Greetings From Notre Dame: A Letter Sent in 1978

My clever, younger, and faraway best friend Kathy Connelly -- who graduated a year behind me at Notre Dame -- forwarded an email from Gray Nocjar, ND Class of 2027 and current managing editor of the university's student newspaper, The Observer.

Gray addressed his note to past Observer leaders (leaving me out since, sigh, I was a lowly reporter and copy editor), noting that this fall marks The Observer's 60th anniversary. He is compiling an anecdotal history of the paper, calling on us to "take up the mantle again and write one last story for their newspaper."

So here goes: one last Observer story by Bob Varettoni (aka "Scoop," as my Pangborn Hall dormmates called me).

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It was a dark and stormy night in Totowa, N.J. Suddenly, a shout rang out.

It was my mother, on the eve of my 22nd birthday. "Bobby," she said, "this came in the mail today." She hurled a cardboard tube up the stairs. The return address, written in the block type of a kidnapper: PO Box Q, Notre Dame, Ind.

Inside was a continuous, 12-foot scroll of yellow copy paper that had been left in a manual typewriter in The Observer's newsroom in September 1978... for anyone on staff to contribute to a birthday letter to me. I had graduated four months earlier, and I was homesick for everyone I had left behind in Indiana.

When I edited copy for The Observer, I would often, late in the evenings, leave a roll of paper in a random typewriter and start a rambling note (often beginning, like the cartoon-character Snoopy, "It was a dark and stormy night...") about my existential worries and non-existent love life (where, in the parlance of "Peanuts," I was always a chump).

So the staff kept that tradition alive for another month. Reading their birthday letter 47 years later is like traveling back in time. It's filled with the musings of future journalists and lawyers and business leaders who were stressed-out, overworked, overwhelmed, and paradoxically having the best times of their lives.

What was it like to work on The Observer staff in 1978? Here are 10 clues:

• "God help us, Diane, barefooted, said 20 minutes ago that she was going to leave and go home and get some sleep. That's the way it always starts, you know..."
• "Keith Moon is dead... Life won't be the same anymore."
• "The editorial layout guy is weird. I think he is a cucumber."
• "I hope the night editor can get the paper out without having a heart attack. He's in the other room, cussing Odland under his breath for making this issue 24 pages long."
• "Well, here I am again typing to you before I bite the big one and end up going to class."
• "I tried out for 'You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown' the other night, and made a fool of myself in the process. I tried out for one part but got another when I pretended I was talking to you, and the bitchiness came out just right."
• "You know what? This paper is shifting to the left. When I set the margins on Sunday they were at 20 and 80. Now they are at 15 and 74. From Sunday to today makes five days, so that's an average of one space per day. At that rate, we will fall into the Pacific Ocean in about 2 billion years, long after California has sunk beneath the waves."
• "We wrote not one but two ed's tonight on Dean Roemer's new Alcohol Directive, which is intended to stop campus alcoholism. It's the latest controversy on campus. The latest amusement too. It equals last year's issue of Al Hunter's suspension."
• "I want to put Tide in the Crossroads Fountain and watch the bubbles."
• "I go to the Grotto every night at midnight -- just to check. I mean you never know who'll be there, right? I'm sitting up here and everyone else is working and I'm not. Maybe if I type fast, everyone will think I'm busy working too. Oh, by the way, you do know who this is, don't you? Of course you do. I mean who else searches empty grottos? We miss you here, Bob."

I miss you too, Ann. I miss everybody.

A favorite part of the letter was from Tim Joyce, "the ace copyreader on this godforsaken rag tonight." He was writing at 11:30 on a Wednesday night, a half hour before his 20th birthday.

"What a hell of a way to start off the best years of my life," Tim wrote. He heard I lived in New Jersey, which is where he lived before he left for the fall semester 10 days prior: "that state where the grass is green, the air is clean, and the slot machines will wipe you clean." He advised me to look up a Jersey Shore bar band called Holme.

"At least in N.J. they let you drink beer out of kegs," he added. "Dean Roemer just issued an order to confiscate all kegs at student tailgaters this Saturday. What a goddamn killjoy. Well, it's almost 12 now, and my teenage years are just a few ticks left on the clock."

Just now in 2025, I checked to see that, incredibly, Holme still plays rock 'n roll classics at D'Jais Bar in Belmar. Their 7 p.m. shows have no cover... and, I think, this birthday week I will pay a visit D'Jais and raise a glass to Tim, and to the memory of Dean Roemer, and to all the wonderful people who included their names in this letter I treasure, this fading yellow scroll in the drawer of my nightstand in New Jersey.

