The Midwest Ethos

Having lived and worked in the midwest, the west, and the south, it's sometimes difficult for me to understand those back-easters. Unlike many of my midwestern acquaintances, I adapted to the pace of life in New Orleans quickly. What's the rush? They thought us northerners were always talking too fast and in too much of a hurry.

And there were the L-A years - laid back is not a cliche, but a descriptor. It's true. I fit right in. They did business at the speed of light and did life at the speed of baseball. Midwesterners take some things for granted, like snow in winter. My morning started with Dunkin' Donuts Dark Roast and The Today Show, where they sent one of the anchorettes to do a live-shot in Central Park, to lend credibility to the weatherman's assertion that it was snowing in Noo Yawk. She craftily gestured on-camera with a panoramic arm-swoosh to help illustrate that flakes of snow were actually falling, and that the city was bracing for TWO INCHES of accumulation which would most certainly make for a challenging day. The local weather mavens in Madison, often the target of my snarkiness, would use that snowfall amount in a sentence such as "an Alberta clipper is going to pass through today, but it's not going to be that big a deal and won't amount to much...just a couple inches of snow".

Then, I had a Facebook exchange with a friend who co-anchored a morning radio show with me back in the mid-90's in Madison, who's now a star co-anchor of a very high-rated St. Louis morning radio show. She groused about the Missouri drivers on the freeway at 4 AM on her way to work, slipping and sliding everywhere on the six inches of snow they got overnight and early this morning, and how they didn't know jack about driving in snow. She was raised in the Chicago suburbs and knows a thing or two about driving in snow.

I may need to put in a sub-category here of "UPPER-midwesterners", to deal with this snow-driving thing. But I digress.

I can't decide if Washington DC is a "southern" city or an "eastern" city. We midwesterners think the east-coasters are wound a bit too tightly, and that southerners are a bit too unravelled. So it was with some surprise that I heard on the news last night that congress might actually push back that "deadline" for the digital conversion of television signals. I suppose congress is somewhat of a melting pot for all geographical appelations, but I would have bet money they wouldn't move the deadline. See what happens if you file your taxes on April 16th. I've already ranted on this blog about what "deadline" means to people in the news profession.

The item on the local TV news last night about the Senate approving the delay was followed by a scripted remark (God forbid the anchorette would go off-script!!!!) that THIS station, like the others in Madison, were already prepared for the digital conversion, and that THIS station was going ahead with the plan to shut off the analog broadcast on the 17th of next month. I interpret that as a "midwest" thing. We understand what deadlines are, and we meet them. Not that those in other parts of the country don't; it's just the "midwest work ethic" thing that we don't view a deadline as an arbitrary date or time which can be negotiated. Without going too deeply into the technical side of things, it costs money (electricity) to run transmitters, and if you're running two, it's more expensive than running one.

If the broadcasters lobby was as strong as the bankers lobby, my friends who own TV stations would be awash in bailout money.

In Loco Parentis (Monster Trucks and Dead Ducks)

Ed Murrow warned us in the 50's that TV could turn out to be little more than a box with wires and lights; Newton Minnow in the 60's called it a vast wasteland. Today, it's America's cheapest baby-sitter. Just plunk the kids down in front of the tube and go about your other business. As I've noted before, Madison Wisconsin is the world's home office for nanny-staters....everyone must be protected by state, federal, and municipal government from all ills and threats, real or imagined.

In that spirit, local TV news is fully on-board, with regular feature segments about how to be a parent, how to care for your child, how to protect your child from the horrors out there (real or imagined). So, when the annual Monster Truck event was held here this past weekend, and the announcer/promoter accidentally stepped out in front of one of the behemoths and was almost literally ground into the dirt at the floor of the Dane County Coliseum, the local TV's went into full-protect-mode. Hundreds, if not thousands of children were there and witnessed the horrible and untimely death of the man. The first round of news stories centered on the mothers who were there with their children, and how traumatized the children were, and how tragic it was. The second round of news stories featured the videotape of the hapless announcer, looking to his left as one of the giant trucks bore down on him from his right. Clearly, the photographer(s) had captured the moment of impact, but the news bosses "tastefully" stopped the tape a nanosecond before the eight-foot-tall left front tire of the monster machine mowed down the six-foot-tall man. And then they ran that loop about five times to make sure we understood what had happened. Presumably, the traumatized children weren't in the TV audience to see it all unfold again, several times over.

