Tagged: observations

Refusing Role Call

I’m on Linkedin a lot to promote my Forbes.com stories and podcast, Tales From the Beat, so I see things. What I see are a ton of people who write they’re looking for “a new role.”

Of course these are unfortunate individuals who have found themselves suddenly payless because the thing they were doing to make a living was taken away from them due to firing, layoff, business failure or just bad luck.

It happened to me back in January, 2001 when I was laid off as part of the awesome merger between CNN parent company Time-Warner and AOL. I was the CNN Detroit bureau chief and correspondent at the time and was one of about 1,000 employees told to hit the road, thanks to the recommendations by an outside consultant.

So I’ve been there.

In my “role” as a father and husband I burned some of my generous severance to take my family on a vacation out to Arizona, then went to work…looking for work…a job.

The term “role” never entered my mind. I’m not an actor, although I act up some times. I actually was a speech and theater major in college until I realized I had no future as an actor because I couldn’t remember my lines. That’s one of the reasons I pivoted to broadcasting, because you get to read stuff instead of memorizing it.

But I’ve been thinking a lot about the wide use of the term “role” because, well, everyone has a role. Maybe you’re a partner, spouse, parent, mentor, individual pursuing life, support for a disabled person, confidante, conspirator. Those are all roles.

Folks, what you really need….is a job. It may not be as elegant a term as role, but it’s what you really seek.

You need a job because you don’t have one. You need a job because you need a source of income. You need a job because you enjoy working in your chosen field and it gives you pleasure, satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment.

Why do we need to use this word “role” to soften the message?

There is zero shame in admitting you need a job. There is no shame in admitting you need work. It’s what we all need unless you’re independently wealthy.  

Coming out loud and clear that you’re in the job market is actually a great message. It tells prospective employers you’re ready to work and don’t mince words. Yup, no screwing around. “I need a job. I’m right for your company because I have all the skills, great employment record, list of accomplishments. I’ve thoroughly researched your company, its goals, its culture, its accomplishments and I bring qualities that will add value to the operation.

You’re not looking to play a role, you’re not looking to play at all. You’re looking to do a job and do it well in exchange for money.

Actors who play roles have understudies to step in when they can’t come to work. In real life, we don’t have the convenience of someone being paid to wait around backstage to do our jobs in case we don’t show up.

In my entire working 52 year working life, I never once said, “gotta head off to my role now!” I’ve never undergone “on the role training.”

I went to work. I underwent on the job training.

There’s no reason to substitute some sugar-coated euphemism to soften the message.

Just say what you mean. Use honest words to find honest work. You’ll always have your life’s role.

Mixus Uses the Other AI To Ensure Accuracy

In the world of artificial intelligence, when the technology spits out inaccurate information, instead of calling it what it is, a screw up, the industry invented a softer euphemism—hallucination. Those hallucinations have the potential of causing physical or financial harm, or at the least, a major embarrassment. 

But a months-old startup called mixus.ai has added a very analog backstop to catching errors before they do any harm—the human brain. Indeed, its name is a portmanteau of  mix and us, meaning blending artificial with human intelligence to help ensure accuracy.

The simple explanation is when a user makes an AI query, in addition to a AI-generated response mixus.ai also recommends people who have expertise, experience or knowledge on the specific topic. The user can then add those recommended people into their chat and converse with them and AI together.

Building on that original model, mixus.ai has now added an even more powerful tool it calls “colleague in the loop” AI agents, which can conduct a vast array of tasks such as generating social media posts, recruiting talent, drafting and sending emails, to name a few.

The twist is, the content goes nowhere until trusted human beings in a user’s network act as editors and fact-checkers.

“By bringing colleagues into the loop, you get the full power of AI agents, the efficiency and the time savings, etc, without any of that downside risk of AI mistakes going undetected,” explained Elliot Katz, who co-founded mixus.ai with Shai Magzimof. 

Creating AI agents on mixus does not require any sort of coding or programming knowledge, just the ability to read and write. 

Mixus.ai co-creators Shai Magzimof and Elliot Katz

“The beauty of this is someone who’s never used AI, someone who doesn’t even know what an AI agent is, you can create  and use agents on mixus,” declared Katz, in an interview. 

In the video below, Katz demonstrates how a colleague in the loop AI agent is created in mixus. 

There’s no shortage of examples of the volume of AI hallucinations causing companies and individuals to swoon from their effects. 

A report released in April by OpenAI, which operates the popular ChatGPT platform, revealed its o3 model hallucinated over 50% of the time, meaning every other answer was incorrect. And OpenAI’s o4-mini model performed even worse: nearly four out of five responses were wrong, meaning it fabricated answers nearly 80% of the time.

A very recent example occurred just last month when a summer reading list written by a syndicated freelance writer using AI appeared in such major market newspapers as the Chicago Sun-Times and Philadelphia Inquirer.

As reported in the Sun-Times, the writer admitted he never double-checked the results of his AI search which was incredibly unfortunate because several of the book titles in the list never actually existed, making the AI-generated summaries equally false. 

Katz contends it’s an example of a situation that could have been prevented by use of the colleague in the loop system.

“They could be using mixus, and they could have rules that are brought out through mixus, that say, before you publish anything, you have to have your editor or a colleague or multiple colleagues press that verify button, meaning they’ve actually reviewed what the AI put out is real and not total slop, etc,” Katz said. 

