Writing Boots

On communication, professional and otherwise.

Archives for September 2010

Mayor Daley: We deserved better, and we didn’t know what we had

09.08.2010 by David Murray // 2 Comments

Chicago Tribune columnist Mary Schmich says it all about the psychological role of Mayor Richard M. Daley, and of any leader who's been in power long enough to be taken for granted.

"Good dad. Bad dad. The man we've loved to hate and the one we've depended on more than we like to admit," Schmich writes. Mayor-daley

A lot of grownups say they don't want a dad, and those grownups are happy Daley isn't seeking another term. They've had 21 years to accumulate legitimate beefs, not only about particular failures of the Daley administration, but about its values and culture as well. And now, they don't even have to go off to college to escape the old man. He's the one leaving.

But anyone would have been made uneasy last night, watching the behavior of a panel of four Chicago aldermen from wards of widely varying sizes, racial demographics and economic means. Invited on the public TV news show Chicago Tonight to discuss Mayor Daley's impact on the city, their discussion devolved into a siblings' spat about whose ward doesn't get enough money to fill potholes while whose parks are still weedy while downtown Milennium Park gleams while whose ward has magnanimously foregone the new library they're owed—and on and on like that, until the host had to shout to regain control.

What you have without a strong leader is nothing more than 50 people trying to get theirs.

Do we deserve a better leader than Daley? Yes. While he built skyscrapers and fancy parks, he pushed poor people out of the city to make room. He failed to improve the schools and left gang violence to prosper so that dozens of children and other innocent bystanders are killed in Chicago's ghettos every year. His efforts to keep the money flowing—the word "Revenue" actually appears on the vans that carry around the Denver boot to our cars—were as crass as his methods were draconian. We used to have an airport downtown, until Daley found the thinnest imaginable excuse to bulldoze the runway in the middle of the night. And yes, the culture smells bad; it often feels, around here, like an honest deal can't get done, because straight deals don't generate owed favors.

Elitist, boorish, greedy, shabby and dishonest. But as Schmich points out, which midwestern cities would you point to for better leadership? Detroit? Cleveland?

And there's another aspect of Daley's leadership that we'll miss—and it's the gift of leadership that we inevitably fail to appreciate while we have it. It's the cultural cohesion that a leader creates, through the force of a singular personality over a period of years. Schmich:

And one reason Chicago feels like family—I've lived in cities that don't—is that for 21 years, the same guy has been head of the clan, like his father was before.

In deep, subtle ways, the fact that Chicago has been a family-run operation has provided a sense of connection and security. I don't mean security in all its forms; we all know the unemployment rate and the crime stats. I'm not arguing that patronage is good.

But Chicago feels grounded in a way few cities do, connected to itself in a rare way, in part because it has been run by someone who has the city in his history and his bones and his heart.

Cities, like people, go through phases. This has been a good phase for Chicago. We may not appreciate how good until later.

Once I fought City Hall. Somebody brought a sign to one of the rallies I organized, and a young friend of mine kept it, because it was the universally useful for any protest in Chicago.

It says, simply, "Mayor Daley, Why?"

Someday we may remember nostalgically the time when at least we knew who to ask.

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Becks like us: Why all communicators need journalism experience

09.07.2010 by David Murray // 6 Comments

So Glenn Beck acknowledges that, during his "Restoring Honor" speech at the Washington mall, he lied about having held the George Washington inaugural speech in his own hands.

Why did he tell the white whopper? Because "I thought it was a little clumsy to explain" the elaborate document-viewing process at the National Archives.

Saying (with outreached hands and quavering voice) that he actually held the parchment, Beck said, would "be a little easier than to say, 'Yesterday, I went to the National Archives, and they opened up the vault, and they put on their gloves, and then they put it on a tray, and they wheeled it over, and it's all in this hard plastic, and the because you're sitting down at a table and you can't—because of [Former National Security Advisor] Sandy Berger—you can't actually touch any of the documents because they are very rare'…..I thought it was a little clumsy to explain it that way."