The second-day lead at one of the local TV's was "How to Help Your Children Deal With The Trauma Of The Dead Monster-Truck Announcer". (Is anyone seeing any irony here yet?) One of the reporterettes was dispatched to find a suitable expert, who gave the ground-breaking advice that if the kids wanted to talk about it, the parent should talk with the child about it; if the child didn't want to talk about it, the parent shouldn't attempt to force a discussion; and then, the piece de resistance: if the child seemed troubled about the incident even after talking about it, the parent should consult a psychologist. See how helpful TV is?! Who would have thought of that, on their own??

The very next story on this particular station was about a couple snowmobilers in the next county over, who mowed down somewhere between 50 and 60 ducks on the frozen surface of a river. We were treated to shot after shot of the dead ducks, close-ups of the blood and guts on the ice, close-ups of the dismembered and bloody bodies of the ducks, and a medium-shot of municipal workers, stacking up the duck bodies about five high on the shoreline. Two and a half minutes of dead ducks, all in glorious hi-def.

Is it just me who senses the cognitive dissonance of spending two and a half minutes telling you how to deal with a child who's been traumatized by something they've seen....followed by two and a half minutes of close-ups of bloody, dismembered dead ducks? And - I'm not making this up - the dead ducks story was followed by a commercial for the Pheasants Forever event in town this weekend. TV- ya gotta love it.

Criminal Stupidity

He's very sad because "one of his boys" is "gone" and he's not coaching or teaching at his favorite school any more. So says coach Jason Stinson, who now faces charges in Kentucky for causing the death of a 15-year-old football player, Max Gilpin, on a hot August day last summer. What kind of sub-cretin moron denies water to an athlete during a hard workout in the hot summer sun? The kind of ignorant pro-jock wannabee who all too often populates the ranks of high school coaching.

Coaching is as much about authority as it is about learning, training, and development. The virtues of playing team sports don't need extolling or enumeration here. What needs to be said is that too many of those men - and women -who are drawn to coaching, are people who perhaps came close to excelling at a sport, but never made that leap to the next level. It's a position with great influence and status in the community, and there are countless coaches who have contributed to the positive development of millions of young men and women. All coaches are teachers, and the vast majority in the high school ranks are dedicated servants of youth and sport. But there are too many Jason Stinsons out there who are martinets operating with marginal IQ and an overabundance of authority.

No doubt the young athlete didn't want to appear to be "weak" by asking for a water break. You've got to be "tough". At the age of 15, Max Gilpin probably didn't even understand the signals his overheated body was sending him. He hadn't yet acheived the fine-tuned sensitivity the veteran athlete attains about his body. When he most needed a true coach, Stinson failed him. In the great state of Kentucky on that hot August day, horses were being given better treatment than the young athletes in that Louisville suburb. Any fool knows that you can't run a horse hard in hot and humid weather without plenty of water breaks.

It's a good thing I won't be in the jury pool for this case. My mind's already made up. Criminal stupidity in the first degree.

Say WHAT?

Most good coaches, like politicians, lawyers, and P-R pro's, have mastered the art of saying nothing by saying something. Fans of the Badger basketball team know that Bo Ryan is as good at this as any coach that ever lived. This morning's delicious tidbit of nothing is Bo's answer to a State Journal sports reporter's question about Trevon Hughes, and whether he'll be playing against Illinois Saturday. Hughes was mysteriously benched for the Iowa debacle. Bo's reply: "He'll be ready to play. He just has to be careful on his decisions and make sure the game is out there in front of him, not things that you have to try to over-create."

Say WHAT? First, this masterfully-created response avoids the real question, which is whether Hughes will play. He's "ready" to play. Poor question; great response. Doesn't answer the question. Then, the "dismiss and re-direct" which is so critical to sales, public relations, and politics....moving quickly off-topic to something that muddies the waters. "Be careful on his decisions and make sure the game is out there in front of him"? What the hell does THAT mean? Look both ways before crossing Dayton Street in front of the Kohl Center? And what is "over-creating"...a turn of phrase the coach was most pleased with, analogizing in the "raw" videotape that if the artist uses too much paint, it ruins the canvas. Bo is really great at this stuff.

