To Dick Clark and The People Who Make It Look Easy

We humans often devalue talent.

There is the story of the Parisian woman who was on her way to a fancy ball when she realized that she needed a hat. Panicking, she rushed into the shop of a local and famous hat-maker who was in the process of closing his shop for the night. "Quick, I need a hat immediately."

The hat-maker had no materials but for a single ribbon. He took it and gracefully wrapped it around her head until it adorned her beautifully.

"This is perfect," she gushed. "What do I owe you."

Sizing up the situation, he answered, "Ten francs."

The matron was outraged. "Ten francs!," she exclaimed. "For a ribbon?"

With that, the hat-maker lifted the ribbon off her head and handed it to her, unfurled. "Madame, the ribbon is for free," he told her.

With the passing of Dick Clark, I thought of all the different things he seemed to do so easily, emphasis on the "seemed." He hosted American Bandstand, seemingly just a music program, yet he successfully and fundamentally changed popular music in the U.S., spreading it coast-to-coast from a little studio in West Philadelphia. 

When the Grammys had a stranglehold on music awards, even though they represented blandness rather than popular or critical tastes (the awards were founded as a way to promote "good" music rather than the evil rock 'n' roll), he created the American Music Awards as an antidote, and his creation took hold and gained its own legitimacy. 

Yes, that brightly lighted ball came down in Times Square every New Year's Eve, but it took Dick Clark to make it an event that we all watched, while others could only imitate him. 

And never did he seem so effortless as when he hosted a game show titled The $10,000 Pyramid (upgraded since as a result of inflation). Many years ago, I was at a taping of the show, trying first to get on as a contestant and subsequently watching as part of the live audience. Mr. Clark glided from one role to another, making the players and the audience feel equally at ease. There was a bit of drama when a contestant insisted that he had answered a question correctly. If it were true, then he won the $10,000.

Mr. Clark cut to a commercial, rallied the technical staff and looked appropriately concerned when he announced that they would play back the audio to see if the young man had indeed provided the right answer. It turned out that he had, sotto voce, and it was captured on the audio track. Everything was under control and justice was eventually achieved, all under the smooth guidance of one Dick Clark.

Yes, we have the hat-makers in our lives, the alchemists who turn lead into gold, people who accomplish great and effective things, yet somehow make it look easy because we do not appreciate the skills they bring to bear. We underestimated Cary Grant for years, didn't we? Wasn't he charged for years with "always playing Cary Grant?" And yet when he received an honorary Academy Award, and the TV audience saw the wide range of parts he play, from the grieving father losing an adopted child in Penny Serenade to the burlesque of Arsenic and Old Lace, we were ashamed at how we had not recognized all that he could do. Others not appreciated in their lifetimes? Galileo Harry Truman. Billie Holiday. Dwight D. Eisenhower, as President. Preston Sturges.  Vincent van Gogh. Being ahead of your time is a bitch.

Legendary coach John Wooden said that "Winning takes talent; to repeat takes character." Let's not forget those among us who capitalize on their talents to do great things and then have the fortitude to be more than flashes in the pan. And with that, let's lift the glass one last time to Dick Clark, for his grace and his accomplishments. We are not likely to see his kind again any time soon.

Pulitzers Honor More than Print with their Highest Award

Yesterday, the Pulitzer Prize for Public Service -- the highest award among journalism's highest awards -- went to the Philadelphia Inquirer for "Assault on Learning," a series on violence in the city's schools. In all the excitement, it is easy to overlook that the Prize honored more than print.
The prize for public service goes to an entire paper rather than an individual. The Pulitzer committee said the Inquirer's series used "powerful print narratives and videos to illuminate crimes committed by children against children and to stir reforms to improve safety for teachers and students." The Inquirer created a database to document tens of thousands of serious incidents, ranging from robberies to sexual assaults. It was a year-long project by a team of reporters, editors, photographers, designers and multimedia specialists.
Other new media journalists were honored by the Pulitzers, notably The Huffington Post. The Emmys have been honoring interactive television for a few years now.  All of these examples remind us of the many tools at our disposal to get our messages out. Press releases are not moribund, but neither are they the only weapons in our arsenals. They are just one part of a strategic campaign, combined with blogging, Twitter and more.
The Philadelphia Inquirer, a member of the supposedly staid Fourth Estate, recognized this. Yesterday, it paid off big for them. Also for many students in Philadelphia.

You can view the entire series Assault on Learning by clicking here.

Ranking the Oscar Nominees

This year, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences nominated nine films as their best of the year. We’ll learn the winners soon, when they are announced on Sunday, February 26. But this year, my enthusiasm is a bit dampened. Of the nominees, I am enthused by four at the most, and I really love only my top two. And the public apparently agrees, given the downturn in the 2011 box office receipts.

Furthermore, many better films were overlooked by the Academy. Where is 50/50, an emotional, nuanced and finely acted film about dealing with cancer? Beginners told a unique story about the grief and freedom that can spring from the death of a loved one. And the Academy could have done worse than nominate Bridesmaids as best film; in fact, they did do worse by honoring several mawkish films rather than recognizing well-earned laughs. (At least Bridesmaids got a screenplay nomination, though this looks like a consolation prize when you consider the seeming inevitability of Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris.)

Here is my take on the nine nominated films, ranking them in ascending order. While I loved my top two, I hope Oscar does a tad better next year. First, let’s look at the first three films that make up the bottom third of the list.

9. War Horse — Early in this tearjerker about a lovable horse sent into battle, there is a scene filmed with much drama, vivid camera angles and triumphant John Williams music. What has the protagonist done? Why, he plowed a field! Such is the overwrought emotion contained in this film by Steven Spielberg. (Really, would this film have been nominated if it were attached to a different director?) Yes, I got teary at the end, but I felt I had been emotionally bludgeoned in the process.  Someone told me that she believed Spielberg didn’t trust his audience, so he had overplayed his hand. Point taken.


8. The Tree of Life — “You either love this film or hate it,” a respected friend and fellow cineaste told me. Well, count me among the haters. Yes, the elusive and reclusive Terrence Malick’s film has beautiful sweeping images set to music, but so does a screen saver. And both of these lack an element crucial to good filmmaking: a narrative. Why was Sean Penn, apparently a son of the abusive Brad Pitt character, moping around the film? Why did Jessica Chastain’s character of the mother appear not so much as a person but as some idealized vision of maternity? I give Malick some props for at least trying to tell his tale in a unique cinematic voice, but in the end neither I nor the audience with whom I saw it understood him.


7. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close — This film completes our trifecta of works that seem to seem to shout, “This is an emotional film! Pay attention to the cues I’m giving you!” Lead character Oskar Schell has suffered an unimaginable tragedy, losing his father, played by Tom Hanks in flashback, in the 9/11 attack. But instead of heartbreak, we get little Oskar traveling at breakneck pace from one New York City locale to another, trying to decipher a posthumous message from his father. He encounters characters that are unlikely (read: unbelievable and illogical), such as the mute known only as The Renter, and an estranged couple, played with more conviction by Jeffrey Wright and Viola Davis than this film deserved. The fatal flaw here is the unrelenting quirkiness, which distracted me from the message. I found this movie extremely idiosyncratic & incredibly pretentious.