Investors are backing the mixus.ai playbook. The company just closed its $2.6 million pre-seed funding round which included participation by Liquid 2, former NFL star quarterback Joe Montana’s venture capital firm. 

Access to mixus.ai is by subscription. The company offers a free, 14-day trial to individuals using a business or personal email address. After that period, anyone who wants to continue as a user will need to contact mixus for “custom pricing,” according to Katz. 

Since launching late last year, mixus.ai has changed its business model from B to C, targeting consumers, to now targeting businesses, for which, errors can be more consequential according to Katz.

“We want colleagues in the loop,” said Katz. “We are working with businesses that want to deploy AI agents in a way that they don’t have to deal with these undetected AI mistakes.” 

You can listen or watch the entire interview with Elliot Katz and an extended demonstration of the mixus.ai colleague in the loop AI agent creation tool in the author’s podcast Tales From the Beat. 

Last Rites By the Yard–Living Through Joann’s Death Rattle

In the past two weeks I’ve witnessed the last rites given at five different locations for the same impending death carrying the same name. As former Monkee Michael Nesmith once sang so long ago, “her name was Joann…..”

The chain of fabric and craft stores named Joann has been condemned to die by May, not because they’re not making money, but because inept management spent too much of it on stuff none of Joann’s core customers want. Stuff like home décor and nine-foot high inflatable Christmas and Halloween decorations.

No…Joann’s loyal disciples sew, craft, frame, paint, mold, bake. They’re makers.

As one bereft Joann customer noted while standing in checkout lines that extended the length of the store and curled around the rear, “we don’t want ready-made things. We’re the ones who make things and we need the materials to make them.”

My wife and daughter are among them, and that’s what led us to visiting a half-dozen Joann locations in our area, and counting.

As merely their wheelman with no aptitude whatsoever for the magic the makers conjure from the raw materials on Joann’s shelves, I could only stand by to witness the swelling desperation and despair among the talented men and women grasping at the supplies they need, as Joann breathes its final breaths.

Yes, the going out of business discounts are certainly an incentive to make multiple sorties to as many Joann stores as possible, but the urgency to stock up before Joann is shut up for good is much more organic.

I’ve come to learn from overhearing the conversations and exclamations from the mournful makers that you simply can’t find the same type of fabric at competitors such as Hobby Lobby.

Indeed, my daughter who makes almost every stitch of clothing she wears, explained there’s fabric for crafting and fabric for apparel. It’s the latter necessary for clothing and Hobby Lobby just doesn’t stock it. Neither, I’m told do the scads of quilting shops scattered around the country.

Sure, you can certainly find apparel fabric online, but as more than one upset shopper noted while prospecting Joann’s remaining bolts, “you have to feel the fabric!” Indeed. 

The impending death of Joann also means imminent unemployment for thousands of its workers, many of whom are running out the clock staffing the stores until the ultimate closing time.

It’s not easy. Each day closer to the end the crowds are becoming denser, patience is getting thinner and emotions are growing more raw.

When one customer barked at a harried staffer about some perceived mistake, the poor worker sadly offered, “I’m trying really hard here.” The customer felt equally as bad for snapping and apologized.

But there are testimonies from fed up workers that some customers hoping to land last-minute bargains are downright disrespectful and thoughtless, such as deriding workers for the long checkout lines and waits, at times, for hours at the fabric cutting tables.

One, cutting table staffer wrote in Reddit, she simply walked off the job after one abusive customer too many.

It didn’t have to be this way. At an auction, a company willing to keep at least some Joann locations alive lost out to a liquidator that makes its blood money by selling off whatever assets it can before trashing them—basically selling the carrion of a dying chain.  What a waste on so many levels.

I don’t know how many more Joann stores we’ll visit before there’s nothing left worth waiting in line to buy. But as long as my wife and daughter want to try their luck as they squirrel away the precious supplies they need while they’re available, I’m happy to be their driver.

Oh, I let them be while they shop. Sometimes I escape for a bit to another store in the shopping center or just take a walk. But I do find fascinating the myriad of gadgets, devices, tools, implements of which I have little to no idea of their use or function.

I’m always drawn to the giant board from which the things they call “notions” are hanging.

 I honestly have no, um, notion, what the stuff is for but it’s fun to wish you knew just so you could work it into a conversation at a bar to attenuate some braggart’s bluster with something like, “heh, but I scored some kickass notions yesterday.” Only to see the wuss back down and plead, “Where, or where?” I smugly reply, “Joann, jerk.” He buys the next round.

Effin’ A!

You know, it’s really hard, day after day, watching so many people at loose ends literally grasping at straws, fabric bolts, buttons, needles and patterns before Joann breathes its last breaths.

Come May it will be RIP for Joann…rest in piece… goods.

Party Pooper

My wife likes purple. I thought it would be cool if I tossed a bag of purple candy in her Christmas stocking. I looked in every supermarket and big box store but purple colored candy just wasn’t something any of them offered. Online wasn’t an option. Christmas was just a day away and I don’t fall for the “Prime” extortion.

I was about to give up when I decided to try my luck in a store that was all about celebrating, since purple seemed to be a celebratory color, if not exactly appetizing.