A little farther down on the sports page is the story about the Brewers' young slugger, Prince Fielder, and his new deal with the team. 18 million over two years. He made 670 grand last year, and in arbitration as of Tuesday, he was asking for 8 million and the Brewers were offering 6 million. So they settled at......18 million over two years. Say WHAT? He wanted 8 million a year, but had to settle for 9 million. Say WHAT? The AP story doesn't break down how the contract will be administered, probably because that's not even finalized yet, but....ya gotta wonder. Is it a million the first year, and 17 million the next? A straight 9 mil a year? No matter how ya divvy it up, it's one whale of a raise, akin to the kind of bonuses Wall Street bankers get for running their companies aground.

And, over coffee and strawberries and the State Journal this morning, I had on one of the local TV morning shows, and the anchor-ette announced that the current time was 6:47. One hopes she'll tell us when she's announcing a time that's not "current". Say WHAT?

The Speech

Outside of the penchant all politicians have for talking too long, the speech did not disappoint. I refer, of course, to the Inauguration Address made by President Obama. My favorite part came toward the end when he talked about the icy blasts and storms that may lie ahead. One thing seems certain - there will be change. The country will be on a different path than the one we've been on the past eight years.

I don't think it will go down as one of the best Inauguration Addresses ever given, but it sent a clear message that we've got to change the way we do business with the rest of the world, the way we use our power, and the way we do business here at home. I think he was pretty clear that the immediate challenges are daunting, but the constant theme of "hope" that permeated his campaign was clear in the speech as well - we're up to the challenge, and we've handled challenges like this before, as Americans.

For a boy who grew up in a small town in Wisconsin, and whose first encounter with black people was at a visit to Milwaukee, it was truly moving to see a black man standing in the sunlight in front of the Capitol addressing the huge throngs that had gathered on the National Mall. My high school graduating class consisted of 88 people, and every face was white. Every teacher was white. Everyone who lived in the village was white. I didn't really know any black people until I got to college, and in the mid-60's there were precious few black faces on campus.

We've come a long way as a nation to elect a man of color to our highest office, and his speech made it clear that there's a long, tough road ahead. President Obama is intelligent, dynamic, and comes to the office with a mandate for change. He's shown tremendous ability to build diverse coalitions to get things done. He'll need vision and courage to end "business as usual" in Washington and push the nation forward. I think he's up to the challenge. Godspeed, President Barack Obama.

Celebrating Dr. King's Day (A Tribute to Sybil Morial)

Those of us who are self-employed must decide how best to observe Dr. King's holiday. There's no "day off"; but it's important to me to mark the day in some way. Ever since I lived in New Orleans back in the mid-80's, I've marked the day by spending some time thinking about the struggles of the people who helped change history. Through an accident of timing and opportunity, I got to learn about some of those struggles from people who "were there", on the front lines.

We'd been living in New Orleans a few months, and I'd already secured a part-time gig at WWL-AM. I guess I was hired because I'd learned to pronounce many of the unusual street names in the Big Easy and knew that Treme was two syllables, among other things. I wanted a full-time gig to supplement the radio income, and answered an ad in a New Orleans business publication for a person with a background in marketing and telecommunications. Long story short, I was hired on the spot by Sybil Morial at Xavier University. I didn't know it then, but she hired me in her mind when I answered her question "what brought a Wisconsin boy to New Orleans?". I told her, truthfully, that my wife had been sent there by her Chicago-based company to set up a joint health-care venture with the Ochsner institutions, and I'd "come along for the ride" and the chance to live in one of the world's most exciting cities.

That was all Mrs. Morial had to hear...that I'd FOLLOWED my wife down to the city that care forgot. Of course, my background and qualifications were perfect for the job, but those questions came later in the interview. I knew at the time that this petite woman who was doing the hiring had the same name as the fellow I'd read so much about....Ernest "Dutch" Morial, the first black mayor of New Orleans. It didn't take me long to figure out that I was sitting across the desk from his wife. The young man I met a few weeks later, her son Marc, would go on to follow his dad into the mayor's job and then become head of the National Urban League. One of the reasons Mrs. Morial liked my answer about "following my wife" was that it was, to say the least, an "unusual" response. In Louisiana, the man was king of the domicile. Women, even in 1984, held a VERY subservient position in business and in society. Mrs. Morial, in addition to being an academic Dean at a highly prestigeous University, also owned a travel agency in the Central Business District, and was a successful woman in her own right. Yet, she was "Dutch's wife" to most everybody in New Orleans. One time, not too long after she'd hired me, she took me to lunch. She drove. Brand new BMW, 5-series sedan. NICE ride. I commented on it. She said "open the glove box and look at the registration". It was registered to Ernest N. Morial. Dutch. She said "Dutch did not give me this car. I bought it myself with my own money. And yet the Motor Vehicle people will not register it in my name". That was far from the only story I heard about the second-class status of women in the South. Not only did Mrs. Morial have to fight the battles that all people of color had to fight in the South, she had the additional struggle of being a woman in the South.