6. The Help —The Help centers on a group of African American women in the mid-20th century South who took one of the few jobs accessible to them — that of domestic help — and fulfilled it with conviction. One day, their lives, and those of their employers, are turned over and around by a book that uncovers their hidden feelings. Of all the vivid characters, perhaps the two who best anchor the film are the mischievous but strong Minny (Octavia Spencer) and Aibileen (Viola Davis), who is more reserved, but wears her pride, dignity and fatigue visibly on her passive face. Though The Help doesn’t break any cinematic ground, it is the most superbly acted film of the season.


5. The Descendants — As he did in 2004 with Sideways, Alexander Payne strikes gold once again with this offbeat movie that offers well-defined characters in an unusual setting (Hawaii? Really?). Two years ago, I called George Clooney “this generation’s answer to Cary Grant” after his performance in Up in the Air, and damn if the guy just doesn’t keep delivering. He is ably assisted by a wonderful supporting cast (Beau Bridges, Judy Greer, Matthew Lillard and Robert Forster), most notably Shailene Woodley, who plays Clooney’s deceptively wise young daughter who alerts her father to her mother’s betrayal of him, while she lies in a coma. While The Descendants doesn’t give us any cinematic fireworks, I expect its perceptive and witty script to pick up Best Adapted Screenplay.


4. Midnight in Paris —Woody Allen has his best box office in 45 years, and I suggest that he did so partly by borrowing from Spanish filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar. Midnight in Paris is about Gil, a struggling writer (played by Owen Wilson as an Allen stand-in), who discovers that when the clock strikes 12 on a Parisian side street, he is whisked back to the 1920s, the so-called “Jazz Age.” Not only does he escape his shrewish fiancé and her overbearing parents, he finds inspiration in the likes of Ernest Hemingway, Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Picasso and others.  Like Almodóvar, Allen incorporates magic realism to achieve this bit of cinematic sleight-of-hand. Allen the director works thriftily, bringing the movie in at a tidy 90 minutes. Midnight in Paris shows that the Woodman still has a good film in him and he should receive a Best Original Screenplay Oscar for it.


3. Moneyball — Boy, did I not expect to like this movie. It seemed destined to be talky, describing the arcane mathematical principles that manager Billy Beane used to build a winning baseball team in Oakland, California. But Oscar winners Aaron Sorkin and Steve Zaillian whittled the source material (a book by Michael Lewis) down to its essential elements. Then director Bennett Miller added much needed of economy, moving the film along at an entertaining pace, which made even a mundane winning streak exciting to watch. In the end, Moneyball is anchored by an intelligent and deceptively easy-going performance by Brad Pitt as Beane. By giving us less, we got more, especially compared to the bloat that is evident in the films that rank at the bottom of this list of nominees.

It was tough to pick my favorite film from these last two. As it turned out, it came down to movies that appeal to my love for movies themselves. But here goes…

2. The Artist — This movie begins with us as part of a theater audience. The films in The Artist appeal to our wonder by stripping away basic technical developments—color, visual effects and sound.  Director and writer Michel Hazanavicius helps us remember how, in a dark room and using persistence of vision, we get magic. Hazanavicius’s work, I truly believe that the film ultimately succeeds atop the broad, athletic shoulders of Jean Dujardin. He portrays the mature titular star, George Valentin, with a smile and a charm that belies his age. (Valentine resembles the crusty Warner Baxter of 42nd Street, but out of character, actor Dujardin is much younger.) It appears that the film and the director will walk away winners, but if there is any justice, Dujardin will also be crowned Best Actor.


1. Hugo — The Artist stripped movies down to their original silence, and that single conceit helped make it an excellent and memorable film.  But in the end, Hugo works better for me because master Martin Scorsese used so many more elements into it. First, the director used 3-D for the first time, and it was a storytelling tool for him, not just a cheesy gimmick. He also incorporated superior production design and animatronics. Second, Hugo is Scorsese’s first film for children, and who would have guessed that after Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and other such violent works. Finally, look at the message of this film: Scorsese states forcefully that films are magical, very largely because of the work of pioneers like Georges Méliès, who saw the possibilities in this novelty item. He also makes his case for film preservation, warning us in an entertaining way that this vanishing legacy needs to be preserved. For this expression of a personal vision by a master craftsman who is still at the top of his game after many years, I found Hugo to be the best of this year’s Oscar nominees.

I welcome your comments. In the meantime, this is our annual reminder to enjoy the movies, which remains one of our most accessible art forms. Enjoy the ceremony on Sunday night.

On Creating Our Legacies

Watching "Sunday Morning" on CBS this morning was a haunting experience, as two stories unintentionally, coincidentally and accidentally juxtaposed  to make me think about our mortality and our legacies. 

The first piece was predictable. Today we mourn the death of Whitney Houston and ponder her life, both over its entirety and in the most recent years. I made sure to catch the show early. I guessed from the news the night before that the show would be devoting time to her, and there it all was: The MTV-era clips that would conveniently serve to chronicle her rapid rise in the 1980s. The snippets of her soaring vocals that seem extra-human at times. (My God, could a person really sing that beautifully AND so powerfully?) The accounts of her troubled times, including her marriage to the sure-to-be-vilified Bobby Brown, and her descent into drugs and alcohol. The diminishing of her prodigious talents, marked most recently by her inability to scale the record charts again and a humiliating concert in which she could not remember her lyrics or hit the notes that were once so effortless. It was all there, all so sad.
But the second segment threw me for a loop because, rather than a tragic and definite end, it was a hardship in progress that we will be able to witness sadly. The popular country-pop singer Glen Campbell is on his last tour. These are not his final performances because he is retiring willingly, but because he is receding from the world around him. At age 75, Mr. Campbell has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. While Mr. Campbell, like Ms. Houston, also lived a wild and woolly and sometimes reckless life, it is this wretched disease that is bringing him down.
Fortunately, as the segment showed, Mr. Campbell is not on the last legs of his journey alone. Several of his children are there, performing with him, gently guiding him to the stage, but most importantly, helping the man maintain his dignity in front of the audiences that have come to say goodbye. The results are mixed. He launches into his familiar and highly expert guitar riffs, as though his fingers are acting independently of his psyche. Teleprompters help him remember his once-familiar lyrics. But then he will launch enthusiastically into a song that he has just finished, and he stands revealed, solitary in his own perceptions and ultimately depending on the kindness of friends, fans and family to exit the embarrassment gracefully. 
Ms. Houston's fate seemed predetermined by a life on overdrive. Even her singing was white hot, seldom nuanced. Deep down, you could somehow sense that it would be impossible to maintain both the intensity of her performances and, later, of her life choices. On "Sunday Morning," commentator and music critic Bill Flanagan asked compassionately that "Whitney Houston be allowed to rest in peace." As an admirer, he is naturally afraid of the onslaught of salacious news that is sure to arise from a variety of sources, such as her autopsy, eyewitness reports of her increasingly erratic behavior, and more. Of course, Ms. Houston's reputation will not be spared, and given our 'breaking news" culture and social media overload, it is naive to think otherwise.
Still, as I look at Glen Campbell in his final days, I am reminded that we can have much more control over our legacies than we often allow. It is wise to remember that every act, every word uttered, every kindness offered all stand as testimonies to who we are. Tweets, Facebook posts and, yes, even blogs like this one are ephemeral. Resumes may be impressive, but they are only paper; people are much more likely to remember us for things that are more substantive, whether it is as monumental as a building or a bridge, or as accessible as a pathway or a garden. We have opportunities to change the lives around us and leave people with a material contribution, a piece of advice and maybe even a song. 
David Bowie once pointed out that he was lucky to have been afforded so many years in his career to make an impact, while the great blues artist Robert Johnson lived only to age 27, his reputation resting largely on one recording. I think that is great advice, which resonates so much more clearly to me as I get older: We get only so much time and only so many opportunities, so let's choose our actions wisely.