Thank you to all who wrote -- Kathy and Tim, and Phil Cackley, Ann Gales, Diane Wilson, Barb Langhenry, Barbara ("B. not L.") Block, Mare Ulicny, Rosemary Mills, Mike ("you know, the short guy… thin mustache… oh well, forget it") Lewis, Dan Letcher, Maribeth Moran ("your last year, loving day editor"), Mark Rust, Steve Odland, and Frank Kebe.

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you.

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PS -- Thank you, too, for the personal ads that appeared in The Observer that birthday week, which I don't remember (or wanted to forget) seeing before now... but which are somehow available forever in the paper's online archive.

 

The Last Waltz: Goodbye, Catholic New York

I met Nancy, my wife, in the 1980s at a newspaper called Catholic New York.

That paper published its last edition today. Its editor, my friend John Woods, published this informative article about the publication's history.

In it, he mentions two editors I worked for at the start of my career: Anne Buckley and Gerald M. ("Jerry") Costello.

Both are now gone.

When Anne died in 2019, I posted about her life and legacy.

Anne was a wise woman; she suspected I wasn't good enough to marry Nancy.

Nevertheless, she wrote a charming column about our wedding day. There's an image of it below, and if you can't read the words in the photo, the words are posted here:

At Jerry's funeral in 2021, recalling that he recommended me for my first job and subsequently hired me twice, I learned he had sponsored many other journalists' careers... including another friend I met at Catholic New York, Monica Yehle, who sat beside me, and the Catholic Standard reporter in the pew behind us, and reporters, columnists, and editors who posted similar expressions of thanks on social media.

Jerry's obituary, written by his daughter Eileen, was wonderfully detailed: https://scanlanfuneralhome.com/tribute/details/10170/Gerald-Costello/obituary.html#tribute-start

His eulogy, delivered by his son Bob, focused on the impact of Jerry's life on his six children, 21 grandchildren, and eight great-grandchildren. Bob also spoke of Jerry's love of music, concluding with lyrics from Dan Fogelberg's "Leader of the Band" and applause from the congregation.

The photo below of the funeral Mass program includes Jerry's written reflection as he neared the end of his life and battled with Parkinson's disease.

The words in the photo are too muddy to read there, and Jerry's words were always precise. 

So here's what he wrote:

"The special memory I keep is one where I'm part of a band -- a big one, of course -- on a night when everything is going just right. All the sections are working together, and the five saxes that I'm leading are playing in perfect harmony, the music we're making is so good, so joyous that the crowd on the floor in front of us stops dancing -- just so they can listen. It may not have happened all the time, but often enough. And when it did, it brought a feeling of excited contentment that I remember still."

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To this day, I still remember, and miss, everyone at Catholic New York.

I appreciate that the cover of its last issue this week features a photo of St. Patrick's Cathedral, just like its first issue did. The photo is by Chris Sheridan, one of the most talented photographers I've ever had the honor to work with.

So I guess that's an appropriate "30."

And yes, Anne, we still have your wedding present. It's displayed proudly in our dining room.

It plays a waltz, and the music is forever haunting and joyous.

Thank you, Catholic New York.

Some Good News: New Milford NJ Edition

No, this isn't a Zoom meeting;
it's nine of more than 200 signs of appreciation around town. 

Among things I'm missing this cloudy Memorial Day weekend (besides some more sunshine) is another of John Krasinski's inspiring "Some Good News" reports.

Scrolling through my recent photos, though, I realize I don't need to look online for inspiration. It's been all around these past two and a half months in my own home town.

So now for some good news, New Milford NJ edition:

Let's start things off with this video of Gov. Murphy citing the efforts of a local high school student who sold lawn signs to purchase food this month for workers at local hospitals, the New Milford Volunteer Ambulance Corps, the New Milford Volunteer Fire Department and the CareOne New Milford assisted-living facility.

That's just the start of the good news. There are so many examples of good works around town... from food drives to the heroic efforts of healthcare workers, volunteers and small business owners... that a blog post can't capture all the detail.

Instead, here's a link to a Pinterest board with stories, photos and videos from around New Milford since the lockdown in March. There are more than 50 pins here that celebrate life in New Milford in the age of COVID-19.

https://www.pinterest.com/bvar/new-milford-nj-in-the-age-of-covid-19/

I especially love the photos of all the signs filled with appreciation and hope, the marriage photos, and the great journalism from reporters and photographers at northjersey.com and nj.com. Two examples of those stories this month:

• "Public service runs in the family for New Milford mother and daughter helping during pandemic"
• "Miracle recovery for high-risk teen in hospital for 26 days"

There's also a video of a mayoral proclamation for Mother's Day, read by a collection of local families.