Yes, Party City had bags of it. Tubes of it. All the purple M&Ms any number of humans could desire simultaneously. It had so many pieces of purpley pills that would melt neither in ones mouth or hands I had to contain myself. Hell, I wanted to toss myself a party for popping into Party City. It would be a theme party with purple hats, cups and paper plates and plastic utensils. Everyone I invited could take a whack at a purple pinata in the shape of a lavender lizard. I wouldn’t even have to leave Party City to get all that stuff because it was all there.

In fact..on the Party City website you could actually search for stuff not only by theme or occasion, but by color. Click on purple and voila, it’s a grape new world!

Now the suits who run Party City say the entire chain is closing down. They say the Party City poopers are discount stores, online marketplaces, people not throwing parties at all that require bundles of balloons or paper tablecloths and napkins with pictures of ponies or super heroes.  

What are kids doing for birthday parties? Maybe there’s an app for that, like everything else. How do you play pin the tail on the donkey—close your eyes and take a poke at a smartphone screen? Feels ass-backwards.

Where do you get party favors? You know, those little tchotchkes you give each kid who is sure to either break it or choke on it before the candles are even lit? I’m told you can get that stuff at “dollar” stores. Heh. Even those have given up the ghost now charging at least a buck-twenty-five for their wares that were barely worth a single in the first place and it’s never as cool or in the variety Party City offers.

I always enjoyed watching some poor mom or dad trying to schlep out to their car with a bundle of a dozen helium balloons, struggling to get out the door without cursing as that big Mickey Mouse one got loose and headed to oblivion in the troposphere.

Where do you even buy helium-filled balloons now? When I was growing up long ago, Party City didn’t yet exist. It was hard to find a place to buy helium balloons, so my father figured out if you rub an inflated balloon on your pants it created enough static electricity for the balloon to stick to the wall…for about 10 minutes.

Oh, you might find another store that sells helium-filled balloons but only Party City has them for every freakin’ age decade–although I’d be afraid to buy one for someone turning 80. The damned thing bursts, scares the crap out of the new octogenarian, that’s their last birthday. Too bad because Party City has balloons for when you turn 90 or 100. So deflating.

I’m not much for dressing up for Halloween, or even to go to the store, but hell, you never know when you’ll get the yen to pop on a Green Glam Wig when you’re too lazy or late to wash your hair..or you just wanna look greeny-glam.

I never really got the thing with “gender reveal” parties. I mean, when we had our kids the nurse or doctor just kinda looked, er, under the hood, when the cherub made his or her way into the world from the tunnel of love. But nowadays couple want to know in advance so they can decorate the nursery gender-specifically, advise attendees to their baby shower not to gift jock straps when they know the lil’ darlin’ about to emerge will have nothing to strap in.

I know, I know. You can find them online. I did, but hell, you don’t get the satisfaction of watching the smirk on the face of the pimply teen-aged cashier or the opportunity to tell a bad dad joke while cashing out. “Yeah, the wife and I are celebrating our second honeymoon. Heh-heh.” Then you apologize as the kid makes some rude remark about Boomers.

Sure enough, Party City carries just the right accessories for gender reveal soirees. I love the paper plates that say, “just here for the SEX.” Heh. I’m here for that! Where will you buy those now?

I could go on and on about all the party paraphernalia at Party City, but you get the idea. We’re just losing too many go-to chains that we long depended on for one reason or another, like Big Lots—cheap stuff, tacky furniture, giant containers of cajun snack mix and a hundred varieties of ear buds and pods for Keurigs.

But I mourn the passing of Party City the most. It’s not that I visited the store very often, but sometimes it’s just nice to know a place like that is there when you need it. Like when your partner in life decides she has a new favorite color M&Ms, or when a friend turning 100 boldly requests a helium balloon and doesn’t care if it bursts, because they can’t hear it anyway.

So long, Party City. I’d say “party’s over” but that’s just too trite..and I won’t be party to that.

Chrysler’s Sad Love Life

Marriage can be an iffy thing. Especially if you’re an auto company that can’t seem to exist without being coupled, sometimes with a parasite. That’s what the entity commonly just called Chrysler seems to be.

Full disclosure—I worked at the company for 11 years through three of its marriages. One ended in divorce, another as a result of bankruptcy and a third where Chrysler just became the second of its combined name.

I retired in 2016, five years before the company was sucked into another relationship and lost its identity altogether, as part of a blob of corporate Play-doh called Stellantis.

Keep in mind the last three letters in Stellantis are also the final three letters in the suffix “it is” which is a medical term for some sort of inflammation. Appropriate, since the CEO just flamed out and flew the coop with a nice multi-million dollar nest egg.

So this seems like a good time to examine Chrysler’s marriages from both my inside perspective and a more macro view to better understand how this corporate Sadie Hawkins should go about chasing its next partner—or should it?

In 1998 the all-American Chrysler Corp. was joined in a shotgun marriage to the German automaker Daimler AG. It was billed as a “merger of equals.” There should have been a pre-nup. There was nothing equal about the marriage. The Germans were clearly in charge.

I joined the DaimlerChrysler in 2005 as a contractor—hired to ghost write and manage the company’s first corporate communications blog. A year later, having been a broadcast and print journalist since 1973 and covering autos since 1989, a new digital communications team was created around me. I was hired on staff to run it.

