My No Budget TV Talk Show

Okay, in this high rolling social media world where we fritter with Twitter, apply more makeup on Facebook and punch the keyboard to create new blog posts, I’m adding a new, narrow, more focused local direction.

I decided to start a TV talk show to air on our local cable system.  The system covers six towns in three counties.

There are several reasons for my 20th century move.  The cable manager, Tom Freeman, and I  have been talking about some kind of community service program for years.  Our campus TV club does a show but it still doesn’t fill the community service aspect fully.

In a new community relations committee I’m on, someone pointed out that many local residents have never been on the Mansfield University campus.

In a meeting with admissions directors recently, our system chancellor told directors that we’re overlooking our own backyards as far as promotion and recruiting.

We have many  professors, staff and community leaders with a lot of good, interesting things to say about what they’re doing.

So I went to the president and told her,  “I want to start a TV show.”  A very pro-community leader, she endorsed it on the spot.    I talked with Mark, our TV services person who also jumped on board.  I called people I knew would be interesting just to make sure I had enough subjects to get the show off the ground.

I named the show “Conversations.”

It is TV 101.  No special effects.  Some B-roll.  Some editing.  For anyone who’s been involved in productions, you know that creating a video or show is time-consuming.  I figured I would spend a few hours researching each guest or his or her subject.  The producer estimated that he would spend several hours in post-production.

We would do the interviews in the TV studio where we didn’t have to worry about lighting and sound.  (This soon changed, of course). I opted for just plain curtains for a background so the viewer stays focused on the conversation.  We’d use three cameras–one on the guest, one on me and one for me to talk directly to the viewer (intros, outros, commercial breaks).

With that agreement, the president’s approval and no proposal, master plan, needs assessment and all the other stuff that stifles creativity and creates obstacles to actual work, we jumped in.

The results?

I’ll talk about that next time.

The Wallendas Part 4

Angel, blonde hair glowing  in the spotlight, dressed in a bright turquoise jumpsuit, was a stunning figure.

She put her good foot on the steel wire.  She swung her her artificial leg and when the plastic foot landed softly on the wire, you could have heard a pin drop.  It was a long moment.  3,000 people became one as they focused on Angel.

She took a step forward, and then, with her prothesis, another.  She was nervous.  I wondered if I was going to have a heart attack.

She faced a 30-foot span with nothing between her and the hardwood floor 16 feet below.  In a few unbearable moments she was in the middle, where the wire sags just a little.  The tiniest misplaced move could end in a fall.

I swear you could feel the entire gym audience supporting her, praying for her. . .

So was I.  When you produce a special event you’re in a place somewhere between God and a gray area.  I wanted her to succeed for herself, and feel victory, hear applause, soak in the love.  I wanted to raise money to help her. I also wanted her to succeed so the university would benefit from the media coverage.  I wanted her to succeed, too, because if she didn’t, Mansfield would be remembered as the university where Angel Wallenda fell and ended her career.

Her walk seemed to take forever.

When she reached the platform on the other end, the gym burst into, I think,  the most heartfelt, exuberant applause I’ve ever heard in my life.

She turned and walked back.  All of us felt easier about that trip.  She was good.  She had no feeling in the plastic leg but somehow she had learned to make it work.  We were seeing something unique, remarkable, almost miraculous.

A young woman with two partial lungs, an artificial leg, needing cancer treatments, yet so full of hope, confidence and determination that she inspired people around the world.

That night at Mansfield University, Angel Wallenda truly became the Angel of the high wire.

* * *

The publicity was international.  We raised $3,500 in ticket sales.  Donations poured in from around the world and Angel went to California for the cancer treatments.

Angel was no stranger to publicity but the Farewell Walk at Mansfield University made her an icon.  She appeared on talk shows around the country.  Whenever little Steve appeared, he  wore a Mansfield University sweat shirt.

Reader’s Digest did a cover story on Angel.  Mansfield University was mentioned in a couple paragraphs.

My department won a CASE award for Special Events and I was invited to speak at a CASE conference.  I was asked to write articles.   I  was a 15-minute expert on special events.

I thought the The Farewell walk was the end of my relationship with the Wallendas.

I was wrong.

Two years later, I was involved with Steve Wallenda again.  This event nearly did end in tragedy.

