Territory Folks Should Stick Together

In the wake of yesterday's horrible news helicopter crash here in Seattle, the Rogers and Hammerstein lyrics from Oklahoma come to mind. "The Farmer and the Cowman should be friends." Journalists and public relations professionals don't always see eye to eye. But during my career, I've gotten to know reporters who understand both sides of the situation and photo-journalist Bill Strothman, who sadly died in yesterday's accident, was one of them.

I can't say we were friends but we always recognized each other when we were working a story. Our careers spanned about the same amount of time and he and I stood around together on countless occasions waiting for the news to happen. Mostly we would chat about what was going on in town but, because I started out as a correspondent and teach media relations at the University of Washington, I was always anxious to get Bill's take on the world around us.

Bill had a wonderful sense of the news and was a model of the ethics that make good reporting work.  He knew where not to go with his camera and he knew when the time was right. An affable, comfortable person, he never pushed when we were together.  He'd listen and, even when he had no reporter with him, he knew to ask the questions that would fill in the blanks.

One of my mentors told me that the best public relations comes from being a good reporter. I try to always take the media's side when finding the news in a story. Bill Strothman was the kind of person who helped me see through the clutter on a daily basis.

I'm glad I knew him and my heart goes out to his family and his colleagues at KOMO News. The tragic loss of Bill and the pilot Gary Pfitzner is being felt by the entire community. For me, all of us in the communications business are trying to tell stories in a way that people can understand and relate to them. Whether it's reporting or promoting, we should have the same goal in mind. Effective communications is what we want. No matter which side of the fence we're on. Like the song says. "Territory folks should stick together." That's important now more than ever. For certain, I know we've lost a gracious advocate in Bill Strothman and we'll miss him.

Gone Native...

You’re a native of the place where you were born. Being a local means you’ve lived there for a very long time.  The distinction may be subtle but, to many, it’s important.

The 50^th Anniversary of the Seattle World’s Fair has brought the Seattle natives out in full force.  Everywhere I go it seems someone is talking about their early years either right before or right after the Fair. There are natives everywhere but Seattle’s distinct personality makes being born here something a little more special. Yakima, Spokane, Wenatchee, Tacoma, even Bellevue don't count. I'm talking Seattle city limits. Knowing your parents best friends and growing up with their children are badges of honor. Learning to ski in the passes as a child and hiking at Mt. Rainier on the weekends made for the best kind of childhood.  Being a babe in arms when the World’s Fair came along or having your mother carry you to the first round of King Tut in the 70’s or seeing the last movie at the 5^th Avenue Theatre are privileged experiences …and being a Patches Pal, well, what more can you say than that.

It was the 50^th Anniversary of the groundbreaking for the Space Needle that got me started thinking about Seattle natives.  I was asked to find as many of the folks involved in envisioning, building and opening the Needle as I could.  It was quite an interesting task and the group of people assembled said a lot about  Seattle and its natives.  The most common denominators are a pioneering spirit and an entrepreneurial bent. Seattle’s settlers were lumberjacks, fishermen, forest rangers and businessmen…and women. And their children and their children’s children inherited that drive.

When we had three generations of Seattle Natives painting the roof of the Space Needle back to its original color of galaxy gold, my friend C. David Hughbanks was flooded with memories of working at the World’s Fair. It made him giddy. And local writer extraordinaire, Knute “Skip” Berger, who pens regularly under the name “Mossback” (he looks like one too) relishes every minute of growing up here. Right down to seeing the Space Needle under construction from the Smith Tower as an 8-year-old Cub Scout.

Though in many ways I now wish I was, I am not a native.  Seattle has become my life.  I got in just under the wire before former daily columnist Emmett Watson formed the KBO, “Keep the Bastards Out”.  I was here to see Bill Kirschner build his first pair of red, white and blue K2 Skis on Vashon Island. And I was here to watch Jan sewing up bags that would go on the new framepacks named after her “JanSport”.  I knew Gordon Bowker before he went to Italy and came back with an affinity for coffee that he named Starbucks. The only Bill Gates we first heard about was Senior, who was our corporate lawyer. I could go on but still, I’m not a native.

I actually envy people who have lived in one place all their lives…even those who went away and then came back. Until I came to Seattle, I was a military transient.  My father was overseas when I was born and didn’t see me until I was almost 2 years old…had to be shocking, I’m sure. Mom and I lived with the grandparents on their farm until dad got home. Then I have vague recollections of a couple different houses and communities where we lived but, by the time I started school, we were on a non-stop one-year-turn-around… 13 schools (all public) in 12 years (two 5^th grades). Although college and grad school found me in one place for most of five years, my parents moved three times while I was getting my degrees before settling in the “Other” Washington.

 My “lifetime” friends are all from college and beyond.  Recollections of my public school days are frankly pretty dim.  I barely had time to get to know my classmates before moving on. The first 20 years of my life were mostly about the experiences, not the people…although Jayne Mansfield and Mickey Hargitay did bring their daughter Mariska to our house for dinner one time…but that’s another story.