My boss at the time sent me to attend the annual “communicators conference” at DCX headquarters in Stuttgart, Germany. To get there I was granted a seat on the company’s plush jet.

Somewhere over the Atlantic I received some valuable insight as to how the Chrysler side of the marriage was regarded. I overheard a couple of engineers complaining that “they want us to build Chrysler vehicles with Mercedes quality on a Chrysler budget—impossible!”  Yes, it was.

During the actual meeting, a German executive declared any quality issues should be blamed on Chrysler—and welcome to Stuttgart. Ach!

Some marriage. Even the late Dr. Ruth Westheimer couldn’t fix that relationship.

On Valentines Day 2007 the Germans decided to ditch their American spouse with little warning. At the “annual news conference,” held for the first time at Chrysler headquarters in Auburn Hills, Michigan, CEO Dieter Zetsche spilled that all options were open with regard to the future of the tenuous tie-up. By summer the divorce was final and Chrysler found itself in a new abusive relationship—this time with capital management company Cerberus—yes, the three-headed dog guarding the gates of hell.

The upside was the company went back to being just Chrysler. The downside was everything else. Cerberus was known as a corporate slum lord and the new CEO, Robert Nardelli, known for being passed up as successor to General Electric boss, Jack Welch and for being fired from Home Depot after its stock tanked as a result of his bad decisions.

Cerberus had no experience running an auto company and it showed. Its main strategy was simply firing people. I watched as dozens of my immediate co-workers and hundreds more were suddenly told to grab a box, fill it with their stuff and take a hike.

There was a guy installed in one of the little glass offices on our floor who spent his days hovering over a computer and transferring figures to a white board with the mission of plotting where, and whom, to cut.

At one point, to make the world think the company was actually doing something constructive, the company decided to invite the automotive media, along with CNBC’s auto reporter, to anchor live coverage from our headquarters of the unveiling of a line of “production intent” electric and extended-range vehicles under the acronym, ENVI..the first letters of the word, “environment.”

There were three ENVI vehicles–a coupe based on a Lotus that went by the name Dodge Circuit, and two others based on a Jeep Wrangler and Chrysler Town and Country minivan. Coverage was massive.

In fact, the CNBC reporter called me a few weeks later to say if I could get the Dodge Circuit to New York City by that Thursday, he could get it on the Today show along with the Chevrolet Volt.

No problem. I flew out to NYC for the show and was both heartened and horrified when Today host Matt Lauer said to the CNBC reporter he liked the Volt but if given the choice, he’d go for the Dodge. See the segment here. Sorry in advance for the rough quality.

Cerberus said the ENVI vehicles would go into production by 2010 but they never did.

Greatly summarizing here, the combination of the recession and the company going into bankruptcy, along with General Motors Co., buoyed by federal government bailouts, led to Cerberus exiting and Fiat S.p.A. at first taking a partial stake in Chrysler with Fiat CEO Sergio Marchionne leading both automakers.

Requiem For An Idea

This is an obituary for an idea that sprang from momentary consternation, lasted 17 years, won awards and respect and recently died a quiet, undignified death.

It was September, 2007, a month after corporate slum lord Cerberus took over Chrysler from merger of unequals Daimler. My job was head of the company’s digital communications team, which included its media website, social media, broadcast media relations and video production.

Since all news releases issued by the company came through my team to be posted on the special website for media, I knew everything we were putting out there in hopes of winning coverage.

The truth is, earned media, as it’s known today, is a crapshoot. You post and pray, and most times whomever you’re praying to treats you like an atheist.

So one day I was looking over some recent releases that were posted to the media site and realized there were several that earned little to no media at all. As a journalist-turned PR guy, I knew these items would languish for lack of major news, but as a company employee I also knew the item was important to someone, probably an executive, who was banking on seeing some daylight for his or her little bit of news.

If you’re familiar with the process of creating a news release and related assets, you know a lot of work goes into it—writing, editing, approvals, re-editing, re-approvals…..miles of red tape.

This bothered me.

So in the course of literally a moment, I thought, what if we created a weekly video recap of Chrysler news that included some of those ignored items? It would give those stories another chance to reach an audience instead of just languishing and going nowhere.

Chrysler’s main logo at the time was the Pentastar, and there was a big pentastar-shaped window on the top floor of our Auburn Hills, Michigan headquarters.

So I titled the recap “Under the Pentastar.”

My bosses instantly approved going forward, but with zero budget.

No problem. I posed the idea to my team but told them we’d all just have to pitch in on a volunteer basis to produce the feature every week. OK, they said!

A signup sheet was posted and it didn’t take long for it to be filled with volunteers, including myself.

We posted what we called “UTP” on the media website, YouTube and our social media channels.

It took awhile but it slowly gained an audience. Those of us who narrated UTP became known and even had followers.

One member of my team, the wonderful Betty Carrier Newman, was a former anchor at WDIV in Detroit. Has a great voice. In fact, our boss nicknamed her “The Voice” long before the cheesy singing show.

Betty had her fans who looked forward to listening to her golden pipes.

As a former radio announcer and network news correspondent, I’d record some of the narrations as well.