As of this morning, the NJ Department of Health reports 436 confirmed COVID-19 cases in our town of about 16,500.

Behind each case is a neighbor, supported by dozens of first responders and healthcare workers and family members. Also, thousands of prayers.

There were more prayers just this morning in front of Borough Hall, as New Milford observed Memorial Day.

Even without a traditional parade, local heroes were honored. Signs with photos and biographical information for each fallen service member were unveiled on the borough hall lawn. The project is a joint effort of the Historic Preservation Commission and the Public Events Committee in observance of Military Appreciation Month. Signs will be displayed until May 31.

If you are unable to see the display in person, there's a video of it below, and the Historic Preservation Commission will post a profile of a war hero daily until May 31. Additionally, a slide show about New Milford’s military heroes, "The Stories Behind the Stars," can be viewed here on the historic commission's page on the borough's website.

That's all for now. I'm going to go outside. The sun has come out, and the weather... uh... looks pretty good.

Non-Fiction for Adults: Weinstein to Hart to Nabokov

A book store in Nyack, NY; photo by @bvarphotos

With the untimely death of the New York Mets 2019 season, I’ve had time to catch up on some reading these past few weeks.

I realize, now, that all these recent reads have been non-fiction titles – and that last week, on the first Thursday in November, much of the world celebrated #NationalNonfictionDay.

For children.

While many great reads were suggested for young adults on social media last week, let me offer a few non-fiction titles reviewed for adults.

They are filled with words that are heavy with nothing but trouble: Weinstein to Hart to Nabokov.

Catch and Kill: Lies, Spies, and a Conspiracy to Protect Predators by Ronan Farrow
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

After reading this book, I can’t even…

I can’t even believe the breadth and depth of Harvey Weinstein’s behavior – or his enablers.

I can’t even believe that NBC News refuses to conduct an independent investigation of how it botched the handling of this story.

I can’t even express how much I admire the tenacity and talent of Ronan Farrow.

Like “Bad Blood,” “Catch and Kill” is another great work of investigative journalism. It is an outstanding read, chronicling the abuse of power. It was the best book I read all month… and so far this year.


The Front Runner by Matt Bai
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This book – originally titled “All the Truth Is Out” – is an earnest recounting of Gary Hart’s place in history.

I read it after recently watching an earnest movie adaptation.

The movie was OK. To be honest, I didn’t enjoy the book any better than I enjoyed the movie. Earnest is not my cup of tea. I prefer Ernest, as in Hemingway. Also, I’m not a big fan of politicians.

Still, I am a big fan of journalists, and it’s hard not to be impressed by author Matt Bai, who, until recently, wrote political columns for Yahoo News.

Until recently, I was a media relations director for Yahoo’s corporate parent, Verizon.

Bai’s world and mine never collided. Even though we both received paychecks from the same company, the writers and editors who worked on Yahoo, TechCrunch, Engadget, HuffPo and other Verizon-owned media properties were never, as far as I could ever tell, interfered with by their corporate parent. In this way, Verizon was more supportive of journalists than, say, NBC News was of Ronan Farrow.

On both sides (corporate and publishing), we valued objectivity and professionalism. And humanity. Every time TechCrunch mentioned Verizon in a post, it added an editor’s note describing the company as the site’s “corporate overlord.”

This was as it should be. At one point, we in Verizon’s communications department even thought of purchasing “Corporate Overlord” t-shirts as a team-builder, but some PR issue or another diverted our attention.

All of which is to say that I do not pretend I can research, write and provide context as well as Bai and his colleagues.

I’m just a lowly reader, but this book didn’t engage or excite me.

That is, except for two redeeming scenes: the recounting of two of the author’s interactions with Gary Hart that gave me goosebumps.

I’ll write more about one scene when I turn to Nabokov. For now, take it from me, the final pages of Bai’s book are evocative and profound.

There’s a question left hanging as the book ends, delicately suspended in mid-air, described with extraordinary perspective and heartache.

Bravo, says the former corporate overlord. Bravo, I say again, for what it’s worth.


The Real Lolita: The Kidnapping of Sally Horner and the Novel that Scandalized the World by Sarah Weinman
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

The title says it all here, especially the breathless part about “the novel that scandalized the world.”

This is basically a solid true crime story about a heartbreaking tale of the 1948 abduction of an 11-year-old girl from Camden, NJ.