Note: I am indeed a big admirer of Whitney Houston, so I would like to direct you to this tribute to her that has already popped up on YouTube. God bless her.

The Day a Prophet Passed

December 31, 2011 marks 30 years since media guru Marshall McLuhan died, a victim of a final stroke after suffering from a series of them. How kind the intervening years have been to him. At the time of his death, he was viewed in his native Canada as somewhat of an embarrassment, but today he is an oracle, having essentially foreseen Facebook Amazon, Twitter, the iPhone and other modern media. In the words of a New York Times article published this past summer to mark McLuhan's centenary, "Instead of being viewed as an academic fraud, McLuhan is now widely celebrated as the man who prophesied both the Internet and its impact on society." Indeed, Professor B. W. Powe of Toronto's York University, and one of the organizers of a weeklong series of memorial events in that city, said this: “We read the 21st-century media through his eyes.”

Quite a turnaround for one man, though not unusual. As with most social visionaries, McLuhan challenged tightly held beliefs, and most people are afraid to let go of such ideas. His vocabulary was also new and alien. He introduced us to his definitions of "hot" and "cold" media: Hot media, such as print and the cinema, are sharp in definition, filled with data, exclusively visual and verbal. He also asserted that these media were psychologically damaging and low in audience participation. Other hot media, according to McLuhan, were photography, competitive spectator sports and radio. Moreover, he said that hot media make people think logically and independently rather than naturally and communally. McLuhan preferred "cool" media, noting that while they are low in information, they also challenge their users by forcing them to fill in the "missing" information. He saw the telephone, modern painting and, most significantly, television as cool media because they are oral-auditory, tactile and visceral. McLuhan believed that these media would be a unifying force, putting modern "back into the tribal or oral pattern with its seamless web of kinship and interdependence." These behaviors would, in turn, create his "global village," a term that he coined

As with many prophets, McLuhan's revolutionary ideas were not regarded kindly in his own time. A Time magazine review of his book Understanding Media  -- regarded today as the seminal work on the effect of media in the modern world and which contained many of the concepts described above -- called the book "pseudo science." Yet years later, when Time published their obituary of McLuhan, the magazine stated that "his writing was clumsy, his thoughts badly organized, and even he complained that he had trouble understanding his ideas. But...when he died last week in Toronto at the age of 69, Marshall McLuhan was recognized as one of the most influential thinkers of the '60s. Some of his insights into the nature of television and the electronic age became conventional wisdom." 

One of McLuhan's prime principles was that “we shape our tools, and thereafter our tools shape us.” Can we doubt that statement today, given how we interact through Web 2.0? We make "friends" through Facebook, we reveal our innermost thoughts through our blogs, we make spectacles of ourselves through YouTube, and we have learned to communicate succinctly in just 140 characters through our Twitter accounts.

Once again, we are currently reminded of the power of the media in our politics. And I do not mean our primary Presidential politics. No, the "global village" that McLuhan foresaw also has global politics. Time scoffed yet again when McLuhan stated in Understanding Media that "Had TV occurred on a large scale during Hitler's reign, he would have vanished quickly." No, the Old Professor was on target, as we have seen Twitter and Facebook cut through censorship and propaganda to produce an Arab Spring or rally for the rights of the disenfranchised. And here in this country, presidential front runners fall back almost immediately as they wilt under the glare of the media spotlight. That durability under scrutiny seems to determine winners more than any other obstacle. Some partisans may complain that Barrack Obama did not face any real scrutiny during his primary campaign, but come on; I was viewing fresh footage of his pastor, the incendiary Rev. Jeremiah Wright, every morning, whether through the network news or the Internet. And will Mitt Romney, seemingly made of asbestos and impervious to the heat of battle, win his party's nomination because no medium will be able to lay a finger on him long enough to count him out as they have so many others? We'll see.

When McLuhan made his pronouncements more than 40 years ago, some listened while many others dismissed them as nonsense. He stated that media are "not neutral; instead they have an effect on people." Today, as we study the effects of television on what we buy, who we elect and how we learn, and as we study how video games and the Internet are affecting the linearity of our thinking, his theories are easily echoed. Yet because they are so commonsense and commonplace, we forget their origins. However, we learned similar lessons from Einstein, whose ideas were so advanced that they were also ineffable because no suitable language existed to express them. (How does one explain E=MC squared?)


The global village did not exist when Marshall McLuhan coined the phrase. But somehow he emerged from his intellectual rabbit hole to glimpse it, and then he wrote many books and essays to prepare us for it. Let's stay aware of the power we possess through our media, which have indeed become our extensions and have united us (and conformed us) in ways that only he seemed to imagine.

Three Signs That Your Organization May Be Too Insular (Lessons from Penn State)

While much of the nation is horrified by the recent scandals at Penn State University, they are not surprising in certain ways. Many of the characteristics that the university exhibited in the years leading up to these disclosures are not unique. We have seen them in other embarrassed  institutions, such as the Catholic Church, the military in the U.S. and around the world, many large urban police departments, and others. Do you recognize yourself, your company or your organization in the following practices? If not, you may be so far out of touch with reality that you are setting yourself up for a fall from grace similar to Penn State’s.

MISTAKING YOUR EXCELLENCE IN ONE SUBJECT AREA AS OMNIPOTENCE. Robert A. Mundell, who won the 1999 Nobel Prize in Economics, appeared on Late Night with David Letterman one night to read “Top Ten Ways My Life Has Changed Since Winning The Nobel Prize.” The first change (number 10) he cited was that he “can end almost any argument by asking, ‘And did you ever win a Nobel Prize?’” It’s funny, but also true. Once you are applauded as a subject expert, it is easy to think all your opinions and actions are beyond reproach. But
really, does being rich automatically make you an expert in all things economic? (Similar to Mundell, I have heard titans of industry give this retort to challenging questions:
“If you’re so smart, why aren’t you rich?”) Similarly, Penn State’s success on the gridiron may have led the school’s officials to believe that either they were not accountable for their actions or that they could do no wrong.

A company that is highly successful making widgets may still have a poor accounting system, leaving their very existence in jeopardy. Similarly, making that one widget well does not mean that the manufacturer is guaranteed success in other areas. Witness the companies that ventured outside their core competencies and failed notably. There is a reason
that the King James Bible states that “Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” Just because you’re good, stay humble and put a check on yourself.