One year, at the Los Angeles Auto Show I introduced myself to a worker setting up our stand. Now remember, I was on the air at CNN for almost 20 years. But when I told him my name, he said, “Ed Garsten…From Under the Pentastar! I  listen every week..love it!”

That’s when it hit me we’d really done something worthwhile.

UTP won an award from the International Association of Business Communicators (IABC) and maybe another. Can’t remember. It was more important that we’d won an appreciative audience.

When Fiat took over the company in 2009 and later changed the name to Fiat Chrysler Automobiles, (FCA) the Pentastar logo was discontinued. “Under the Pentastar” became “FCA Replay.”

Our new Italian bosses absolutely loved it and referred to it often in reverent terms.

All this time, the weekly video news recap was produced by team members who continued to sign up to write, produce, narrate it above and beyond their actual duties.

It was never slick the way an actual agency or production house might handle it, but we did our best with limited resources and it always looked at least professional.

After I retired from FCA in 2016 and the company was later taken over by the French, a new company was created called Stellantis. The team members I left behind changed the feature’s name again, accordingly, to “Stellantis Spotlight.” 

All this time, our two video editors/producers, Paul Cirenese and Peter Spezia kept it going. Never missing a week. I don’t know if I ever properly expressed how much their devotion meant to me. They’re two of the most solid souls I’ve ever been privileged to work with, along with Betty Newman and our incomparable media site manager Courtney Protz-Sanders.

In recent years I would only occasionally view Stellantis Spotlight as my life in retirement took on its own life. But I would check in periodically.

It had been a couple of months since I did when this week I noted there were no episodes after September 27th. The episode is below.

As a freelance auto reporter for Forbes.com I was well aware of the cutbacks and job losses at Stellantis and suspected “Stellantis Spotlight” fell to the budget ax, which is troubling, since it operated with no budget.

A few days ago I spoke to one of my former teammates about it.

Knowing it was something I still held dear she gravely informed me my suspicions were correct.

After more than 800 episodes over 17 years, under three different titles, our award-winning little weekly video recap created in a moment’s thought and kept alive by the power of devotion, just ended without ceremony.

Look, as trite as it sounds, nothing lasts forever, especially in the corporate world. But for the rest of my life, I will always be thankful for my dedicated team for embracing, then giving life to an idea borne in a moment’s thought, simply to give overlooked stories a second chance of being noticed.

Ghost in the Hell–A Workplace Horror Story

Unlike retail stores that show their Halloween stuff in July, I waited until now to conjure up a little verbal potion of apparitions that manifest themselves in the form of untalented and cowardly managers and executives.

You see, they don’t wait for All Hallow’s Eve to dress up as ghosts—they play the role all year long.

Just like all ineffective bosses are not alike, there are various methods employed by the bottom-feeders who would rather lurk as passive-aggressive cowards than have the courage to appear before their charges and reveal their actual frightening thoughts.

Ah..but isn’t Halloween all about fright? There’s a difference between being scary and not having the intestinal fortitude to scare up honest feedback.

Yes..it’s an exercise in the dark arts—keeping employees  in the dark about where they stand, the quality of their work, the chances of promotion or raise.

I’ve worked long enough to have been ghosted by several bosses. One day you’re in the “house,” having regular conversations and interplay with the person to whom you report. Then one day that house becomes haunted when that person metamorphosizes into a being never seen, never heard, acting as if you never existed.

You’re spooked.

The questions fly through your brain. Is the boss mad at me? Am I getting fired? What’s going on?

Then you make the mistake of approaching the body with no substance looking for answers. The replies you receive are as transparent as the ghost boss’s soul.

You can hear him or her now conjuring the lies they are about to tell you. Hovering over a cauldron of steaming bullshit, they stir it while chanting the ingredients they are adding.

“A gallon of lies! A dash of mis-direction! A pair of side eyes! A dollop of deceit!”

Then they serve it up expecting you to swallow…and believe.

That’s the time to politely explain you’re already up to here with crap and tender your notice.

When the dispirited spirit attempts to reverse your resolve, you turn to the empty vessel and calmly reply, “Not a fucking ghost of a chance.” 

Trick and retreat.

I Hope Trump Was Right About Detroit

I hope Donald Trump was right when he thought he was insulting Detroit, while speaking here, predicting if Kamala Harris beats him in the presidential election, declaring, “Our whole country will end up being like Detroit if she’s your president.”

I hope he’s right. Harris should hope so too, and campaign on that hope.

My love affair with the Motor City began in 1989, although it wasn’t love at first sight.

After eight years working at CNN at its Atlanta, Georgia headquarters launching Headline News, producing thousands of news casts, being promoted to correspondent and anchor, it was time for a change.

That change came when CNN Detroit’s first bureau chief/reporter, the inimitable Robert Vito, was appointed to lead the network’s bureau in Rome.

Few people wanted to take his place because Detroit was, y’know, a scary, cold, murderous, nasty place. At least that was its reputation.

I’m a native New Yorker. That kind of stuff doesn’t deter me. So I applied for the job and got it.

In the weeks before I made the move, idiots in the newsroom gave me shit warning me to buy an Uzi and other small arms with which to defend my kith and kin.

But there were also a couple of folks who actually had lived and worked  in Detroit and told me to ignore the morons, one predicting, “once you live there you’re never gonna wanna leave. Just give it time and explore.”