The Wallendas Part 3

The media buzz leading up to the Wallenda event was a PR person’s dream.  We had the last male Wallenda descendant.  We had a nice looking blonde woman in her 20s who had overcome an abusive home, drugs and alcohol, and cancer. She was an amputee who walked the tightrope without a net.

And we had a cute three-year-old blond boy who was walking the wire with his dad.

Mansfield University  was sponsoring it to raise money for Angel’s cancer treatment.

The talk was international.

The  caveat was that if anyone of these players fell, the publicity would sour in an instant and be attached to Mansfield University forever.

The evening came.  The gym filled to capacity with around 3,000 people.  All the local media showed up.  The national media included the four major TV networks, Associated Press and a batch of national freelancers.

Steve Wallenda’s circus friends and other performers did their acts and it all worked the way it was supposed to.  The audience was entertained while they waited for the main event.

Finally Steve came out in an outfit Angel made for him.  He walked the wire back and forth, did a few quiet stunts, then put his  son on his shoulders and walked again. The crowd loved it.

Then, as an extra attraction and fund-raiser, the basketball coach, visibly nervous, climbed the ladder, grabbed Steve’s shoulders, and followed the famous Wallenda across the wire and back.  The sports media ate it up.

The climax, of course, was the appearance of Angel.  3,000 people watched her every move as she climbed the ladder, her prothesis in full view (remember this was 1990 when these things weren’t talked about and were usually hidden).

The suspense was nearly unbearable as she took the pole from Steve and stood there, hefting the pole for  balance.  She was pale, but full of confidence.  You could see her blotting out the rest of the world as she zeroed into total focus for what she was about to do.

Slowly, almost hesitantly she stepped out onto the wire.

And I and 3,000 others stopped breathing.

The Wallendas Part 2

(Ed. note.  This is part two of a continuing series.  Click here for part 1.)

Steve Wallenda explained that they had just moved into the area.  How they ended up in rural north central Pennsylvania, I don’t remember.  I’m not sure I ever asked.

I said in my last post that The Wrestler reminded me of Steve.  Steve was in his mid-40s  He’d worked the wire and acted as a Hollywood stuntman all his life. That’s what he knew.  That’s all he knew.

But when you’re in a physical profession, age takes its toll, no matter how good you are.  Steve had learned from his  uncles that you prepare for your event carefully.  And sometimes, no matter how meticulously you prepare, something can happen and you can die quickly.

Several of Steve’s  relatives had fallen to their deaths, most notably, Karl. Others were paralyzed. High wire walking is not an easy profession and in many cases, retirement is a faulty wire, or an unexpected wind gust.

Steve and Angel wanted Mansfield University to do an event — a high wire walk– to raise money for the cancer treatment.  Angel’s cancer was spreading and they needed to get to California for treatment.

“The Farewell Performance of the Wallendas,” Steve said.  “It’ll bring in lots of people.  I’ve still got a name.  I’m the last Wallenda.”  This, I soon found out, was highly contested among an extended family whose name was iconic in the 20th century.

I was in the music business for a lot of years.   I was also a PR person.

I understood that the Wallendas were using me.  I also understood that the  national publicity would benefit the university.

I would be using them.

A win-win situation.

I started working on the idea.  I called Dick Jones.  He recognized the potential and began pitching the national media.

Steve started calling his contacts and before we knew it, we had a mini circus — magicians, cyclists, clowns, animal acts.  It would be held in Decker Gym.  Like so many times when you need things to happen, I didn’t ask permission from the administration.  I just began working on it.

The vice president of finance had a fit because they had to drill huge holes in the gym walls to anchor the wire.  I’m pretty sure our insurance company went ballistic when they found that we were sponsoring a show with a famous aerialist, a one-legged woman walking the wire, a four-year-old boy. . . and no net.

Like so many things, entering in a state of ignorance was a blessing.  Had I known what we were going to go through, I never would have done it.

I suggested they might want a net.  “I’m a Wallenda,” Steve said.  “The Wallendas don’t use a net.  Ever.”

So be it.

Meanwhile, Dick Jones was lining up every major TV network, Associated Press, USA Today and other media.

As the date neared and the national buzz grew,  I worked 14 hours a day and had trouble sleeping.   If  this thing  succeeded, Mansfield University would be all over the world.

And if something tragic happened, Mansfield University would be all over the world.

It was too late now.