YOU ARE ORGANIZED TO SHIELD YOUR LEADERS FROM UNPLEASANT TRUTHS. Evidence of this shortcoming can be found in the way that Penn State’s top officials did not know of the true nature of the violations against children on the campus. (By the time that word-of-mouth about an assault in the locker room meandered to the president’s office through “Whisper Down the Lane,” it had devolved from a “rape” to “horseplay.”) Do your top leaders understand how, for example, poor expense reporting may affect the bottom line? If not, it
might be good to open up at least a bit.

YOU HAVE NO OUTSIDE INFLUENCES OR OVERSIGHT. It appears that Penn State officials, including school president Graham Spanier, did not venture outside the university when they
uncovered wrongdoing. Rather than go to the police, they tried investigated the perpetrator themselves. And as we have been saying since Watergate, the cover-up was worse than
the crime. How do you govern? Do you or your organization ever ask for outside opinions, or have you become your own frame of reference? Going further, is your company hiring
from outside its inner circle? There are reasons we have Affirmative Action in this country, and one is to promote diversity of thought rather than  monolithic mindsets.

Mark Wilson and Mark Doorley of Villanova University’s ethics program write in an editorial, “As we try to understand what happened and what failed to happen at Penn State, we must ask broader questions about all our institutions. Do they cultivate a capacity to act on behalf of others, no matter what their role or status? Or do they reward inaction and loyalty to procedure, and so unwittingly lay the groundwork for complacency and complicity with evil?” Indeed, such introspective questions will help keep us and our organizations honest, in more ways than one.

Too Much Information for Hurricane Irene? I Don't Think So

Many Monday Morning Quarterbacks have weighed in and decided that the media gave too much attention to Hurricane Irene, even accusing them of hyping it.

Nonsense. That could not be more incorrect.

In this case, the news media did what all professional communicators are supposed to do: Give their stakeholders the information they needed to cope with a given situation. Certainly, much of the nation was gun-shy after Hurricane Katrina, when many people ignored the warnings and suffered for it. 

Some people complained that the media hyped the flu pandemic of 2010. The feedback afterward was that it was "no big deal." But it was no big deal precisely because of the information that year. People washed their hands, got their shots, made sure their kids got their shots, and followed all the recommended procedures. Good job!

Now take a look at your own communication responsibilities. Do employees in your organizations get sufficient information when it is time to sign up for annual benefits? Is your community fully aware of new traffic patterns when road work is going on? Are your shareholders fully aware of how pending legislation or regulatory decisions, such as from the FDA, will affect your products, and therefore your stock price? Short of panicking an audience, I am not a believer in "too much communication." And I can assure you that many people who were safe after Hurricane Irene hit them believe they got the information they needed.

Giving our best, in the words of Joe DiMaggio

All I ever learned about maintaining a reputation for being the best came from the mouth of Yankee great Joe DiMaggio. When asked why he always hustled so hard, he responded, "There is always some kid who may be seeing me for the first or last time. I owe him my best."
Now compare this attitude to those of business owners, who risk their own reputations, as well as those of their companies and employees, to unethical practices. Or entertainers who don't perform at their best and create an everlasting impression -- fairly or not -- on the ticket-buyer who showed up for that day's performance. Our brands, our names and our reputations are sometimes all we have. Do you tend your image every day as you should? Will the people who encounter you today remember a superlative effort or a lackluster try?
I know this may seem harsh, and believe me, I have both benefited and suffered from this, but it is a reality to which we must all attend.

It is Mid-Year; Do You Know Where Your Goals Are?

The year is now half over. It is a good time for us to review our goals and objectives for the year and mark our progress.
What, you don't have goals and objectives for the year? If not, how will you know if you have advanced in 2011 and made personal progress? I keep two "To Do" lists posted: one for every day, and one for the year. My daily "TO DO" list is an ongoing challenge, but as I step back, I'm doing well for the whole year. I have already read as many books as I planned, I created a new keynote address for my repertoire, my retirement plan is finally on track, and I have reviewed the Italian language for an upcoming trip. (Forgive me if I don't share the other items on my list. I take the advice of self-help guru Derek Sivers that you should not share your goals with others, because that automatically decreases the chances that you will achieve them.)
Over the years, my annual list of goals have enabled me to accomplish a number of interesting things, such as hitting certain income goals, learning a new language, paying off my mortgage and publishing my first book.
If you haven't yet put together your own list, don't fret. Better to finish the year with a smaller list than one at all. The more important thing to remember is to work at actually reaching your goals by prioritizing them, putting them on schedule, focusing on them and eliminating the time wasters that get in your way. One could find no better role model than a mother on public assistance who became one of the richest women in the U.K. J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, told the Harvard graduating class that "achievable goals are the first step to self improvement."

When Planning Your Career, Rage Against the Machines

I came across an interesting opinion piece in today's Philadelphia Inquirer. The author wrote about how machines are doing much of the work that people used to do. We saw that in the last century, as robots could assemble cars more cheaply and efficiently than people do. It does make sense, as a machine can the work that eliminating jobs. (UAW members saw that, too, as rank-and-file members like my Dad fought against the encroachment of machines that would do the work of humans.)
I have discussed this very point in my book, The Six P's of Change, and I often mention it in my speeches: Those who are tied to a specific technology or type of work are often doomed to obsolescence. However, my own take is less fatalistic than that of the author of this article. I contend that such changes also bring opportunity. For example, while the auto industry once provided one in every seven jobs in the U.S., that ratio now belongs to the computer industry. (The automobile industry now accounts for one in every 16 jobs, still a significant number.) So, as the saying goes, fish where the fish are, and work in those areas that are not only in demand but which cannot be taken over by machines.
For example, how about a return to the trades, such as plumbing, carpentry and the like? I have not yet seen a machine that can cut pipe to length or crawl under a sink. There are also creative endeavors that no machine can do, such as writing, art, design and consulting. And if you can't beat 'em, join 'em: Since the auto industry produces more computers for their cars than IBM does, young people would be well served to learn the high technology of the car industry. t look That enmity was not limited to heavy industry.
Elbert Hubbard once note that "One machine can do the work of fifty ordinary men. No machine can do the work of one extraordinary man." When we seek to be extraordinary, we can beat this trend and even make it work in our favor.


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Short-Term Thinking Leads to Long-Term Losses

I know two businesses that have made decisions based on today, and I predict their actions will come back to haunt them tomorrow.

Both have decided to stop their marketing communications for distinctly different reasons. One suffered a big loss recently when it lost a competitive bid that would put the company in a strong competitive position for years to come. The other company curtailed their marketing when a few projects came in unexpectedly as a result of referrals. Company #1 canceled their marketing because they perceive they do not need it. Company #2 says they cannot afford it. Both of them are likely to pay for these decisions later.

What happens to #1 when there are no fortuitous references in the future? There must be work in your pipeline. Similarly, #2 will also not build customers over the long haul with this type of thinking.

(Businesses are not the only entities guilty of this type of thinking. Certainly, many of our current government concerns have arisen because of the lack of forethought given to expenditures versus outlays. Many Americans do not have proper retirements planned because they did not plan in advance. Even much of our personal health problems can arise from seeing only the immediate.)