When I asked why they left, they both said it was simply a matter of seizing career opportunities but they missed the place badly and visited often.

So we moved. It wasn’t great at first. We went from a split-level house that eventually took us nine months to sell because the Atlanta market was over-built, to a rental townhouse in suburban Farmington Hills that had plenty of room but lots of, um, rodents and at least one hooker as a neighbor.  

It was colder, more cloudy and at the time Detroit’s downtown was fairly run down. But I kept remembering what those folks told me about giving it time and exploring. So we did.

As the new Detroit bureau chief and correspondent my prime coverage responsibility would be, of course, the auto industry.

CNN founder Ted Turner said he established the Detroit Bureau in 1983 because he wanted to be close to the most important industry in the world. The bureau was also in the basement of PBS station WTVS a couple of blocks from the old General Motors headquarters in Detroit’s New Center area. Again, Turner put it there because he wanted CNN’s Detroit Bureau to be near the biggest company in the most important industry in the world.

I quickly found out something perhaps Turner didn’t know about Detroit and the auto industry—how warm and welcoming both could be, especially if you showed some humility and a willingness to learn, which I did.

My new charges at the bureau instantly made me feel welcomed and were kind enough to drive me around the area as I considered places to live and explained the mile road system.

Now don’t get that confused with the “southern charm” I was used to in Georgia. Let’s just say Detroit has its own vernacular—meaning a directness that one could mistake denotes rudeness.

Example. My first real contact with the auto industry was interviewing the top numbers cruncher for Ford. He was a crusty guy two months from his retirement. When I sat down to begin the interview he barked at me, “okay, you’re new, you don’t know anything. Just shut the hell up, listen to what I say and get it right.”

I did on all accounts and after my story aired he called me, now speaking in a much friendlier tone and laughed, saying, “scared the shit out of you, didn’t I? But you did real good. Welcome to Detroit.” 

Yes. I needed to give Detroit a chance.

After that I was invited to attend and to speak at a number of events where industry and PR poohbahs gave me warm welcomes.

I was even invited, several times, to appear on the radio with legendary WJR morning giant, the late J.P. McCarthy, where he’d give me gentle shit about the media bashing Detroit. I won him over by changing the subject, telling him anecdotes about Ted Turner sometimes appearing the Atlanta newsroom in a bathrobe after spending the night in his office upstairs after a particularly rough evening of, er, personal enjoyment.

I was honored to be one of McCarty’s final guests on his Focus segment the week of his last shows before he retired.

Over the years my family and I discovered the beautiful suburbs, the wonders of Michigan and above all, the friendliness of its people. We also reveled in the genius of the hard-working citizens who constantly push the boundaries of technology, mobility, education and culture.

In January, 2001 CNN’s parent company completed what would end up being a disastrous merger with AOL, and the company closed bureaus and laid off about a thousand of us in one fell swoop. I was one of them.

So now a choice had to be made. Where to go to continue to make a living. Our two kids were still in school and we very much wanted to avoid uprooting them.

But in the end it wasn’t really a question of moving. My family said they love it here. The Detroit area has everything you could want—schools, shopping, recreation, culture, major league sports teams. Why move?

There weren’t any TV jobs for me so I re-invented myself as a print reporter. Again, Detroit came through for me.

The Associated Press Detroit bureau chief Charles Hill needed a national auto writer and I had place my resume on a journalism job website. He was skeptical a TV guy could actually write—typical bias against broadcast journalists—but gave me a chance.

Yes, there was a learning curve, but again, Detroit came through for me. My editor, Randi Berris and supervisor, Mike Householder, held my hand, broke me of some TV habits and were so, so patient and supportive.

It led to being recruited by The Detroit News to be the General Motors beat writer and three years later, tapped by then DaimlerChrysler PR chief Jason Vines to ghost write and manage his new blog. That job eventually grew to the creation of a new digital communications team which I was appointed to lead until I retired in 2016.

Even after I retired, the opportunities kept coming. I was recruited to use my many years of broadcast journalism experience to help out the Automotive News with its twice-daily newscasts.

That ran its course and I was immediately approached by a former Chrysler colleague at Franco PR to work as a consultant and at the same time, the Forbes Detroit bureau chief asked me if  I’d like to be a freelance automotive contributor. That was in 2018 and I’m still working those two part-time gigs, which I thoroughly enjoy.

You see a theme here? Detroit represents open-mindedness, opportunity, fulfillment. My kids are adults but they’re still here. We didn’t skip town upon retirement. Indeed we bought a bigger house.

We live exactly one minute from a magnificent trail that connects with others for many, many miles where we often walk or bike ride.

We’re surrounded by lakes and are only 20 minutes from the Huron River where I often paddle in my kayak.

My daughter and boyfriend have also recently introduced me to the magnificent sport of disc golf. Who knew there were so many wonderful courses in the Detroit area—most of which charge no fee?

Detroit has become internationally renowned for its eclectic restaurant scene with restaurants led by adventurous chefs conjuring meals and experiences delighting diners with tastes that range from basic American fried stuff to gourmet dishes delving into an array of elements and cultures.

Thousands of new homes, apartments, townhouses and condos are opening or under construction, aimed at attracting new full-time residents to the city.