I’m glad that Sarah Weinman told this tale with such empathy and thoroughness. Where the book loses me is that, throughout, the author is shocked… SHOCKED… that Vladimir Nabokov might have had some knowledge of this crime when writing “Lolita.”

Nabokov makes one parenthetical reference to Sally Horner in “Lolita,” and a thorough vetting of his estate yielded one reference to her among the thousands of legendary index cards he used for notetaking and organization. This should hardly be surprising. It’s the 1950s version of finding a link in someone’s comprehensive browsing history.

My post, "Re-reading 'Lolita' in Middle Age"

Weinman uses this slim reed to indict, and even mock (see Vladimir chasing butterflies in his funny clothes; see his beleaguered wife Vera try to protect his image like a corporate PR director) the author for crass exploitation of a sex crime.

I don’t know how much Nabokov knew about Sally Horner and, frankly, I don’t care.

I also don’t need Weinman to tell me that “Lolita” is exploitative at its core.

There was a time in my life – when I was a sophomore at Notre Dame and read the book for the first time – that I was enamored with its art.

There was, in fact, the Saturday night someone drove a group of us the few miles from South Bend, IN, to Niles, MI, where the legal drinking age was 18.

I wound up drunk at a dive bar, reciting the opening lines of “Lolita” by heart. That should tell you all you need to know about my prospects for dating during college, and how much I loved that book.

I’m insufferable that way. Still. When a friend recently asked why I had pursued another PR job rather than retire after leaving Verizon, I winced as I realized I was semi-quoting lines from “Annie Hall,” written by Farrow’s father:

Annie: The people here are wonderful. I mean, you know, they just watch movies all day.

Alvy: Yeah, and gradually you get old and die. You know it’s important to make a little effort once in a while.

I once loved... no, lurved... “Annie Hall,” but lately I can’t stomach watching Woody Allen movies. I’ve long since cleared my house of his books.

It’s because I’ve grown up.

I now regard Nabokov’s pretty words as nothing more than pedophilia played out in prostitution, threats and manipulation, as Lolita cried herself to sleep every night.

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In Matt Bai’s book “The Front Runner,” the author is conversing with Gary Hart many years after his PR debacle.

Hart is reexamining his life and quoting from, of all things, the New Testament.

He can’t quite shake the implications of Jesus’ parable of the talents. Hart wonders aloud to a journalist if perhaps he hadn’t put to best use all his God-given abilities and blessings. Then he almost begins to cry.

I feel that way about myself most days. I feel that way about Nabokov too.

What if Nabokov had written a bold and insightful story about someone like Hart – or the homeless woman I just passed on the street? What great work of art could Nabokov have produced on the theme of the manipulation of power among adults, perhaps in terms of a character like Harvey Weinstein?

What if he had simply written about the intersection of life and baseball?

Extra Innings:

Can't Anybody Here Play This Game?: The Improbable Saga of the New York Mets' First Year by Jimmy Breslin
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

As I discovered this past weekend, a non-stop plane ride from New York to the heart of middle America is the exact amount of time it takes someone like me to read this short book by Jimmy Breslin, whose writing is an acquired taste.

In 1963, only five years after the American publication of “Lolita,” Breslin wrote about the intersection of life and baseball.

He wrote about the 1962 New York Mets. My sin, my soul.

Let’s-go-Mets: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of only one step to end, at three, by howling at the moon. Let’s. Go. Mets.

The Mets, in the immortal words of Breslin, are losers – just like nearly everybody else in life.

This book is about the most poetic season of the most poetic team in the most poetic of sports. It’s recommended reading, full of life’s wisdom.

These days, I enjoyed it more than “Lolita,” although not as much as I enjoyed and appreciated Ronan Farrow’s book about Harvey Weinstein. I don’t know what that says about my life. I must be a loser too.

Look at this tangle of thorns.


View all my Goodreads reviews

In Paterson, A Wall That Brings People Together

On August 28, 2019, a small ceremony in a small corner of Paterson, NJ, rekindled the spirit of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech.

Exactly 56 years after King challenged all to create a better world, a community came together to open a beautiful park on the corner of Auburn and Governor streets in what had been a blighted vacant lot.

I’ve visited and written about this community project before (in March 2018 and January 2019). Here are side-by-side photos of the park across the street from Bethel A.M.E. Church, where King visited in 1968, days before he was assassinated. I took the one on the left last year; the one on the right, yesterday.