Jonathan Swift once said that vision is the art of seeing the invisible. Marketing and similar planning looks for those invisible tomorrows before they become the dire todays.

Short, Sweet and Wright Writing

"I remember when the candle shop burned down. Everyone stood around singing 'Happy Birthday.'"

-- Steven Wright

Did you ever consider how much work it takes to write a joke like that?

I was reading a book by Marlo Thomas that my wife gave me for Christmas titled Growing Up Laughing: My Story and the Story of Funny. It is a memoir based on her life as the daughter of legendary comedian and TV star, Danny Thomas. It is mostly about what defines the elusive quality of "funny." It's one of those tomes that's good to read in bed just before the lights go out, as it is not very demanding, and it puts you in a good mood to sleep. Many chapters are Ms. Thomas's interviews with a wide variety of comics and actors, ranging from Tina Fey to Ben & Jerry Stiller to Don Rickles. However, the chapter on comic Steven Wright stopped me in my tracks. While the old veteran Henny Youngman was known as "The King of the One-Liners," Wright deserves that title much more. Youngman more often than not had a long build-up to a powerful punchline. Wright tells his jokes in three sentences at most.

"I had a friend who was a clown.
When he died, all his friends
went to the funeral in one car."

Reading about Wright reminded me how much hard work there is in concise writing. There is an apocryphal story that George Bernard Shaw once told a friend that he wrote him a five-page letter because he didn't have time to write him a one-page letter. Wright says in Thomas's interview that "something in my mind starts to edit down the joke so I can get the point across with the fewest amount of words....I don't like big, long set-ups."
And really, how much do any of us like hearing those same set-ups? Wouldn't you rather have someone get right to the point? So it is with our own writing, especially in speeches.
I relearned that lesson last year when I was in a Toastmaster speech competition. There was one contestant who was quite impressive in her manner, her confidence and her diction. Her speech was very literate, and she delivered it beautifully, with the skill of an actress. However, she didn't even place in the competition, while I came in second with a memoir about the time I had to speak to my son about sex.
After the competition on how well she did in her first contest. (She was in her first year of Toastmasters.) "But I have some advice for you that may help you in the future, " I said. She stopped me before I could continue.
"I think I know what you are going to say," she said to me. "I was struck by the simplicity of your language." And there it was. The audience couldn't quite wrap their heads around her message, while mine was easier to discern.

"I intend to live forever. So far, so good."

One way to learn concision is to seek out and read succinct writing. Hemingway is the master. He once boasted that he could write a novel in just six words:

For Sale:
Baby Shoes.
Never Used.

For a better example, read A Clean, Well-Lighted Place, which one college professor described to me as "the perfect short story. A better example still is Robert Frost's The Death of the Hired Man. In a long poem -- not even a short story -- he lays out the final years of a day laborer in stunningly vivid detail.

"How do you tell when you're out of invisible ink?"

Think about applying such discipline to your own writing. When you are reviewing a piece, try taking out just unnecessary word. Then try a second. Use your Twitter, too. It is amazing what you can get across in just 140 characters. But don't be fooled; just because it's shorter doesn't mean that it's easier.

"I'm writing a book. I've got the page numbers done."

Ranking the 2011 Oscar Contenders -- My Own Choices for "Best Film"

Wow, what a variety of films in the following list of Best Picture nominees. Consider the different story lines: A film that takes place largely in a dream. A classic western. A young man and woman conflicted about their biological heritage. A woman of privilege faces adversity. A beloved yet shy figure faces a personal struggle. Characters face the consequences of being separated from home. A snapshot of the issues of the time. Simple country folks fight the economic odds against them. A struggle to regain riches that were taken.

Yes, this year's nominees share many of the qualities of the 1939 nominees described above. Those movies were, respectively, The Wizard of Oz; Stagecoach; Wuthering Heights; Dark Victory; Goodbye, Mr. Chips; Love Affair; Ninotchka; Mr. Smith Goes to Washington; Of Mice and Men; and Gone with the Wind.

Is this year’s crop of contenders for the top prize also classics? Only time will tell. However, while I felt that last year's list was a bit padded, I believe the 2010 nominees are of sufficient quality that the Academy needs not be embarrassed that they doubled the number of competitors for the awards that will be given this Sunday, February 27.

Here is how I rank the ten nominated films, in descending order. These are not my predictions, but my judgment as to their quality, innovation and uniquely cinematic quality. In other words, when I evaluate a film according to these three standards, I expect to see a work that contains a high level of competence in its craft, a film that is unlike others I have seen, and a work that I could not experience in another medium. As Roger Ebert has demanded, I think the best film of the year should make me look at film differently.

10. True Grit — Joel and Ethan Coen made a few improvements in this remake. The setting and lighting of their Old West looks more realistic. The stilted and more proper language of Charles Portis's eponymous novel (the source of the material) lends a new authenticity. The Coens restored Portis's sobering, original ending, and the casting of Matt Damon as Texas Ranger LaBoeuf was a winner (immeasurably better than the execrable Glen Campbell). They also discovered the remarkable Hailee Steinfeld to play Mattie Ross. In a just world, she would win best supporting actress over The Fighter’s Melissa Leo, she of the braying "pahk the cah in Hahvahd Yahd" accent. Though I like this film, it is last on my list simply because it is a remake, one that does not add much cinematically to its predecessor. I look for more in a "best film."

9. The Kids Are All Right — This is an entertaining, insightful portrayal of a family far from the nuclear stereotype we abandoned as “the norm.” Laser and Joni, the son and daughter of Nic and Jules (Annette Bening and Julianne Moore), find Paul (Mark Ruffalo), their biological father, and this discovery creates a series of events that raises many questions about identity. Jules learns a new trade with Paul and then a new way to love (an aberration that is never really explained well, which weakens the story). Meanwhile, the controlling yet fragile Nic sees her whole world crumbling. The performances and the story-telling are all well-drawn, natural and effortless. A nice film with a somewhat unorthodox story that somehow did not excite me. (Alert: If anyone can upset favorite Natalie Portman for Best Actress, it would be Bening. )

8. The Fighter — Dicky Eklund was a promising middleweight before his undisciplined ways led him to crack addiction. His half-brother, Micky Ward, wants to win the title Dicky never could. The Fighter’s major characters are all endearing in their own ways. Producer Mark Wahlberg plays Micky with the same earnestness it must have taken to green light this film. Amy Adams brings a previously unseen toughness to Charlene, Micky's barkeep girl. Melissa Leo, as the boys’ slatternly mother, keeps her seemingly endless brood of loser children on a tight leash. Christian Bale is likely to win an Oscar more for the volume of his over-the-top portrayal of Dicky than for its quality. While this film is entertaining and well-intentioned, I felt that I have seen this all before in films, whether boxers, runners or otherwise.