Take a look at Detroit’s skyline. That new Hudsons block skyscraper is a metaphor for the new heights our town is reaching.

Leave the Detroit area, leave Michigan? Are you freakin’ crazy?

So listen, Kamala Harris. If you become President of the United States, you would do well to make much of the country a lot like Detroit. And Trump? You were too stupid to know the insult you intended was actually a compliment.

Detroit’s Multi-Towering Conundrum–The Renaissance Center’s Dark Ages

What do you do with seven giant glass tubes sticking out of the ground that happen to be the most famous and distinctive feature of your city’s skyline? That’s the question folks around Detroit are asking ever since General Motors CEO Mary Barra announced the company is moving its world headquarters out of the Renaissance Center next year to a new building about a mile north.

Some say tear it all down. Barra promised GM and the developer still putting the finishing touches on the building to which the automaker is moving will work to, um, reimagine the colossal architectural beast.

Yes, I call it a beast that should actually never have been imagined.

Some context. I lived in Atlanta for eight years in the 1980’s when I worked for CNN. It’s where I saw the first iteration of what would grow to become the actual center of the Renaissance Center.

You see, the architect John Portman built his first tubular monstrosity in the city of a hundred streets with Peachtree in their names…and now, one hotel..the Peachtree Plaza. The single glass tube instantly became the key feature of Atlanta’s skyline, showcased in every image of the growing city’s downtown.

The first time I landed in Atlanta for my interview at CNN in 1981, I looked north from the terminal and saw that thing sticking up like a 12-year boy’s first real boner. The city Sherman burnt down was rising again and finally reaching puberty.

Thankfully, over the years, as Atlanta grew, so did its skyline and Portman’s glass pipette is less prominent.

Here in Detroit Henry Ford II, the Deuce, figured he’d more than double what Portman planted in Dixie and, together with Detroit leaders, commissioned the architect to duplicate Atlanta’s Peachtree Plaza, but then surround it with four octagonal office buildings all connected by a network of passageways that would challenge even the most accomplished spelunkers.

The new Renaissance Center, or RenCen, would become the symbol of Detroit…the Renaissance City. Planted on the banks of the Detroit River, facing Windsor, Canada, the RenCen overshadowed and loomed over older landmark downtown buildings such as the Penobscot and Guardian to herald the Motor City’s vitality and prominence, or at least assert it.  

If anything, the RenCen was a photogenic feature that made for effective marketing materials.

Less than 20 years later it all went bad.

In 1989 I was transferred by CNN from Atlanta to Detroit to become its new bureau chief and correspondent. The company had me spend a few days getting to know the staff and the city before moving here. They put me up in what was then the Omni Hotel in the Millender Center…connected to the RenCen by a short pedestrian bridge over Jefferson Avenue.

Of course, I had heard of the RenCen and decided, one evening, to explore this famous landmark. As soon as I entered it from the pedway I felt like a piece of dust might feel as it’s sucked into the collection bag of a Hoover. It was dark and directionless, with scant chance of quick escape.

If I was a mouse seeking a piece of cheese I would starve before finding the morsel since there was no apparent logic to the labyrinth’s layout. I wasn’t dumb enough to attempt to explore the complex because it was just too, well, complex. So I returned, disappointed, to my hotel room.

Not long after I moved up to Detroit and was with my camera crew, I returned with them to the RenCen to shoot an interview with a prominent economist at Comerica Bank which had offices in one of the towers. We weaved in and out between the towers and concourses searching for the right tube to ascend to reach our destination. We were late. We apologized. The economist laughed as he said, “This place sucks. Everyone gets lost…the first dozen times they come here.”

Another time, years later, as I was heading to a meeting a very upset man came up to me. “You look like you know your way around. Please, I heard there’s an ATM here. Can you direct me?”

Deciding this person was an honest Joe who did not deserve to have his hopes and dreams crushed, I looked him in the eye and said, “Sir. Even if I told you, you’d never find it. There’s a bank right across the street. Just head for the daylight of the exit and never stop. I want you to see your family again.”

The man instantly did as he was told. He knew. The RenCen’s tubes would suck you up like bacteria in a test lab.

The place not only didn’t make sense, but it wasn’t making any money as tenants fled to locations where employees, customers and clients could reasonably expect to find their destinations without the utter frustration of being caught in a glass and concrete hamster cage.

Just as it was given up for dead, in 1996 GM bought the place at a bargain rate and moved its world headquarters there from an historic building a couple of miles north. The automaker saved the day. Instantly, thousands of people occupied offices, supported the stores and restaurants. The RenCen had a new life!

Not so fast. Shortly after GM made the move we had an interview booked with then GM CEO Jack Smith. Nice guy. The interview was for our annual auto show special and our producer wanted to use lots of lights.

We plugged ‘em in. Our lights, and all the lights on the floor, went out. Guess the building wasn’t quite ready for prime time…or any time that required extra voltage. It took a few minutes, but the electricians did their magic and we smartly reduced our lighting scheme.

Smith was cool about it. “I guess there’s still some work to be done,” he said with an embarrassed chuckle.

There was plenty of work still to be done.