The new park has two centerpieces: Stan Watts’ eight-foot bronze sculpture of King (pictured at the top of this post), and a colorful mural, inscribed “A Wall That Brings People Together,” painted by Paterson students Jonte Silver, Isaiah Stevens, Alberto Bustos and Claudia Clark. The park also features newly planted trees and flowers, chess tables and a Little Free Library.

You can read the whole story here by The Record’s Richard Cowen and in this account by TAPintoPaterson’s Ed Rumley. Several groups and individuals funded the project. Separately this past week, director Steven Spielberg -- in town to remake “West Side Story” -- made a substantial donation to improve Paterson parks.

Amid all this good news, Cowen adds this context:

“Fifty-one years after King’s visit, the corner of Auburn and Governor streets remains a dangerous place. The poverty that King saw as the root of racism pervades Paterson’s mostly black 4th Ward, along with the drugs and violence that accompany it. But the new park… is a respite from all that. It’s not just a symbol of hope; it’s a real place, an example of what can and does happen when people work together.”

The Record’s site also features a short video of the ribbon-cutting ceremony, including a reading from Paterson’s poet laureate (and Little Free Library steward), Talena Lachelle Queen.

Echoing King’s final plea on August 28, 1963, to “let freedom ring,” Queen challenged all to “let the bell ring for justice… for love… for equality.”

As the poet cued her listeners, they responded “ring!”... then louder “Ring!”... then louder “RING!”

Harold Burson, All the Way to Memphis

Meeting the legendary Harold Burson, July 8 in New York.

The center of the PR universe shifted nearly a thousand miles southwest this past week.

On July 23, Harold Burson, age 98, left his adopted home of New York City to return to his boyhood home in Memphis.

Burson is "The Godfather of PR," according to this "Daily Memphian" profile. He's also the B in the global communications agency BCW (Burson Cohn & Wolfe).

Back in Memphis, he is still working, although "enjoying a pace that's just a little bit slower than that of Manhattan," as he said in a statement.

Luckily for us in New York, just days before he left, The Museum of Public Relations invited local PR students to spend time with him in connection with the opening of its Harold Burson exhibit.

About 100 students, interns and professionals heard Burson's insights gained from his handling of historic PR cases. We also heard anecdotes from his life as a journalist, including his American Forces Network coverage of the Nuremberg Trials after World War II.

And -- thanks to Shelley and Barry Spector, founder and co-founder of the Museum -- these resources are available online. The Museum's Facebook page features a live-stream of the entire July 8 event and an edited, downloadable repost with better audio.

In addition, here are great recaps of the event and more background information about the Museum and Burson exhibit on O'Dwyer's (which also calls him "The Godfather of PR") and PRWeek (including a touching thank-you tribute by Kevin McCauley).

I've posted my own photos of the event in a Google Photos folder, and I want to thank Kathy Rennie who accompanied her PR class at New Jersey City University, for the photo posted here.

Goodbye, Mr. Burson. New York already misses you.

In Memory of Anne Buckley

Anne M. Buckley, the retired editor-in-chief of Catholic New York, died April 23, 2019.

I've mentioned Anne here before, reprinting a column she wrote about the courtship and wedding of Bob and Nancy Varettoni.

Anne's reporting of it was typically wonderful, and I've previously bemoaned that since much of her career was in the pre-web days, much of her work can't be found online.

So I'm happy to report that, in Anne's memory, CNY editor John Woods is now reprinting a number of her Editor's Report columns on its website. (The photo here, by the-one-and-only Chris Sheridan, is the familiar one printed for years alongside her CNY columns.)

Here's "Two Fathers, Two Sons" about Steven McDonald, the hero NYC detective who was shot in Central Park and paralyzed from the neck down. And here's "The Double Standard" about the hot-button issue of religion and politics. 

I won't... I can't... recount the many accomplishments of this trail-blazing Catholic journalist, writer and editor. But there are many details in the obituary in The Star-Ledger, which also includes a full reprint of her CNY obituary.

Here's a personal insight, though:

With Nancy due to be out of town with our daughter last night, I had been debating how I would spend my evening alone. A few days ago, before Anne's death, I told Nancy that I might attend a concert by Dan Schutte, a popular composer of liturgical music who was scheduled to appear at a parish in Roseland, NJ.

Reading up on Dan, I discovered that he's an ex-Jesuit -- and that my favorite song of his, "Here I Am, Lord," has been characterized by some as a rebellious anthem. Which only makes me like the song even more.

So it did not surprise me that at the funeral Mass for Anne Buckley yesterday in Caldwell, NJ, we all stood to sing "Here I Am, Lord" as her casket was carried into St. Aloysius Church.