This is why experience in journalism is, was and always will be essential to speechwriting and other communication disciplines.

Instead of saying he held the speech in his hands, Beck could have simply said, "I was almost unbelieving as I beheld the actual manuscript with my own eyes." Alternatively, he could have gone deep, describing the document-viewing process in even more detail than he does above (minus the Sandy Berger swipe)—and the reverence he must have felt as the speech was being brought out. That wouldn't have been clumsy. It would have been powerful.

Journalism contains the art of making the most of the facts—not making the facts themselves. It's not saintly—it can be just as manipulative as an outright lie—but it is a crucial career-saving skill for professional communicators like you, me and Glenn Beck.

Categories // Uncategorized Tags // fact-checking, George Washington inaugural, Glenn Beck, National Archives, Restoring Honor

Happy Hour Video, Labor Day Edition: Work holds us together

09.01.2010 by David Murray // 2 Comments

Labor Day is the most meaningful holiday of the year, because work is the most common human endeavor of all. Not everyone can talk credibly about sex, not everyone cares about sports, and many people don't even think much about food.

But get people talking in detail about their work—often you have to do some persuading that you're really interested—and you've transformed them into a passionate expert, on computer programing, train driving, deal-making, dancing, public relations or hairpiece-sewing.

Here are a few reflections on work, drawn from Shop Class As Soulcraft: An Inquiry Into the Value of Work, by deep-thinking motorcycle mechanic (or mechanically competent philosopher) Matthew B. Crawford.

The dichotomy between blue-collar and white-collar work is stupid.

"First, it assumes that all blue-collar work is as mindless as assembly line work, and second, that white-collar work is still recognizably mental in character," writes Crawford. "… trafficking in abstractions is not the same as thinking. White-collar professions, too, are subject to routinization and degradation …" 

And to illustrate briefly how intellectually involving blue-collar work can be, Crawford shares the recollection of a carriage-wheel maker, writing about the complexities involved in fabricating the wooden rim of a wheel, called a "felloe":

It was the wheelwright who had to make [the felloes look alike]. He it was who hewed out that resemblance from quite dissimilar blocks, for no two felloe-blocks were ever alike. Knots here, shakes there, rindgalls, waney edges (edges with more or less bark on them), thicknesses, thinnesses, were for ever affording new chances or forbidding previous solutions, whereby a fresh problem confronted the workman's ingenuity every few minutes. He had no band-saw … to drive, with ruthless unintelligence, through every resistance. The timber was far from being prey, a helpless victim, to a machine. Rather it would lend its own special virtues to the man who knew how to humor it.

Sounds to me like … writing, which I think of as one of the building trades.

It's good to have a trade.

And the very luckiest people in the world are those who have found a line of work that connects with everything else in their lives.

"… there are vocations that seem to offer a tighter connection between life and livelihood," Crawford writes. "Can such coherence be traced to the nature of the work itself? A doctor deals with bodies, a fireman with fires, a teacher with children. … these things are real enough, and the practices that serve them demand the kind of focused attention around which a life might take shape."

Both my parents were writers, I'm a writer. I deal with words, and much of my writing is for other writers.

"I try to be a good motorcycle mechanic," writes Crawford.

This effort connects me to others, in particular those who exemplify good motorcycling, because it is they who can best judge how well I have realized the functional goods I am aiming at. I wouldn't even know what those goods are if I didn't spend time with people who ride at a much higher level than I, and are therefore more discerning of what is a good motorcycle. So my work situates me in a particular community. The narrow mechanical things I concern myself with are inscribed within a larger circle of meaning; they are in the service of an activity that we recognize as part of a life well lived. This common recognition, which needn't be spoken, is the basis for a friendship that orients by concrete images of excellence.

So it's a happy Labor Day for me, and, I hope, a happy one for you too. If not, though, let's work on it. With our heads and with our hands.

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