7. The Social Network — The Social Network successfully captures our zeitgeist by telling the story of the creation of Facebook. David Fincher, displaying his versatility as a director, tells this story with more zip than it deserves … which brings me to what really bothers me about this film. Aaron Sorkin's wordy script begins with a scene well-acted by Jesse Eisenberg, as Mark Zuckerberg, and Rooney Mara, as girlfriend Erica Albright. Sitting in a bar, Erica tells Zuckerberg that he is a self-centered jerk who will always be lonely. This scene establishes Zuckerberg's character, and it is totally false, a contrivance. I believe that artistic license is one thing, but character assassination is quite another. It has made me wonder how much more of this film I can believe, and that doubt pushes The Social Network down my list.

6. Winter's Bone —Ree, at 17, bears the burden of the world. She is raising two younger siblings in loco parentis for their mentally ill mother, while her meth-making father is on the lam. We soon learn that he used the family home for collateral on his bail bond, on which he will soon default. As Ree's family stands to lose their only piece of paradise in a hardscrabble world, she decides to look for him. Her search sets off a series of setbacks and resistance that test her will and her resilience. Jennifer Lawrence (as Ree) and John Hawkes (as Teardrop, her father's brother) give star-making performances. Yet the main character in this small gem may be the unforgiving Missouri setting. Director Debra Granik gives Winter's Bone a gun-metal patina that embodies the monochromatic lives of its inhabitants. Like last year’s Precious, it is an unflinching glimpse into the lives of people we rarely see.

5. Black Swan — This was hands down the most daring film I saw this year. It is clear from the start that ballerina Nina Sayers is insane as she drives toward her goal to be cast in the lead of Swan Lake. Director Darren Aronofsky leads us into Nina's psyche, blurring the distinctions between delusions and reality with a cinematic slights of hand -- an errant reflection here, an ambiguous love scene there. Like a shadow boxer, Aronofsky feints, bobs and weaves enigmatically from start to finish. My one considerable reservation about Black Swan is its relentless pace, which becomes exhausting to the point of tedium. (Spielberg, for example, knew to lighten Jaws with occasional humor.) Still, I'll take this film over any safe rom-com or Blind Side that comes along. I’d rather be challenged than patronized.

4. The King's Speech — What a lovely film! Prince Albert of England needs a speech therapist because he is incapacitated by his stammer. Enter the uncertified, yet eminently qualified, Lionel Logue, who begins to succeed where others have failed Albert. The story takes an historic turn when Albert is thrust onto the throne after his ne'er-do-well brother, King Edward, abdicates for the sake of the harlot he loved. Albert wonders aloud how he could lead a nation when he cannot even speak to them. Tom Hooper’s direction is spare and subtle, evident in sly camera angles and tracking shots that symbolize Albert's personal journey. This film excels mainly in its performances: Helena Bonham Carter exuding loving concern as the Queen Mum; Geoffrey Rush as Logue, so devoted to Albert's well-being that he would never capitalize on his patient's royal stature; and Colin Firth as Prince Albert cum King George, in the performance of his career. The King's Speech covers a wide variety of themes (personal validation, integrity, courage, self- actualization), but ultimately I believe it is about the value of loyalty and friendship. I expect that the very accessibility of this film will lead it to the Oscar.

3. 127 Hours — Here is a surefire formula for box office poison: Lead a hiker to a ravine, trap him, and then wait for him to escape by cutting off his arm. Oh, by the way, the audience knows the story already. But under the inestimable Danny Boyle, this film, like its main character, emerges triumphant. Boyle takes us from an adventurer’s world of pools and landscapes to a view of the visceral. While Boyle captures the vast beauty of the expanses of Utah, he also narrows his focus to the small space occupied by Aron Ralston (played gloriously by James Franco). From there, both men go even more deeply into the soul of a troubled man who finds his way out of more than one confinement. The unfilmable becomes gloriously cinematic because of Boyle's guidance and Franco’s contribution. It is a breath-taking cinematic achievement that I am confident will stand the test of time.

2. Toy Story 3 — While I believed this franchise had nowhere to go, the brilliantly creative minds of Pixar resuscitated these characters, which were nearly abandoned by both their onscreen owners and their audience. Woody (Tom Hanks) and his cohort seem to have reached the end of the line as their now grown up owner, Andy, goes off to college. In a Keystone Kops-like turn of events, the toys mistakenly end up in a day care center instead of the attic, as was intended. At first, their new home looks heavenly. They even find a new leader at the day care, the seemingly avuncular bear toy, Lotso, brilliantly voiced by Ned Beatty. But all is not as it seems, and Woody leads the other toys to escape, a new adventure that is, at turns, exciting, frightening, funny, tense, creepy and more. Critic James Agee once wrote in a famous essay that the most remarkable thing about Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was not that it had moving images, but that it had images that moved people. The same could be said about Toy Story 3, as it leads us to its well-earned heart-warming and touching conclusion. I don't care that it is a cartoon.

1. Inception — To paraphrase the old radio show, The Shadow, who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? Inception does. Director/screenwriter Christopher Nolan created a unique concept for his film: A process called "Inception' gives a person the ability to invade another's dreams in order to learn what is contained in that person's deepest thoughts. Furthermore, Inception also allows its users to implant thoughts that will influence the mind of the encroached.
Fantasy is difficult to pull off in film, as evidenced by the sheer number of expendable movies of this type that hit our multiplexes and quickly disappear with nary a trace of impact. It requires a great director to make them work, such as William Friedkin (The Exorcist), Stanley Kubrick (2001: A Space Odyssey and A Clockwork Orange), and Peter Jackson (The Lord of the Rings trilogy). In Inception, Christopher Nolan has produced a stunning piece of work that once again displays his mastery of film, and that is why I pick it as the best film of the Oscar nominees.
Nolan's visual imagery seems sprung from the mind of M.C. Escher. Staircases tilt into circular, never-ending designs. Cityscapes bend improbably toward the screen, and reflections give way to new realities, all without the slightest hint of artifice. Nolan is also solidly in command of the various crafts that go into film-making, using them not merely to dazzle, but also to inform his story. The sound design matches what we would expect to hear when a street tilts perpendicularly, with all the asphalt and infrastructure giving way to this freak of nature. The art direction created environs that confuse us, because they seem so real yet bear a touch of the incredible. There is particular attention to the cinematography as we enter a variety of dreams, each distinguishable from the others because of their unique color palette, whether it is the stark white of a hidden snow resort of the beige of concrete. (As my daughter pointed out to me, Nolan deserves an Oscar for the hallway fight scene alone.) The fabulous editing makes all of these elements blend together (or perhaps more accurately, helps them coexist distinctly so that the viewer is not confused). Not the least of Nolan’s talents is his ability to draw outstanding performances from his cast (Leonard DiCaprio, Marion Cotillard, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Ellen Page, Ken Watanabe, Cillian Murphy and the much-missed Pete Postlethwaite). As the actors bounce from scene to scene, they all seem to stay in the same film because Nolan can coordinate their performances — an overlooked skill in a medium that nowadays often depends too heavily on the technical. Inception also stays cohesive with the help of Hans Zimmer's evocative and insistent score, which creates a wall-to-wall bed that unifies the film.
Nolan also serves as the anti-James Cameron, as he has the ability to create a literate and labyrinthine screenplay that intertwines with a love story. (For further evidence of his skills, I highly recommend his masterpiece, Memento.) Inception has a Nashville-like ability to tell several stories at once, and Nolan knows how to write images to accomplish this. He doesn't talk his audience to death as Aaron Sorkin does in The Social Network.
For all the artsy-fartsy references to directors as the "sole creative force" behind a film, Nolan's omission from the Best Director nominees is evidence that many film snobs wouldn't know an auteur if one fell on them. This oversight shows how inadequate the Academy (and other award bodies) can be in evaluating the ability to helm a film. It is no wonder that Inception was the highest-grossing live-action film of the year, as its visual artistry was able to cross both cultural and language barriers not only in America but around the world. Not only do I consider Inception the best of this lot, but I also believe it is a singular achievement in creating a uniquely cinematic film.