After Mass, Nancy and I spoke to former colleagues -- most who continued at CNY for years after us -- about Anne's lasting impact. In a Facebook Messenger group chat, some of us even recalled colorful phrases she had used in her columns when we all worked together more than 30 years ago: "As clean as a convent parlor..." "Like eggs on a Teflon pan..." "Delft-saucer eyes..."

Here's a 30-second snippet from the 10-minute memorial video posted by Prout Funeral Home. It features photos of Anne, later in her career, surrounded by awards and CNY colleagues:

Finally, here's another personal story:

When I originally posted Anne's column to mark Bob and Nancy Varettoni's 30th wedding anniversary, Nancy was uneasy about it. She told me something that I never knew: that when she told Anne she was going to marry me, Anne expressed reservations.

She thought Nancy could have done better.

As always, Anne was right about that too.

The Lost Photos of Tom Lynch

THE Tom Lynch

Who inspired your love of photography?

For me, the answer is simple: Tom Lynch.

The hard part is, I can't show you an authenticated example of his work.

While over 40 billion photos and videos have now been shared on Instagram, not one of them has been a photo by Tom Lynch.

I'm referring to THE Tom Lynch -- the news photographer for the Passaic Herald-News and The Beacon who died in 2001.

For decades in New Jersey, the photo credit "by Tom Lynch" was a signature mark of a work of art.

Early in my career when I was a reporter for The Beacon, the newspaper for the Diocese of Paterson, I worked with Tom.

The photo of him here is a screen grab from the 50th anniversary of that publication, posted online in 2017. (No back issues are posted before May 2014, so the trail to find his photos online went cold there.)

Beginning in 1967, Tom was freelancing for The Beacon as "Christopher Shawn," because he didn't want his employers at the Herald-News to know about his second job. The thing was, his photos were so good, and so distinctive, they were instantly recognizable as Tom's.

You could spread out a dozen random black-and-white news and feature photos from the 60s, 70s and 80s -- and I guarantee that I, like the editors at the Herald-News, could pick out the one Tom Lynch photo in the bunch, based on the unique point of view and clarity of perspective.

For example, I'd be willing to bet this uncredited screen cap from The Beacon's anniversary post -- Bishop Lawrence Casey looming over linotypist Brother Michael Hlinka with a galley of the paper's first edition in hand -- is from a Christopher Shawn photo.

Since his "Christopher Shawn" ruse was in vain, Tom soon joined The Beacon under his own name (and started a second job repairing clocks). I worked with him in the early 1980s (when my own second job was writing obituaries for the Paterson News anonymously in the evenings, so my Beacon employers wouldn't know).

When we worked on Beacon assignments together, Tom would talk about his craft, and afterward I'd visit his darkroom to see the chemical development process.

It was art and magic at the same time. It engendered in me a love of photography.

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Steel stacks in Bethlehem

Fast-forward to today, when cellphone cameras and software have enabled me to at least approximate the same experience, without the same struggles.

There's an effortless magic to Instagram, and I love to post on that platform. Included here are images I posted yesterday at a stable in rural New Jersey and during a side-trip to Bethlehem, PA.

I love that people create things and put them out in the world for others to appreciate and connect with.

I don't know what Tom would think of Instagram, though. I wish he was still with us, so I could show him.

My favorite horse

Instead, I've decided to assign myself a second job in 2019: find and post photos by Tom Lynch.

If The Beacon doesn't mind and the Herald-News doesn't mind and the union doesn't mind, I may take a little time and start an Instagram account under the name Christopher Shawn.

There are already billions of images out in the world, like the innumerable lights in the night sky.

So many of these images are so beautiful, but only a few evoke an aesthetic that resonates with all of us.

To create something like this... to create something of meaning... we need someone to guide us.

To me, Tom Lynch is THE North Star.

Thoughts About Corporate Media Relations, In Real Life

“Annie Hall” is a favorite old movie.

In a favorite scene, a Columbia professor who teaches “TV, Media and Culture” stands in line in a crowded theater lobby, loudly and pompously trying to impress his date by quoting Marshall McLuhan.

The real McLuhan magically steps into the picture and shuts him up by saying, “You know nothing of my work! How you got to teach a course in anything is amazing!”

The punchline: If only real life were like that.

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Something similar happened to me recently.

Fade in to more than a year ago. Asked by Ragan Communications to talk about media relations to PR professionals, I cited a decades-old pamphlet, “The Executive’s Guide to Handling a Press Interview,” to say the basic principles of effective media relations hadn’t changed since.