First generation Seattlites are a breed among themselves. Some speak Norwegian or Swedish.  Others, Chinese or Canadian or Yiddish. I have to say that some of my best friends are natives.  The stories they tell about parents and grandparents growing this city fascinate me to no end. Building skyscrapers like the Smith Tower. Digging the ship canal. Putting in Highway 99, the only freeway we had for years. And, perhaps the ultimate, being involved in building the Space Needle. That is an unparalleled benchmark in this town.

When someone tells me that they know so-and-so because they went to BF Day Elementary or Franklin High School with them or that their best friends were Beavers too (Ballard, that is), I know I’m in the presence of a true homey.  In deference to my Cougar friends, UW is virtually a pre-requisite higher-ed experience for the natives. As is being an original member of the Brothers Four folk group. And if you worked at the World’s Fair, driving a pedi-cab, working at an international pavilion or selling balloons, you hold a treasured place in many hearts.

Seattle natives are a discerning group.  Some have even left the city because “it’s not really Seattle anymore”.  It’s even changed pretty dramatically since I’ve been here.  The percentage of out-of-towners to natives is much larger now. Sometime I’ll tell you the story of the president of a major local bank (no longer in existence) saying that he and his senior management group agreed that the presentation by my new company was by far the best they’d heard but they just couldn’t do business with someone who wasn’t originally from Seattle.

In spite of all the rambling I did in my younger years, I’ve spent most of my adult life in Seattle. I’m often asked if all the moving around I did was hard on a kid.  My answer is that some take to it and others don’t.  Either way, it does often make you a different kind of person.  You’re not easily rattled. You’re very independent. And you’re more tolerant of others, less religious and much more liberal in your thinking than your parents. All qualities that seem to mesh pretty well with Seattle natives.

Being a Seattle native is a position of note. It’s seldom flaunted. After four decades or so here, I am still not a native. However, I do know where a lot of the bodies are buried and I can go cross-town from east to west pretty quickly by totally using residential streets. Finally, after all this time, some of my native friends are willing to grant me special dispensation as a Semi-Local. Suffice it to say, I've gone native in Seattle and I love it.

Seattle...such a place!

A few days ago, I was backstage at McCaw Hall after opening night of the Nutcracker ballet. We were there to toast the 25th anniversary of this production which is regarded by many as the quintessential ballet experience for everyone. In fact, this production is one of most stunning creative collaborations that has ever been brought to the stage at the holidays. Kent Stowell, choreographer and then co-artistic director with wife, Francia Russell, joined forces with famed illustrator and designer Maurice Sendak to a create a magnificent event that rivals the very best stage productions in the world. As we lifted our glasses, it made me think about the road we have come down in this community over the past 25 years and what a remarkable trip it’s been.
If it doesn’t show, please know that I am biased. In 1978, my wife Jane was invited to join the board of directors of Pacific Northwest Ballet, then a fledgling company that was an off-shoot of the Seattle Opera. And she’s given her volunteer life to the organization to this day. It was exciting back then to feel the energy growing as Kent and Francia shaped and formed the company. The dancers came ready for anything and would often join with us volunteers to give backstage tours, making it up as we went along. We even did an event in the rehearsal studio called “Ballet for Two Left Feet” where people like me actually danced with Kent and Francia’s instruction…I was best at bowing. When we did “Ballet for Four Left Feet” the next year, we novices danced with real dancers from the company. It was then that I found out just how light ballerinas are. Let’s just say my lifts were a bit too ambitious a couple of times…I may have scared them a little but no one was hurt.
Five years later, Kent Stowell’s Nutcracker debuted with eye-boggling sets and costumes by Maurice Sendak. This was a transitional and landmark event for Pacific Northwest Ballet. There are a handful of companies across the country that critics give credence to and then we were ready to become one of them. The toast that night was with plastic cups but it could not have been more fulfilling. Still there was the heart-stopping moment when the Christmas tree starts to grow…the journey up was far less dependable then than it is today. But that night, this company stepped into the spotlight on the world ballet stage and made their presence known. It seemed to me that the dancers even impressed themselves.
As the decades have passed, Seattle has blossomed and grown in so many ways. Then the Mariners were new and so was the Kingdome. The Seahawks were the talk of the town. But it was the arts that were carving out a more revered place in our community and the ballet was the new kid on the block. I drew my newest client Citicorp into the fray to help finance that first production. My young company even produced the first souvenir program, which we designed and wrote by committee on Kent and Francia’s living room floor. The private-public marriage with the performing arts in this community is a thing to behold. DDB, with the astute community vision of Ron Elgin, has always been there to lend a hand to the Ballet, as well as, to many other arts organizations…and we are not the exception, we’re the rule.
Today, Seattle and the Pacific Northwest Ballet are the envy of almost everyone outside of Manhattan. Our arts community shines in every corner and, as a place to live, our city is sumptuous. Opening night of this year’s Nutcracker brought the memories of the past quarter century flooding back. It was such a gala evening in such a magnificent hall. The dancers were so “on” that it gave you chills to watch them. Pacific Northwest Ballet says so much about Seattle. It’s like our personality. It’s like our life. We just know we can do it ourselves, whatever it is. We like being on the edge and we know how to live…even if we are “in the woods”. I'm so proud. What a place we live in!
Posted by Dan McConnell on December 11, 2008 4:48 PM Permalink