This is the way I saw them. I have no illusions that my number one will be the winner come the Oscars telecast. But I also doubt that I will be disappointed by the outcome, as most of the films on the list of nominees would deserve to be called “the best.” While the 2011 nominees are likely not destined to contain the number of classics that 1939 list did, I'll take it. A few more years like this one, and the Academy will look awfully smart for having double their number of contenders.

Getting the Holidays Right

Francis and Julia Rocchi, Christmas, c. 1989

My wife, Marie, and I always tried to de-emphasize the gift-giving aspects of Christmas in favor of the spiritual side and the importance of family. One year, my daughter innocently and inadvertently taught me that we were heading in the right direction.
We lived in upstate New York at the time. A few short days before Christmas, I had to make a run to the mall to pick up some last-minute gifts. There was much to do. We had pageants, Mass and other activities at our church, school and community. We would spend Christmas Day together, just the four of us. Then we would hit the road to be with our families back in Philadelphia. I had very little time that day, but I was able to spare a hour or two to get some final items. I grabbed my daughter Julia, about 7, and we were off.
The mall was amazingly quiet given that it was just before Christmas. Luckily, that allowed me to get what I needed. Julia asked if she could see Santa Claus. Since we had time to spare, it was no problem.
I let her go, and she had Santa all to herself. I observed from a distance, and I could see that she was quite animated, really chatting up the old man, so I could only imagine what kind of booty she wanted for Christmas.
When I went to retrieve her, she went off to see some decorations. I asked Santa privately, out of her earshot, what she asked him for.
"Oh, she didn't ask for anything," he said.
I was taken aback. "She sat with you a long time. What was she talking about?"
"She was telling me all about how you were going to church tonight, how you were going to be together for Christmas and then travel to be with family. Most kids spend their times telling me about what they want. But she was totally focused on family."
Hm. I guess Marie and I got it right that year.
I have been reminded of that story every Christmas since because, I'm sorry to say, our view of the holiday is looking more and more unusual. To say it is about gifts is a cliche. To say that we don't keep Christ in Christmas is even more obvious. But in the end, I don't know if any of us know what this holiday means any more. Perhaps it has come to mean nothing.
When I turn on the television, I see so many images that are unrelated and even random. There are saccharine movies on Showtime or The Hallmark Channel. Cartoon specials about Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman and The Polar Express. They all add up to...

Nothing in particular. In the end, they do not comprise a unifying image of Christmas. The radio is just as bad, with songs about lists of things that kids want, grown-up lists of things we want, a seductress that wants cash from Kris Kringle, and people being blue because someone they love is not with them for the holiday (Merry Christmas Darling, All I Want for Christmas is You, Blue Christmas, etc.). But why do these people want someone with them at this time of year? Either they don't need to say it out loud because we know intuitively, or they don't say it because they don't know themselves. Karen Carpenter sang that logs on the fire filled her with desire. But desire for what? Why bother?

However, during that one Christmas, our daughter (and later our son, Francis) showed us that we were able to cut through the Yuletide clutter. By taking them to church, singing "Happy Birthday" to Jesus, hearing religious music more than the secular, and showing them many more Nativity scenes than pictures of Santa, we have had a modicum of success in fighting a distinctly myopic view of the holiday. I only hope that we can do the same with other holidays. I like to remember that the Fourth of July and Memorial Day are not just long weekends, but were actually created to honor heroes. But I guess I'll take one battle at a time.

The end-of-year holidays can be significant to all of us, as most of us can find their roots in our individual cultures. I hope you find your own special meaning in these days, and I wish you all health and happiness in the new year.

SWIFT JUSTICE -- This Entertainer has Earned her Leading Status Through Careful, Consistent Image Management

Several years ago, a good friend who lives in the Reading, Pa., area had a visitor to his home. He and his son are both musicians, and a young female friend of the son came to their home. "Would you like to listen to my music?," she asked. "I wrote some songs, and I'd like to play them for you."
He listened, and yes, they were pretty good songs. He also liked the young lady, thinking she was sweet and polite.
A few years later, her parents took a huge leap of faith and moved from Pennsylvania to Nashville to support her dream of being a songwriter. It paid off big, for their daughter, for themselves and for all of us.
The title of this post and the accompanying photo tip my hand, I'm sure. Yes, the young lady in question is Taylor Swift, who has just been named by Entertainment Weekly magazine as the Entertainer of the Year.
I cannot imagine anyone more deserving. Think of her accomplishments in the past year alone: A Grammy for Best Album of the Year, and three more in a variety of categories. A new album, Speak Now, which sold more than a million copies in its first week (PLATINUM IN ONE WEEK!) and for which she wrote all the songs. An appearance in a hit movie, Valentine's Day. Hosting Saturday Night Live, and showing herself to be a pretty capable sketch comedian. A successful tour. Surviving and even deftly handling a zeitgeist moment when rapper Kanye West publicly dissed her at the MTV Video Awards, calling Swift unworthy of her trophy when compared to Beyonce.
Most people view the world through their own prism, and mine tends to communication and marketing. What amazes me most about this artist is the consistency of her vision and her subtle self-confidence. This is most evident in her careful stewardship of her own image and messaging, staying calm in every situation.
Would you argue that she owes that to her handlers? I don't. She stood on that stage alone at the MTV Awards when West dishonored her, and she handled the situation with more grace and restraint than we have the right to expect from a 20-year-old. Also, I was impressed by her calm control during her in the course of her interview with EW. Her expressions were articulate, her words as well-chosen as you would hope from a successful songwriter. She diminished the interviewer's suggestion from others that she saved the music business: "I write music about my life and love and relationships, and...(t)hat's where I have to draw the line as far as what I am and what I am not."
The interviewer also asked how she felt about being linked to Kanye West. She replied, "The one choice that I do have, that I continue to make, is to not talk about it."
The interviewer next asked if she had heard his new record. Underlining her point, she simply replied, "I don't want to talk about him."
End of story. Point well made, Ms. Swift.
I don't own one of her albums, although I listen to her and catch her on the tube when I can. (Let's get real; I'm not part of her target demographic.) But I look forward to watching her grow as an artist and a cultural force. I dare say she is off to an astounding start.

We Need Leslie Nielsen, a Hero for These Challenging Times

Okay, so I was in an airport in Boston maybe 30 years ago, waiting for my plane. I had gone for a job interview, and when it was over, I called my wife, Marie, and told her how it went.