 GM poured millions upon millions to finally take some of the mystery of navigating the maze with a simple innovation called the circulation ring. No more weaving in and out. Take the ring like a big traffic roundabout and bail out when you reached the exit closest to your destination. The big berms that walled off the complex from the rest of the city were torn down and the soaring Wintergarden was built, offering a bright gathering venue and passageway to the Detroit River.

Then Covid hit. People started working from home. The RenCen returned to its ghostly, pre-GM silence. After the pandemic abated, Barra said workers needed to return three days a week, but by then many of them had already relocated to other GM facilities and others just never returned.

It became time to find a smaller place for the automaker to park.

So what to do with it when Mary and all her sheep settle in their new pasture?

Some say to knock it down. Others imagine apartments, condos, restaurants, some commercial space.

In another era, it might have served well as a garrison guarding Detroit against hostile canon fire from gunboats on the Detroit River. Ah..Fort Renaissance! Tower 400 forever! We have secured the circulation ring! Remember the Marriott! It’s enough to make one forget the Alamo, which is much, much smaller and has an expensive gift shop.

Only because I’m semi-retired and have the time, I think about the future of the Renaissance Center. To demolish it would just add tons of waste to the environment. To save it would just leave tons of waste above ground where at least squatters could literally lose themselves for awhile.

Maybe get Carvana to turn one of the towers into its most giant vehicle vending machine. Wouldn’t you love to see your late model Buick do a swan dive from the 39th floor? Good way to test its shocks.

Offer bungie and parachute jumping over the river. Just make sure you packed your passport in case the winds make you wind up in Windsor.

Fill one tower with infused water for all those enjoying Detroit’s magnificent River Walk. Lotsa taps all around the tower where walkers, joggers, cyclists could fill their Stanley cups, less than a mile from where the Detroit Red Wings won their Stanley Cups. Joe Louis Arena is long gone but the ground remains hallowed. Hey…it’s all marketing, go with it.

In reality, the RenCen will probably become the banal “mixed-use” property with a variety of residences, hotels, stores, restaurants and maybe once in a while, sponsored races around the circulation ring.

I can’t wait to see how Mary Barra and master developer Dan Gilbert will reimagine the RenCen, because love it or hate it, it would be a colossal shame if our city’s signature bundle of glass towers was allowed to go down the tubes.

The Coronation Rumination

I had no intention of watching Charlie’s coronation but one of the mixed blessings of aging is the inability to sleep past 5 a.m. I mean, you’re either hungry, gotta pee, or both. Usually both. So I was up.

Satisfied the latter first, then settled in with a bowl of Raisin Bran, a cuppa coffee, the digital N.Y. Times then whispered “blimey!” to myself, so as not to awaken the other inmates of my house.

I trundled over to the computer, found the NYT’s live feed of the ceremony and gawked at the screen watching an ancient rite that reminded me of an attempt back in the 1970’s to initiate me into the Elks Club. At least they served wine and cheese and they didn’t hide me while pouring old oil on me.

I’ll admit, it was fascinating for awhile, then disturbing. On what was supposed to be the best day of Charlie’s life, next to that blissful night with his polo pony, his literal crowing glory, he looked like someone about to undergo a colonoscopy with a fire hose.

When the Archbishop of Canterbury performed the actual crowning, he seemed to screw the thing on Charlie’s noggin’ and I’m imagining Charlie thinking, “balls, it fit in the store!”

Regardless of your opinion of the monarchy, the coronation was a rare opportunity to witness a version of a process a thousand years old and hadn’t occurred in over 70 years, or roughly as long as “The Simpsons” has been on TV.

So I was watching Charlie’s face and demeanor throughout. Some body language experts later said it showed he was taking his ascension to the throne very seriously as well as feeling the weight of his new responsibilities, which include, mainly, not dying.

I’m thinking the guy is 74 and has very mixed feelings about the whole turn of events. On the upside, he’s finally King of England, but on the downside he only got the job because his beloved mother passed away.

The other downside is he and the new Queen had to wave to his subjects from the balcony of Buckingham Palace wearing those crowns and looking like they just left a bad Halloween costume party.

But when you think of someone at last landing the job for which he’d been preparing most of his life, it makes you think of your own career. You work hard, you put in the hours, you build relationships, you get the promotions you sought, maybe hired away for a prestigious, big bucks position then get to the point where it dawns on you how much you gave up for all that.

It happened to me a couple of times and then it hit me how much time I lost with my family traveling around, chasing stories, going on business trips. I made some good dough, but missed the priceless part of life.

So I retired early. I have a couple of very part-time freelance gigs I enjoy that allow me to use my skills but after almost seven years I’m reducing my load even further.

Which brings me back to King Charles III. He got the job at last. Performed all the duties required of royals. He had no competition since as long as he was alive when his mother died, he was next in line.

But you have to wonder if the old chap feels any satisfaction, any sense of accomplishment, retains any goals, or, instead, wonders if the whole thing was worth the wait.

Well, now, at age 74, he’s stuck with a big, new job for the rest of his days. Kings don’t tend to retire and join pickleball leagues.

Yeah, that’d make me take on a dour demeanor if someone plunked heavy headgear on me and hollering for an unknown guy in the sky to save me.

Personally, I wouldn’t be surprised if the newly crowned King Charles III snuck a peek at his youngest son, relegated to the third row, thinking, “lucky bastard, he escaped while he was still alive.”