We had created something larger than all of us.

I pushed forward.

The Wallendas, A High Wire Course in Special Events

I watched The Wrestler recently. Aside from being a great movie, Mickey Rourke’s character, Randy “The Ram” Robinson, reminded me of Steve Wallenda.
Steve was grand nephew of Karl Wallenda of the Flying Wallendas, a family of high wire artists who date back to the1600’s, but who rose to international fame in the 20th century as the high wire artists who worked without a net.
Steve and his wife Angel walked into my office one September day. They introduced themselves and told me their life story.
Steve, one of the last male descendants of the famous family, met Lizzie Pintye at an ice cream shop where she worked in New York State.  Later, during a performance, he invited her to walk the wire with him.  She did. They fell in love and were married in 1985.  He called her Angel and the name stuck.

She became part of his act, his high flying “Angel on the high wire.”

Two years later she was diagnosed with bone cancer.  Her right leg was amputated below the knee in 1987.  The cancer spread and parts of both of her lungs were removed the following year .

She was fitted with an artificial leg and, amazingly, became the first amputee in history to walk the high wire, still  without a net.

Now, in the fall semester of 1989, they were sitting in my office.  Their four-year-old son Stevie, blond like his mother, ran up and down the hallway working off his kid energy.

They were here to make a proposal.  Steve outlined it.

I said I’d have to think about it, something I say to all big proposals.

I didn’t know it, but I was about to play a big role in changing their lives.

And they were going to change mine.

More in Part 2.

Three Decades, Nothing Changes

During my time at Mansfield University, I’ve served under five presidents and my department has been relocated four times.  With the most recent  move  to North Hall, our campus’  “Old Main” I decided to go through all my files and collected stuff.

Nearly three decades of stuff.

The first thing I discovered is that there was a lot of things I didn’t need.  I threw out about two-thirds of my holdings.

The second, and most important discovery:  nothing changes.

I didn’t read everything, but I did go through selected memos, minutes and discussions that began for me in 1980.

The first president I served under was controversial.  She was brought in to reduce the number of faculty.  She did it in a blunt way, not consistent with the smooth, sometimes hypocritical way of higher ed or any top management.

When she got the job done, with pressure from the faculty union, she took another job.  (Read fired.)

I won’t go through all the administrations.  What struck me was memos back and forth between me and my superiors about budgets, staffing, needing more help and money to do the job they were asking me to do.

There are memos of me defending the public relations department.  There are missives from me explaining that the results of PR cannot be bean counter quantified. (No one used the term ROI in 1985).

There are battles with a supervisor looking for ways to pressure me to leave.

There are also letters thanking me for the great job our department did publicizing their event.

I did not find one note congratulating us on getting our university into the Chronicle of Higher Education, The New York Times, USA Today, the dozens of Associated Press articles.

I did find notes that said we weren’t getting enough publicity for MU.

I found letters that said we were not touting our department’s accomplishments enough.  I found about the same number that said I was a publicity hog for our department and myself.

From every decade I found memos that said we were in a budget crisis and would have to find ways to do more with less, to work more efficiently and effectively . . . . .

I found, and continue to get, memos declaring that we have to be more accountable.

I found five year presidential reports on how we’re going to move bravely into the future.  Nowhere did I find a document showing that we accomplished all that we said we were going to do, except the Middle States Report.

Here’s the bottom line:  The only thing that changed in three decades was the method of communication . Fifteen years worth of communications were done on typewriters and mimeograph machines.  The last 15 were done on computers.

The human element–the hopes, dreams, successes, failures, the occasional lies, the infighting, rare  congratulations, the bullying, stalling, the forging ahead or the  fight for status quo — indeed, the human nature that hasn’t changed since Socrates, lay before me in tired piles of dusty files.

Technology changes.

Human nature does not.

My conclusion?  Do the best you can each day.  Push for what you believe in.  You’ll win some and lose some. At the end of the day the mark you leave will be forgotten but it will have helped the institution and contributed to your own intellectual and spiritual growth.

My new perspective was, in the end, liberating.

Where The Hell is Matt is marketing marvel

Where the Hell is Matt 2008 is one of the most inspiring videos I’ve seen this year (aside from Susan Boyle. Both by the way are masterpieces in shooting and editing).
As of this writing, WTHIM2008 is rocketing its way to 21 million views and 80,000 ratings, more than 200 video responses and 64,000 text responses.  In the category of Travel & Events it’s the number one most discussed and number two most viewed video of all time.