When I got off the phone, I was wandering the concourse when I looked over and saw a crowd of people staring at a man who was sitting alone. He was tall, grey-haired and pretty handsome. It was Leslie Nielsen, star of the movie Airplane! and the TV show Police Squad.

People were just looking at him, poking each other and not doing anything in particular. But no one was talking to him. I thought What the Hell, and I walked up to him and stuck out my hand.

"Mr. Nielsen, I know you have no idea who I am, but my name is Pat Rocchi, and I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoy your movies and how much pleasure you have brought into my life."

He was taken aback at this. I don't know if it was the audacity I had to just walk up to him and tell him how much I liked him or if it was the frank admiration of his work. He gathered himself for a moment before he rose and said, "Well, thank you; thank you very much.'
He paused for a moment and, groping for something to say, he told me, "You know we have a new Police Squad movie coming out." He was referring to his then-upcoming film, The Naked Gun.

Being a movie buff and a fan of the TV show, I was aware that it had been in production. "Yes, I was aware that you were working on it. How is it?" (Such a small-talk thing to say, as though he would respond with, "It sucks. Don't go see it.")

His eyes lit up. "It's very funny, very funny. I think you'll enjoy it." In fact, I did. It is still none of my favorite comic movies of all time, just for the sheer silliness of it.

I had to ask him about his foray into comedy at a later part in his career. "Mr. Nielsen, I remember you as the Swamp Fox (an old Disney show about the American rebel, Francis Marion), and you were always so upright and serious. How do you like this new role in comedy?"

With that, he broke into a big, broad, absolutely sincere smile. "I love it," he said, quickly adding with a sly wink, "I like being dumb and stupid for people!"

We exchanged a few more pleasantries and, not wishing to overstay my welcome, I shook his hand and thanked him for his time. But one thing disappointed me. "You know, I just got off the phone with my wife, and she is also a big fan. She will never believe I met you."

He thought for a moment and then said, "Well, let's see if we can convince her." With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of change. I was thinking, "Will he give me a quarter, and I must tell Marie that it came from Leslie Nielsen?" But he poked around the objects from his pocket, and pulled out a lapel pin that was a replica of the badge he wore in his TV show, Police Squad. He handed it to me and said, "Here. Give that to your wife, and she will know that you met me."

I was incredulous, gratified and delighted, all at once. I shook his hand again, laughing, and said, "Well thank you very much, Mr. Nielsen. I will always treasure it."

And I have. Never more than I do today. I wear it occasionally to an event just as a conversation starter, and the story never fails to get a laugh, as well as some appreciation for Mr. Nielsen's graciousness that day. He really has given me a lot of enjoyment over the years through his work, but that little encounter with me, an average fan of no particular import, makes me remember him very specially. I'm glad we had him, and I will miss him. Thank goodness for the permanence of film and video.

By the way, if you can, I suggest you search for the six-episode series of Police Squad on video, either streaming or by purchasing the DVDs. As my personal friend Leslie Neilsen told me, "It's very funny, very funny."

Leslie Nielsen died on Sunday, November 29, 2010, in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., of complications from pneumonia. He was 84 years old.

A Voice for All Seasons

The clippings from 26 years ago -- a long-ago September 27 -- are yellowed, but the memories remain vivid. The headline announced:

"John Facenda dies; eminent anchorman."

There are people, though they age, are of a unique class and so we can't imagine life without them. For lifelong Philadelphians like me, John Facenda was such a man. If you are reading this in Philadelphia, you must remember that John Facenda was the very model of a newsman. Honest. Reliable. Most of all, believable, as in "trustworthy" rather than merely "persuasive," as you might be fooled into thinking a disingenuous person is credible. Put another way, Mr. Facenda was to Philadelphia what Walter Cronkite was to the entire nation. As local writer Clark DeLeon wrote in his tribute to Mr. Facenda 26 years ago, "He brought a dignity to the (broadcasting) industry in its infancy, a dignity we can appreciate better now (at the time of his passing) that we can hardly remember their names six months later."
Has so little really changed in those ensuing 26 years? It seems so. It seems we still have many more Keith Obermanns and Bill O'Reillys and fewer Ed Murrows; more Contessa Brewers and fewer Katherine Grahams.
If you are reading this across the nation, you probably know Mr. Facenda as the first narrator of NFL Films. It is a cliche to say that he was known as "the voice of God." Yet the sobriquet sticks, because no one has come along to supplant him. Indeed, he has proved to be irreplaceable. Legend has it that one night in 1965, Mr. Facenda was watching the slow-motion game sequences on the TV, where happened to be produced by NFL Films, a local firm near Philadelphia. Mr. Facenda was rhapsodizing just how beautiful the visuals were, and he started to improvise narration to go with it.
Ed Sabol, founder of NFL Films, happened to be at the bar. Mr. Facenda recalled that Sabol came up to him and said, "If I give you a script, could you repeat what you just did?"
Mr. Facenda said he would try. And so began his association with NFL Films, which would end 19 years later with his death. (Witness this example in is this clip in which he pays homage to "The Quarterback.")
I was privileged to know John Facenda and work with him. As a communications student at Temple University, I interned at WCAU-TV, Mr. Facenda's station. I worked with him on "Sunday Edition," a local public affairs program. He was unfailingly courtly and always professional. Just hearing him say hello was like listening to a symphony of the voice. He was magnificent. But I must admit that I related to him as a fellow Italian American. In those days, our people did not always have positive role models, especially in the media. Most portrayals of Italians consisted of thick-tongued thugs in gangster movies. But Mr. Facenda represented the best of us who appreciate language, especially the English language that his father drilled into him and his siblings with flash cards around the kitchen table. It was there he learned his elocution that served him so well.
This begged an inevitable question from me. "John," I was once asked him, "you came into the business when everyone's name was homogenized. But you kept your ethnic name. Were you ever asked to change it?"
His eyes flared and his demeanor changed to one I had never seen. "Yes, Pat, they DID want me to change my name." His usually controlled voice began to rise in indignation over a long-ago insult that was suddenly remembered. "They want me to change my name to John Foster. John Foster! Can you imagine that, Pat? And that's when I told them in no uncertain terms to go fuck themselves!"
My jaw dropped. I had never heard John say "damn" or "hell," so the F-bomb was unimaginable. But that was indicative of his pride in his Italian heritage. My own first name is Pasquale, and though I use "Pat" for the ease of pronunciation, I never shrink from acknowledging my real name. So Mr. Facenda's own pride struck a chord that resonates with me today.
In the 26 years since he departed us, I think of him often. I remember him as a nobly professional co-worker who gave magic to whatever feeble words this callow young man gave him to say. I remember him as the authoritative voice who ruled, first, the local airwaves and, later, the cinematic gridiron. But most of all, I remember his avuncular warmth, which came through the image orthicon tubes that sat in countless Philadelphia homes. He ended every broadcast with his signature sign-off: "Have a nice night tonight and a good day tomorrow. Goodnight, all."
Think of him whenever you see local and national anchors missing cues and inserting themselves into the news they are covering. Then think about just how much we have lost over the last 26 years, and probably for ever more.