Dick Martin, a legendary long-time AT&T PR executive, had published the following tips in 1977:
• Tell the truth
• Remember your audience
• Begin with your conclusions
• Be brief
• Avoid jargon
• Keep control of the interviews
• Don’t try to answer hypothetical questions
• Don’t lose your temper
• Don’t repeat negatives
• Remember, local news isn’t local 

All, to me, were still valid. The last point was prescient, since it was made long before the Internet existed. It referred to local news stories that had broader impact if syndicated by AP or UPI.

Now shift scenes to this past March, when I actually met Dick Martin.

He had just keynoted the “PR Women Who Changed History” event in New York, where he eloquently spoke about the life of the late Marilyn Laurie, AT&T’s first and only female chief communications officer. You can view a video of his talk on the Museum of PR’s Facebook page.

I excitedly introduced myself afterward and told Mr. Martin that I had used his 1977 pamphlet as the basis for a presentation about the immutable principles of good media relations.

He looked at me like I was crazy.

Urbane and polite, he didn’t exactly say, “You know nothing of my work! How you got to be a spokesperson for Verizon is amazing!”

Instead, as he furtively looked for the nearest exit, he simply said, “I don’t know about that. I think a lot of things have changed about media relations since then.”

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So I thought long and hard about what to say when the Museum of PR invited me to speak to students attending a PR Summer School event last month. The topic was how to be a corporate spokesperson.

Undaunted, I used the same slide of Dick Martin’s media relations tips. Good messaging is good messaging, I said, still believing the points he made in 1977 are just as valid today.

But, I acknowledged, so much else has changed in the meantime. Coincidentally, it’s changed in the same way Marshall McLuhan predicted it would in the 1960s. “The medium is the message” referred to a world connected by technology. This, McLuhan theorized, would change the nature of what’s news, and what our relationship is to all the things that will be communicated to us.

He was right. Technology and the global village created by the Internet have changed the nature of news, and the nature of our lives.

Avoiding politics, I pointed out recent evidence of this in the world of major league baseball.

About the nature of news. A story ran on TV evening news – which has precious little time to inform viewers about important world events – about a fan claiming a ball thrown into the stands by a Chicago Cubs player. A camera caught a man grabbing the ball and giving it to a woman seated next to him after it was muffed by a young boy in the row in front of them.

Social media went into immediate witch-hunt mode. Literally millions of people viewed the video on Twitter and condemned the man. The Cubs PR team reacted with blinding speed – the speed of good PR these days being measured in mere minutes in this era of 24/7 news cycles. They posted a tweet of a Cubs player handing the boy two autographed baseballs in atonement.

Only later – after initial news reports -- was it learned that the man in the video had collected many baseballs from his seat in back of the dugout during the year… and that he’s known for giving the baseballs he collects to children sitting nearby. Earlier that same game he had given that same boy an errant foul ball.

More and more, this is now the nature of news: lacking perspective, rushing to judgement, pandering to page views.

About the nature of ourselves. Do you know what niche area of PR will be extinct in 20 years?

Media training.

Consider 24-year-old Milwaukee Brewers pitcher Josh Hader’s locker-room interview after this year’s All Star Game. As he played in the game earlier that evening, the Twittersphere surfaced racist and misogynistic tweets from his account seven years earlier.

Again, the speed with which it became a story was mind-boggling. While the game was underway, baseball PR handlers descended into the stands to advise his parents to turn their Hader-emblazoned jerseys inside-out so they wouldn’t be harassed. Meanwhile, the players themselves consulted cell phones in the dugout as they followed the saga of Hader’s seven-year-old tweets.

Immediately after the game, facing dozens of reporters and cameras in a confined space in the locker room, Hader handled the interviews expertly: he sincerely apologized, took ownership of the situation, looked everyone in the eye and answered tough questions directly. He even volunteered to attend sensitivity training and gave some context (quoting rap lyrics) for his tweets as a 17-year-old.

Media trainers would advise that this is the first rule of damage control: go ugly early. Get all bad news out quickly and begin taking steps to fix things.

Hader seemingly knew this instinctively. His demeanor on camera, at the worst moment of his life, may well have been the product of having grown up in an age where people no longer have to be “trained” how to behave on camera.

The best video training technique these days is simply to turn a cell phone camera on yourself and record. You self-correct after seeing the video.

With video now part of everyone’s everyday lives, and some people having lived this way since childhood, we have become different people because of it.

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In this new environment, I offered students three takeaways that, even in 2018, harken to basic principles of media relations that Dick Martin might still agree with.