One time I asked her about Dr. King and if she knew him. She did. Her roommate at Boston College was a young woman named Coretta Scott. So it's fair to say she knew Dr. King VERY well and in a way probably not a lot of people did, being one of the closest friends of Dr. King's wife. And she knew Maynard Jackson, the first black mayor of Atlanta, and was on a first-name basis with him and scores of other people of color who'd fought so hard to get where they were.

Of all the places I've lived and worked as an itenerant broadcaster, and of all the people I've worked for and with, few have made as strong an impression on me as Mrs. Morial. None faced the struggles she did and excelled to her level. So, on Dr. King's day, I will spend a great deal of time remembering Sybil Morial, and all the doors she opened for me in New Orleans, and all the things she taught me about overcoming the odds.

So, How Cold IS It???

Images of brass monkeys and well-digger's BEE-hinds come to mind. Ah, the cliche'. As young news writers back in the day, we were told a million times to avoid cliches like the plague. (Get it?) At least I've got my health. And on and on. And we knew the difference between "literal" and "figurative". Within arm's reach right now is my well-worn copy of "Warriner's English Grammar and Composition", stolen from Hortonville High School in 1964. (Miss Hince, God rest your grammar-teaching soul, forgive me.....)

OK, it's cold. When I got up this morning, my digital thermometer read -19.7. That would be degrees Fahrenheit, for the sticklers among us. I can't tell you how many discussions I've had over the years in training on-air broadcasters to say "nineteen below zero" rather than "minus 19 degrees". I've always preached the conversational style, but it's largely fallen on deaf ears. The young folks who write news now have never seen nor heard of Warriner's Grammer and Comp, and apparently they've never been taught about avoiding cliches. They learned to read one word at a time, so when they see "-19", they say "minus nineteen", without converting it to the spoken English of "nineteen below". They can say "Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water", but when they're READING it on-air, they say "Jack and Jill went up thee hill to fetch ay pail of water". A mentor of mine called that the "ay-thee disease" so many broadcasters have.

One of the news reporters on TV last night said "Madison has literally become an ice cube". Really? Didn't notice, but then, I live in the Township of Madison, not the city. Maybe things are different a few miles away, and the city has become an ice cube.

But I digress. As newspapers fail and fold (the Minneapolis Star-Trib went bankrupt yesterday, joining the long parade), the news broadcasters will briefly enjoy a period of increased importance in news dissemination, until the internet truly dominates "mainstream media". Yet, when it gets to be twenty below in Wisconsin in the second week of January, every year they'll continue to drag out the same old cliches. "Imagine what it would be like if you had to work outside in this weather!!!" shouted the news promo on a local channel last night. Gee, never thought of doing a story with somebody who has to work outside when it's cold...that's never been done before. New ground broken - NOT. All the local stations, radio and TV, have been peppered this week with the predictable stories about people who work in meat lockers and ice-cream storage warehouses (the same stories will be re-done in July or August, when we get a week of 90+ weather), and they'll follow around some USPS letter carrier, making his or her appointed rounds in the bitter cold.

The Facebook pages of the local broadcasters...many of them personal friends of long standing...are filled this week with back-and-forth about how idiotic these stories are. Yet, they continue to follow the orders of the boss, who says "do a cold weather story". One wag commented on a local TV reporter's Facebook post about bundling up to go outside and do a cold-weather story, "so, we can't know how cold it is unless you stand outside when you're doing the story?"...and another poster said "how stupid that you're going to have to do the story outside, to tell us we shouldn't be outside".

'nuff said. The consumers of the news are more savvy than the people who decide what the news is.

And they wonder why so many news sources are foundering.