper lip. When it does, the other fish ask where the hell he was. “Oh,” the fish says, “you wouldn’t believe it. I see a bug, I bite. The bug has a sharp thing in it that catches on my lip. It’s attached to a string that’s attached to a stick that a dumb guy above the water is yanking till I’m out of the water. He takes a picture with me, removes the sharp thing from my lip and tosses me back in the water.” “Oh yeah,” says the head fish. “I forgot. We’re in Michigan.”
10 Years After
I never intended to stay for 10 years..or even two. I just wanted to take a short break from news, try something different, then return to the streets to hunt and write stories. But what happened instead was the opportunity to build and develop a team in a corporate setting that pioneered the concept of “corporate journalism” by developing an in-house digital newsroom complete with field crews, reporters, social media channels and feeding into our top-rated media website.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. That isn’t the job I hired on to do. I was hired to launch, manage and be essentially, the ghost writer for then PR chief Jason Vines who wanted to start a new blog aimed directly at automotive journalists. Jason wanted an auto writer in that position who understood the business of both autos and journalism. So, feeling restless after three years of covering General Motors for The Detroit News I though the job sounded like fun and a nice short-term break from news. Blogging was still also relatively new with lots of promise for corporate use, so I wanted to get in on this emerging form of communication.
We called the blog TheFirehouse.biz, named after the Detroit firehouse Chrysler always turned into a bar and grill exclusively for reporters and guests during media preview days at the North American International Auto Show each January. The blog was an extension of the firehouse’s purpose of building relationships with the media.
TheFirehouse.biz made an immediate impact for two reasons. One, we broke every rule of blogging by only allowing working journalists entry to the site. That won us universal hatred from self-appointed “experts” who said there are no rules in blogging, then tried to hold us to one.
Second, we took on issues no company would touch, especially in a news release. The most impactful was one where we pilloried so-called “Big Oil” for artificially propping up fuel prices. That piece appeared, or was cited, in more than 2,000 publications and websites. Indeed, it was the lead story in the next day’s The Detroit News. 
I remember giving a speech at a PR conference in Wiesbaden, Germany introducing European corporate communicators to TheFirehouse.biz’s unique “voice.” During the Q/A session one gentleman asked, “how do you get away with such repugnant rhetoric?” Then at lunch he sidled up to me and whispered, “I am so jealous of you. Congratulations!”
But that was just the beginning of our pioneering journey into a unified digital newsroom. About 10 months after launching TheFirehouse.biz we did our first product reveal via live webcast. Since there was no department dedicated to this, it fell in my lap. About this time I had applied for the long-vacant broadcast communications manager” position and before even being hired, was given those duties. I was promptly told by the person who temporarily held that responsibility the entire budget for the year was blown..and it was July!
That sparked the next chapter. With no money to hire a production company to create a video news release for an upcoming story, nor funds to finance distribution, we purchased a small mini DVD camera from a big box store and shot it ourselves. YouTube was just emerging and I thought, what if we just posted the VNR for free and sent out the link to the media? Well..that worked out pretty well since it cost us nothing to distribute the video and we won coverage as a result. All of a sudden my portfolio was growing , but I had no idea how much bigger it was going to get.
Mike Aberlich, who was second in command, had a brainstorm that would change my life and open the door to everything we accomplished over the next 10 years. He told me that not only would I be hired for that broadcast job, but since I had been a journalist in basically every medium- TV, radio, wires, newspapers, blogging-he’d create a team that would merge all of those disciplines and make me the head of it.
Our new team, Chrysler Electronic Communications, also included the company’s media website. Over a period of several months we stepped up our video production activities and instead of simply shooting video or soundbites for the media to use, we created self-contained stories and features that could be posted on websites. We called what we were doing “corporate journalism” long before the term was co-opted by PR agencies and “experts.” A simple video feature explaining how a waterfall we used at autoshows that created the words “Jeep” and various shapes won over a million views on YouTube.
We then created a weekly video recapping Chrysler news called “Under the Pentastar,” named for the company’s trademark. The name was changed in 2014 to “FCA Replay” when Fiat Chrysler Automobiles was created and use of the Pentastar was discontinued. The feature has won awards from Women in Communications, PR News and the International Association of Business Communicators (IABC).
In short order we created three new positions called “Multimedia Editors,” who are essentially reporters embedded in the company. They cover beats such as brands, corporate matters, labor, technology , and are responsible for creating social media and video content as unique stories, or to create a multimedia package that augments news releases. Our Multimedia Editors, accompanied most times with a videographer from our team, cover stories the same as a field crew at a station or network. Our content is available for any media to use and is also posted on our blog, Twitter, Facebook and YouTube channels. It can also be found on our groundbreaking site, FCA Content on Demand, which is a constantly changing aggregation of internally and externally produced content that contains company news, features, blog posts, product reviews and videos.
All video we produce is hosted on our in-house video portal found on our media website, making it quick and easy for journalists to find the content they need and immediately download it.
Rounding out our multimedia activities is our Livestream webcasting channel, “FCA Live” and regular use of the smartphone webcasting apps Periscope and Meerkat.
Our evolution from a single blog to a self-contained, media website/social media/video production/ corporate news organization was only made possible by a team of creative and courageous individuals who never say “no” to trying new ideas and have the talent and skills to execute them successfully.
Our team is now called FCA Digital Media, but our mission is the same as it’s always been—contribute to the company’s success by creatively and strategically using digital means to communicate the value of its products, technologies, policies and people.
It gives me great pleasure to think about all we’ve accomplished as a team over the past 10 years. But that was then. We’re not nearly done.
edLINES 