1. Respect Journalists.

In a recent Washington Post column about “the sorry state of corporate media relations,” Steven Pearlstein writes that in many companies what is widely referred to as “earned media” now takes a back seat to “owned media.” Companies use websites, Internet search engines and social media to build their brand identities and communicate directly with stakeholders.

True enough. Owned media is a strategic marketing and sales weapon.

But earned media -- getting a story told by a third-party who has no vested interest other than uncovering the truth – can be a weapon of mass destruction.

Earned media deserves PR attention now more than ever. Building trust with reporters and helping them do their jobs can authentically enhance a brand’s value in a way that money still can’t buy. Ignoring the power of earned media can quickly ruin reputations. Look what’s happened recently to Uber, Facebook and Wells Fargo. And to the entire business of Theranos.

As the number of true journalists sadly continues to decline, every one who remains deserves an increasingly higher degree of respect.

2. Learn the Numbers.

“Follow the money” isn’t just good advice for investigative journalists; it’s also good advice for  corporate communicators.

You can differentiate yourself from many PR peers and enhance your career by taking the time and effort to learn and understand your company’s finances.

To become a strategic adviser rather than an order-taker, it’s essential to view your company from an owner’s point of view and to understand the financial issues that drive business decisions.

While most everyone values lifelong learning, often “creatives” or “word-people” avoid learning about finance.

Here’s an easy fix: study earnings release disclosures, and read 10Ks and annual reports. At the very least, ask finance colleagues about their jobs. Invite an accountant to lunch.

3. Advocate for something you love.

This is by far the most important rule for any spokesperson.

I work for Verizon. Every day, the company connects millions of people, companies and communities with powerful technology. Here’s a video of my colleagues sharing their favorite lines from Verizon’s Credo, the set of principles pictured here that describes the company's core values.

Throughout my career, I’ve been privileged and honored to have been able to work with some of the best journalists in the world.

I’ve been equally privileged and honored to have been able to do so while speaking on behalf of Verizon employees.

If, in real life, you’re not proud of the PR work you’re doing, you’re advocating for the wrong company or client. Get out. Now.

You’d be better off going home and watching a favorite old movie.

Remembering MLK in Paterson, 50 Years Ago

Yesterday a local newspaper feature story inspired me to visit a modest church on Auburn Street in Paterson, NJ.

It's the site where, nearly 50 years ago today, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke for 20 minutes before traveling to Memphis, where he delivered his memorable, prophetic "mountaintop" speech on April 3 -- and where he was assassinated on April 4.

According to Richard Cowen's story in The Record, King's next-to-last speech on March 27, 1968, drew thousands of people who jammed the sidewalks as his motorcade, arriving from Newark, "finally turned the corner onto Auburn Street and made its way to the old wooden church where the sound of gospel music swirled through the rafters like incense."

The rest of the story about that late March night in Paterson is an outstanding example of local journalism, complete with a photo gallery, video and podcast. It reminded me of the fact-based, detailed front-page story in The Washington Post on Saturday morning before the March for Our Lives in DC (where King's 9-year-old granddaughter stirred a crowd of hundreds of thousands).

In fact, this same Saturday, some streets near Auburn Street (which has been officially renamed Freedom Boulevard, although there are no markings of this) were closed on the day of my visit because of a march to honor gun-death victims.

It was simply coincidental that this annual march in Paterson -- held on the Saturday before the Christian holiday of Palm Sunday -- was taking place on the same day as student-led protests held throughout the world to call for an end to gun violence and mass school shootings.

This is Paterson's heart-breaking reality: The modest Bethel A.M.E. church on Auburn Street/Freedom Boulevard was fenced-in and locked, and a resident quoted in Cowen's story noted that she does not feel free living here, due to the high crime rate of the area. She will not allow her son to walk to the library by himself, even though it is less than five blocks away. (Also, within a short distance from comfortable, upscale suburbs.)

Across the street from the church, a sign states that a park in Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s name is "coming soon." However, this plot of land and sign have been unattended for four years.

Just last week, according to The Record, the city tried to auction one of the two lots set aside for the park -- until Councilwoman Ruby Cotton, who represents the neighborhood, put a stop to it.  

Said the Rev. Allan Boyer, the church's current pastor: "I'd like to see a park for kids, with some cherry blossom trees, and some quotations from King, so they could learn about him." 

Meanwhile, Cotton has committed to building the park.

I believe she will succeed, and I'm going to see what I can do to help. After viewing yesterday's video of King's granddaughter, I have a little hope.

I believe that next March I will return to the same corner to take photos of some cherry blossoms.


Here's a January 2019 update to this story.

And here's what I saw at the site of the park in January 2021: