We've got to stop fighting

It was half-time at the Rose Bowl and the Fightin’ Hoosiers still had a chance to beat USC (OJ Who?). I was in graduate school working for the athletic department and spotting (you can’t know the players without a spotter) down on the field for the NBC cameras. One of my very best friends had chosen to do his active duty in the Army before getting his advanced degree. I, as I’ve said before in these pages, opted to finish school first because I didn’t think I would want to go back after the service. As I was walking toward the dressing room, I heard my name called and it was my friend’s brother who was producer of the Nightly News and working on the Rose Bowl Special for NBC. It was good to see him. He was part of a very close family and I knew he would have news of my friend’s tour. “Art’s been wounded,” he said. My heart sank. “How badly?” “It was a mortar attack but he’s going to be alright.” “I’m so relieved,” I said. “Art will be coming home,” he told me.

This was the first time it really registered in my mind that we were fighting a war in Vietnam that had very personal consequences. Sadly, I lost many friends to that war but my close friend Art made it. We spent a lot of time together during his recuperation at Walter Reed Hospital in DC where I was living and eventually working on Capitol Hill. We talked endlessly about our lives and where we were headed as we confronted our future. I have to say that there is a bond that forms in these highly stressful situations that is very strong and long lasting.

We didn’t beat OJ in the Rose Bowl but made a very respectable showing, losing 14-3, on the only trip the school has made there since that day. I left Pasadena the next day for an interview with United Airlines in Denver. After I got my masters degree, I didn’t take that job but went to work on Capitol Hill for John Gardner and Bill Ruckelshaus, among others. A short few months later, I received my orders to report to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, for gunnery school in the Field Artillery. I signed in on the Fourth of July with my new wife, Jane, in tow after being married just six days earlier in DC.

I come from a military family. My father was a career officer in the Army. His branch was Field Artillery as well. I think the word “brat” is bit harsh but still growing up on military posts does give you a different view of the world. I never considered NOT serving my tour. I spent a lot of time away from Jane and, I guess, I began the travel that has become second nature in my professional career. I was working on secret weapons projects for the war that took me many places that I shouldn’t have been. The Army kept me in a few months longer than my tour was scheduled for because one of those projects was finishing up.

Being in the Army during an unpopular war is character building. We’re right back in that place again. Today we seem to have gained a new respect for our troops which is heartening to me. I like the word “patriot”. The definition is one who loves, supports and defends one’s country. I can live with that. We are very fortunate to live in a remarkable experiment called democracy. I’m proud to be a patriot and a veteran. I’m proud of all those who are serving in the military today. The Army is even more important than it has ever been. The Middle East is a scary place for Americans. I have great respect for the troops who are there now. My father, a veteran of two wars, would be proud of them too, God rest his soul. I’m thinking of him and my friend Art and those we lost to war. We’ve got to stop the fighting.

Just how proud can one person be?

Jane McConnell has done many great things in her career besides being by my side every step of the way. She created a successful business from scratch and edited and produced a research tool that had no equal and never saw a significant challenge from competitors. She’s managed big events in domed stadiums and concert halls. She kept track of the media attending many, many events… even scolded them for smoking in unapproved places. She’s headed fundraising campaigns that have helped build beautiful new buildings and found donors in every corner you can imagine. She’s mentored performers and taught children and young adults in every social strata. She’s done goat races in Jamaica, boat races in Falmouth, England and even organized an enticing breakfast for drunks in every corner of the world. And I don’t know a soul who doesn’t think she’s a queen.

So I’m going out on a limb here when I say that the closest thing to Jane’s heart is ballet…the Pacific Northwest Ballet to be exact. This fall she is being honored in many ways for over 30 years of devout commitment to that organization. Yesterday, she was named a Trustee Emeritus, a very exclusive club indeed. If that doesn’t make her a queen, I don’t know what does. Earlier this summer, a performance was dedicated to her and I’m not the only one who said they usually only do that when you’re dead. She already has an annual scholarship in her name for promising students in the school. These are stunning tributes to a woman who cares deeply about everyone and everything that her world touches. And these tributes say that the people in her world know what she’s done.

Her focus at the ballet has been on the Pacific Northwest Ballet School. She knows the staff, the students and the parents intimately. She has taken on every role imaginable to help the school succeed and grow. She even found a French cookie maker to provide the celebration snacks after Nutcracker performances. That’s when the students get their annul chance to shine in front of the ballet’s most exciting audience. She even talked me into giving backstage tours and once participating in something called Ballet for Two Left Feet…using some moves that I am very familiar with.

The Ballet School was the domain of Francia Russell, co-artistic director of the company with her husband Kent Stowell until they recently retired. Jane and Francia have become fast friends and confidantes. I know that they listen to each other and even argue occasionally because in the end they always agree. When the School dedicated the performance of La Source to Jane, Francia was quoted in the program and her words about Jane were so special.

“Jane has devoted endless time, thought and energy to her responsibilities…Thoroughly versed in both the philosophy and the practical functioning of the School, she worked tirelessly toward the realization of our shared goals. In hundreds of meetings, Jane was the School’s spokeswoman and champion, the person who could not only answer every question but, at the same time, gently educate her listeners. Without realizing it herself, Jane set a new standard for committee chairmanship. A great lady, a woman of intelligence, sensitivity and strength, Jane cared for the staff and faculty of the School and she earned our lifelong respect and affection.”

Such a beautiful expression of respect and adoration. How proud can one person be? No more than in this moment of recognition for Jane. I am humbled by what she has done.

Jane started a tradition years ago by taking Francia and key staff members out for a holiday celebration during Nutcracker season. There was more inside talk there than you can imagine and it was for their ears only. I felt honored to be the only man invited but my job was very specific. I would take the annual group photo. I nibbled on the appetizers a bit but they usually shooed me away pretty quickly. However, I did learn something by going to that special gathering. There was a love of the art that was shared by everyone there. And that love was a bond between them. Jane belonged there. The bond would never be complete without her. These recognitions she has just received show that love and now she can be an important part of this ballet company forever, one of the best in the world, thanks in no small part to Jane McConnell. I love her.

One Kind Favor

The folk music groups of the 60’s were like the grunge bands of the mid-80’s. A guitar, a harmonica, a group of pals and an apartment or garage were all you needed to make some music. My good friend Bob Flick of Brothers Four fame likes to call it the music of America. We all knew the words and weren’t afraid to sing out.

But Peter, Paul and Mary were an exception to the rule. Most of the groups of the day came together serendipitously…friends, classmates, frat brothers and the like. PPM on the other hand were skilled professionals. They each had solo careers and were brought together by music producers who knew how to mix and match voices and styles. This was a match made in heaven.

I knew that Mary Travers had been ill for some time. Their PBS special had been repeated many times and last year, several of the well known groups from the era came together for a reunion concert. The ravages of cancer were evident but Mary pulled it off and her voice was clear and strong.

Mary was in her late 20’s when I met the group after a concert in suburban DC. She was a ball of fire then and her flame burned brightly throughout her career. Caught up in the music of the times, I formed several groups that served as warm-ups for the hot groups of the day and, as a result, I got to know Peter, Paul and Mary, the Brothers Four, the Kingston Trio and many of others. When I got to college I started to manage the concert schedule for groups like PPM and spent a lot of time in the backstage world.

Paul was a frustrated stand-up comic and rock and roller. Peter told me that he could be a Bolshevik, if it were only in style. Mary had a knack for bringing zen into almost any situation. Although the group became associated with the civil rights movement because of their performance at the “I have a dream” rally on the mall in 1963, their role as activists was never as strong as their success as performers, in my mind. “Lemon Tree” was not an anti-war cry and “Puff the Magic Dragon” was not about marijuana…it was a children’s song.

I had been around the folk music scene for several years when Mary Travers came up to me backstage and said “We’ve got to talk.” Good or bad? How was I to know. I was going to have the conversation regardless. The short version, you’re probably ready for that at this point, is their road manager was leaving and they were offering me the job. “You can always come back to school,” she said. “Peter is our only graduate and look at how he turned out.” Ha…some joke. Well, I didn’t take the job…CHICKEN!! I used the same logic about not coming back to school for more degrees after the army. I just knew I’d never do it.

Regardless, it was a flattering offer and I fantasized about it for a long time. Mary certainly made life on the road seem like it led to OZ. For her, it certainly did. After the news of her death, I received an email from a good high school and college friend who reminded me that on Father’s Day Weekend, I took him and his father backstage after the concert. When I introduced them to Mary, she told his father that he had “a great smile”. His father was touched by her graciousness. He never forgot it.