Why the popularity?  Well, it’s a quickie world tour, a whirlwind geography lesson.

It’s happy.

It’s funny (dancing by the ocean and getting washed out by a wave, curious dogs checking out crazy humans) .

It contains the continually unexpected.  The scenes run from good to gorgeous.

And about half way through the 4:29 video, it dawns on you again that, yes, the whole world can dance as one!  People from every culture can come together and feel joy.  You see it in every scene.  People –especially the kids — are having a ball.

Finally, it’s excellent marketing . The sponsor, Stride, doesn’t appear until the final second, after the credits.  The message in white type on a black screen is simple:  “And thanks once more to Stride for making this possible.”  It’s followed by the Stride url

I don’t know what it cost to produce WTHIM2008 but you can bet that Stride is feeling good about every penny spent in this message that contains — aside from the opening “point it that way, okay?– not one spoken word.  There’s not one pitch.

But there is a message.  It’s a beautiful, multicultural world in which there is music, dance and joy.

When life and consciousness can be distilled into this kind of living poetry, you know there’s hope for peace.

Imagine.

The Flu Pandemic Experiment

I have mixed feelings about all the swine flu hype.

On the one hand it feels like the media has gone overboard.
On the other hand, in today’s global society, local can go international pretty quickly.
With all the attention I finally remembered a podcast I did with Mansfield University professor Dr. Denise Seigart  about an experiment she did with her Public Health and Social Justice class in October 2007. The Flu Pandemic Experiment explored just how far a virus can travel and how many people can potentially be affected in one week.
The results were surprising, but they foresaw exactly what is happening now.

The whole show runs about 17 minutes.

Susan Boyle, Surprise, Inspiration

Occasionally I drift from higher education marketing, but this video, which I found by accident (I know, there are no accidents), changed my whole night.  I watched it four times, and it brought tears to my eyes each time.

Why?

It’s a Cinderella story.

It reminds us never to judge the book by the cover.

It reminds us that there is incredible beauty in humans when they are given a chance.

It underscores again that content beats flash.

It totally upends our society’s superficial definition of beauty.

I suspect Susan was allowed to audition as a comic element to be derided.

Man, did she fool everyone.  She conquered.

She showed us that being ourselves is the most magical gift of all.

I’m sharing the full version.  Shut the world out and watch.  You won’t regret it.

I’ve shared my thoughts and feelings with you. Watch it and share your thoughts with me.

Oh, and after you’ve watched it for the emotional content, go back and watch how they assembled and edited this video to create an entire movie in a mere seven minutes!

President Obama, Don’t Fib

Note: I modified this from my personal blog because the President’s gaff was a big PR blunder. All the marketing literature says when you make a mistake – whether you’re a company exec, education or political figure, or even someone at the foot of the totem pole like me – you admit the mistake and go on with things. This little bowing blunder is a reminder that in today’s mightily networked world, you either fess up fast or suffer the consequences.

Dear President Obama,

You said during your campaign that as president you would make mistakes.  You’re not perfect, you said.  You’re human.

That’s all true, of course.  But many, many millions of children and youth in the United States and around the world idolize you.  You are bigger than life.  To millions you are a super hero. You even have your own action figure.

You are a role model.

So don’t fib.

If you bowed to a king, say so.  Tell people it was a sign of respect.  You’ve talked a lot about respecting other countries and other people and most folks welcomed that new philosophy.

If bowing was out of place, then say “I made a mistake.”  You’ve done that before and won overwhelming respect for the admission.

Now, when your people say you weren’t bowing, it opens the door to critics to lash out at you.  It brings others to defend you and what suffers the most is the truth.

When I was a kid, Superman could do no wrong.

Today’s young people are more sophisticated.  They know super heroes are flawed, and their flaws are what keep them human.  But just as  important as their unique powers is that they own up to their mistakes.  If they can’t correct them, they at least admit to them.

If your bow was done out of sincerity and respect, say so.

The bow isn’t important except to mean-minded, frightened people who are terrible role models.

What is important to the next generation is the response following the action when you’re called on it.

Do what’s right in your heart.  Then tell the truth.

Don’t fib and don’t let others fib for you.

Thank you, Mr. President.