For some of us, our lives have a soundtrack. There is always music playing in my head. I like all kinds of music and some tune or song bubbles up to fit the occasion. My playlists for Friday Tunes at the agency were always an indication of the mood of the day or week. The music I play on long car trips is planned to fit the geography. Coincidentally, as we crossed the plains of eastern Washington a few weeks ago, I played Peter, Paul and Mary’s “In Concert” album. There is a song on that album called “One Kind Favor”. It’s not a happy song but it’s quiet and solemn and respectful. Peter, Paul and Mary brought much to the music of their times. They even helped Bob Dylan become a star…asking the nine questions of “Blowin’ in the Wind”. I like to think that PPM did us all “One Kind Favor”. They gave us the beauty, the grace, the voice and the heart of Mary Travers. She belongs to our times...forever.

Dan Mc

"Things just don't get any better than this!" EMK

There is a time in our lives when all of us, even those who call ourselves “independents”, make a turn to the left or right…at least, we lean one way or the other. For me, that juncture occurred in Washington, DC, in the mid to late 1960’s. The process started as I was finishing high school and going away to college. My father, a career army officer, had taken an assignment at the Pentagon and he encouraged me to get a summer internship on Capitol Hill. It was the Kennedy Administration and little did I, or my very-Republican father for that matter, realize how those years in DC would change my life and outlook.

My grandfather was a state leader in the Republican Party and had plenty of “good ol’ boy” contacts in DC so somehow I ended up as a Capitol Hill Intern. I spent summers and then a year as an intern before getting my first assignment as a legislative liaison. Simply stated, and it’s really not so simple, that job entails being assigned to congressional offices and helping write legislation that they are sponsoring. That first assignment was in the office of the new senator from Massachusetts, Edward M. Kennedy. You were admonished if you didn’t call him Ted. He was barely in his 30’s and treated the entire staff as compatriots…he liked that word and used it a lot.

It was such an exciting time in DC. There was electricity surging through us all that made everything going on there seem earthshaking. I would spend many of my lunch hours in the Senate gallery watching history being made. I would often pass by Ted and his brother Bobby standing outside in the hall strategizing before they entered the chamber to speak or vote. The cadre of people that JFK brought to Washington with him was amazing. Each person fit the job they were given so well. And both Ted and Bobby made their presence known very quickly…Bobby in issues of civil rights and Ted in health care.

The first piece of legislation that I helped write was about health insurance and government reform…sound familiar? It was a small step but it moved the needle closer to the green “go” zone. It took two months to write and I was part of team that was laboring over every word. We met often with Ted and his colleague Birch Bayh, who he admired and respected. We debated. We argued over words. We were demoralized by the committees that wanted to change everything we had done. We laughed when we slipped something in that didn’t get noticed by the opposition. Ted made us feel a part of every step. He recommended books and even music that would push us down different roads to reach our goal. And he worked harder than anyone to see the process through, even though he was encountering twists and turns that he’d never seen before.

That small piece of legislation moved through the system and caused a change in the government’s support of hospital care for the underserved. We had a celebration in the office when we received the word. Ted Kennedy came up to me and asked if this was my first bill project. I said it was. He put his arm around me and said “Things just don’t get any better than this.” If I was leaning before that, it was then that I made a hard left turn in my life. Somehow I understood that we could make a difference in people’s lives and that change comes in small steps but every one counts. And Ted Kennedy became the master at making every piece of legislation count. He had no peer.

When I heard the news today of Ted Kennedy’s passing, I thought back to that time in the 60’s when the world was fresher and cleaner and safer. The Kennedy family changed our world. They pushed us down new roads as a country and a people. Ted and his brothers changed my view of life forever. I was able to stick my toe into the Clinton Administration and it was special. I envy those who are part of the Obama years. These are very exciting and challenging times. But when I think back over that time in the 60’s as Ted Kennedy and his family and friends came on the scene, things really haven’t gotten any better than that. Thanks, Ted, “the dream will never die”.

Dan Mc

You don't know how much we're going to miss the PI

The Seattle Post Intelligencer, at 146 our community's oldest continually operating business, is ceasing publication of its daily newspaper today. This is a loss to Seattle in so many ways. For us in the public relations profession, it is a loss of credibility and a loss of testimony that is at the heart of the work we do. This profession was built on the relationship we have with journalists who could tell the stories about our bosses and clients to the community with an unbiased voice. It’s a third-party testimonial that states the facts and gives credibility to the content. It’s not just us telling everyone that the company is good at what it does. It’s a reputable journalist validating what we say.

I don’t know a business person who doesn’t want to show or tell everyone about the story on their company that was written in the newspaper. That story is certainly one measurement of the success at messaging that we PR folks crave. Today, most business people know that public relations is more than publicity but there is still nothing like one of our stories being reported on by the news media.

We’re definitely in an electronic world where television and radio are instant reporters. But their stories are fleeting moments in an intensely fast-paced life that we all work in now. There is also much talk about the power of the internet. Even the PI is going to “continue its bloodline” with an online presence. The news of this change in the information world is really no longer news and the young people that have grow up with the internet are now tweeting and linking and facebooking their thoughts on an hourly basis. And they know, like most of us, that there is still one element of cyberspace that is a weak link…and that is the fact that there is no editor. Anyone can say anything anywhere and it’s up to us to believe it or not.

There is something about a hard copy newspaper that feels solid. It’s somehow easier to accept when it’s in your hands in print on a piece of paper that came from a tree. Without that foundation, the news business is truly 24/7 banter that is a becoming harder and harder to accept as “breaking news”…which everything seems to be these days.

Some great journalists are now trying to find other ways to do their reporting and commentating. There are over 150 who are being released as a result of the PI closure. They will find a way to give us the facts or their opinions but it will be harder to find them and their voices will be part of the din. I’ve worked in and around the newspaper business all my life. It is truly a valuable institution and one that has made our country stronger and safer. I thought I would tell a couple of reporter stories here but suffice it to say, some of my best friends are journalists. And as I tell my students at the University of Washington, it’s a job to them. They put their pants on one leg at a time, just like us. But they do it with integrity.

I loved to visit the PI when it was in the building at 6th and Denny. It felt like a newspaper should. The news room had a buzz that gave life to the news of the day. I met many of my reporter friends in the cafeteria there to talk about upcoming stories or to explain why things happened the way they did. It always seemed like a safe haven.

We are really going to miss the Seattle PI. As PR pros, we now have fewer sources to give credibility to our stories. Fewer ears to bend about what’s happening and what’s coming up. And we have less opportunity to have the community know about the projects, programs, products and services that affect their lives. We’ve got one daily newspaper left…but there’s no one to challenge them…no divergent opinions. Seattle has definitely lost a bit of its luster with the passing of the Post Intelligencer. Don’t forget to bookmark it on your search engine!

Dan Mc

A tribute to Sir Edmund Hillary

Not many people get to meet their heroes. And even fewer get to really connect with them. Since the early 1990s, I have had an ongoing relationship with Sir Edmund Hillary and his wife, June. When the news alert of his death hit my computer screen yesterday afternoon, it sent my thoughts flying. Here is some of what came to mind.

Sir Edmund Hillary Tribute Note

There are few real heroes...and most are indeed ordinary people who do extraordinary things. Sir Edmund Hillary was one of those who dignified the term "hero." His passing leaves this earth a more lonely and troubled place. His focus, drive, intellect and humble view of man's achievements were something to marvel in this life.

He had long been my hero when I was fortunate to host him on a visit to Seattle in 1992. When we met, a gaggle of "Sir Edmund"s came out of my mouth. He very quickly and casually said, "Please, just call me Ed."
I worked with him over the ensuing years on a number of projects. He hosted me in his home several times. Tea in his sitting room was so comfortable you could put your feet up and truly enjoy the conversation and the moment. Absolutely no pretense.

I asked him to fire the starting cannon at a round-the-world sailing race that had stopped in Auckland in 1999. When I went to the appointed place to pick him up, he had come with his wife June in their dated car and sat on the corner stoop watching the traffic until I arrived. We then went to the New Zealand Navy ship where he fired the cannon. As we walked across the deck, everyone, sailors and VIPs alike, recognized him as if he were an old friend...no bowing and scraping. He engaged in conversations about the news of the day and what was going on around the town. How refreshing.

Just a few months ago, I asked him to be part of an advisory board for an upcoming Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center Expedition. His response was that he appreciated the opportunity but he was unable to travel and now that he was 88, it was time for him to stop. As might be expected, he went on to say that "The project sounds so very worthwhile that we (he and June) both hope it is most successful and that the climbers have a great time in the process."

When I helped him with the promotion of his foundation and the 50th Anniversary of his Everest climb, Sir Edmund spoke very strongly about giving the mountain a rest...too much activity, too many people and too much waste. I'm trying to look at his death as a welcome peaceful rest for one of the world's most remarkable people. If we could all look at life the way he did, this world would be a more sane, rational and compassionate place.

I will miss you, Ed, very much.

Posted by Dan McConnell on January 14, 2008 8:23 AM Permalink

First Saturday in March is Susan Butcher Day

I am very proud that, under a bill just approved by the Alaska Legislature, the first day of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race will honor my good friend, Susan Butcher, a four-time champion of the 1049-mile endurance race. Susan was the second woman to win the Iditarod but was and forever will be first in the hearts of Alaskans and all who knew her. She died in August 2006 of leukemia.

Alaska House Bill 37 establishes the first Saturday of every March as Susan Butcher Day. The State Senate on Monday approved the measure on a 14-2 vote. The Alaska House approved the measure unanimously in 2007, the first of the two-year session, but the bill languished in a Senate committee until recently. Gov. Sarah Palin says she will sign the bill and March 1 will officially be Susan Butcher Day in the State of Alaska.
Susan and I came together over 20 years ago, early in her career, and we saw a lot of the world together, along with some very cold days on the tundra between Anchorage and Nome. She was a remarkable woman. When she passed away, I wrote my reflections about her, which follow here. Neither man nor beast could best Susan Butcher. My life is better having known her.

Susan Butcher…one of a kind

This business of public relations occasionally presents us the opportunity to make a connection with individuals who are one of a kind. Susan Butcher was one of a kind…tough, talented, independent, focused and driven. These were just some of the adjectives that described an athlete who made an indelible mark on the world of sport in a truly unique endeavor…Alaska’s great race, the Iditarod.

When I met Susan for lunch here in Seattle just over 20 years ago, she had tongue-tied Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show the night before on national television and made him laugh hysterically. We were introduced by a mutual friend and had come together to talk about Susan’s future as a competitor in the grueling 1100-mile cross-country sled dog race from Anchorage to Nome. She told me that day that she was going to win the race many times and that she needed to make a more effective connection with the “Lower 48” as we are known to many Alaskans, in order to accomplish all that she wanted.

We forged a bond that day that led us down many trails over the past two decades. Susan won the race, just as she said she would, and she won it four times convincingly. Many times, we took her coast to coast where she fascinated major media, enamored sponsors from Purina to Allied Fibers and mesmerized numerous captains of industry with her inspiring presentations. We made a national public television documentary of her story that is still the definitive tale of that incredible race with Susan at the center of it. We went to Japan with a group of world-class adventurers including the likes of Sir Edmund Hillary, who lined up with everyone else to hear Susan’s tales of the Iditarod. She was married at her home north of Fairbanks on a beautiful sunny afternoon at this time of year in a special ceremony with her closest friends…her dogs…as ring bearers…and her native Alaskan soulmates who brought blessed salmon that they had caught the day before on the other side of the state for the evening meal.

As time progressed, she and her loving husband David decided to start a family. Even that didn’t alter their routine or the racing. They just made some alterations in roles and responsibilities and kept on mushing. However, there is no doubt that Susan’s children changed her life…for the first time there were rivals for her affection besides her dogs and those girls were the love of her life. She was a hero to her family and to everyone who met her and when she began her battle against cancer a few years ago, we all knew that the disease would never have a more worthy adversary.

On Saturday, Susan succumbed to the advances of an army of bad cells in her body that was simply too much for even her to handle but she fought with every ounce of strength she had and was a role model of determination and positive thinking every step of the way. Susan was one of those people who are truly bigger than life and when you find compassion, understanding and love there too, it’s almost hard to believe. But with Susan Butcher you got all that and more, because in a man’s world, she was every bit her own person and would stand down to no one.

She leaves a space in our hearts that cannot be filled. In the world of adventure, the term hero is often thrown around casually today but that is not the same as being one of a kind. I’m glad this business of public relations has a way of seeking out the people who are real…the people who are more than talk…more than “been there, done that”. And when you find that person who is truly one of a kind, the power of their being impacts us in an extraordinary way. Susan Butcher was one of a kind. She can never be replaced. She will live forever in those of us who knew her but, today, we send our love to her family and suffer terribly the void left from the passing of our friend. Good bye, Susan…keep on racing.

Posted by Dan McConnell on February 14, 2008 10:32 AM Permalink