Sullivan Breaking Through

Communications Lessons From the Locker Room, the Board Room & the Oval Office
1. Auflage 2015
ISBN: 978-1-4835-5432-7
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 120 Seiten

When it comes to communicating your message, advances in technology and the rise of social media have created a razor thin margin for error. Whether sitting down with '60 Minutes' - or just your weekly staff meeting - Breaking Through provides a road map for effectively telling your story and driving your message. It's an entertaining read with each communications principle brought to life through compelling case studies and real life examples. From Charlie Sheen and Anthony Weiner to Michael Vick and Caroline Kennedy, there is much we can learn from the public missteps and recoveries of our celebrity CEOs, entertainers, politicians and sports stars. And don't think it couldn't happen to you.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Sullivan, Kevin

Leseproben

THE BACKSTORY “Chicago, sir. White Sox, not Cubs.” It’s January 2008. I’m in California, traveling on Marine One, the Presidential helicopter. I’m in the front of the aircraft, seated parallel to two facing chairs. The seat on the left, which has the Presidential seal embroidered on it,is occupied by George W. Bush. Sitting across from him is Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. I listen intently as they talk policy – trade, the environment, border security. How did I get here? I asked myself that question frequently during the two-and-a-halfyearsI servedas President Bush’s White House Communications Director. While Breaking Through is intended to be a guide for effectively telling your story in today’s media landscape, it seems that a bit of backstory might help set the stage. I came to the White House in July 2006 from the U.S. Department of Education. While coming to the West Wing from a Cabinet agency was not unusual, my original entry into the Administration was. I had begun my career in sports – first with the NBA’s Dallas Mavericksand later heading up communications at NBC Sports. In January 2005, I was enjoying new adventures assenior vice president of corporate communications and media relations at NBC Universal, when an early-morning email sent my career – and life – in an entirely unexpected direction. While taking the train from our home inWestchester County into Manhattan, I received an email on my Blackberry from Tom Luce, a prominent Dallas attorney I had come to know and admire during my Mavericks days. In classic Luce efficiency, the message was brief: “Would you be interested in a senior communications position with the Administration in Washington?” I chuckled as I thumbed back a snappy reply: “You mean the Wizards?” I quickly added that of course I would be interested in hearing more about anything Tom thought was a good idea. I was well aware that Tom was a devoted public education reform advocate. He had written books on how to save our public schools, and he foundedthe national non-profit, Communities Just For the Kids. In 1990,he had run for governor of Texas on an education platform. There was little doubt in my mind that his cryptic email had something to do with education. I respected Tom greatly and appreciated his interest in helping me, but his timing was all wrong. I was just 90 days into my new position with NBC Universal. I had gotten a nice raise, new benefits,andwas guaranteed a bonus of approximately $25,000 a year. My bonus was on the small side as far as GE execs go, but I always envied the guys who could count on a big lump sum payment like that once a year, and was thrilled to have joined their ranks. I had no idea what the pay for a government job would be, but I knew it would be a lot less than what I was making, which was almost a non-starter for me. And besides, how was I going to explain to the NBC executives who had advocated for my promotion from Sports to Corporate that I was leaving for some government job? No way. When I told my wife, Jo, about the email, she was intrigued, as I knew she would be. But wishing that the whole thing would just disappear, I tried to put it out of my mind. The following week, Tom reached me in Los Angeles, where I was co-chairing the first ever NBC Universal corporate communications summit – a meeting of all 100-plus communications staffers in our newly formed corporate family. Tom told me I would soon be getting a call from Margaret Spellings (never heard of her), who had been President Bush’s chief domestic policy advisor (didn’t fully understand what that meant) and was going to be the new Secretary of Education. Tom asked me if I had ever done anything untoward that would prevent me from passing the background check to secure a job in the Administration. “Probably,” I joked, thinking back on some ill-advised high school and college hijinks. But I reassured Tom that I had never been arrested or gotten into any real trouble. “What about politically?” he asked next. I told Tom that I had never really been politically active. I had always voted, including twice for President Bush, and as a news junkie, I had followed politics fairly closely. But other than some pro-life events organized by our Catholic church, I had never attended a public rally of any kind (except the time Jo and I found ourselves walking though a Mondale-Ferraro campaign event while in San Antonio for Mavericks summer league play). But right now, I was enjoying sunny California. We held the summit in Los Angeles,partly as a gesture to our new colleagues from the West Coast, but also as a fun field trip for the New York crowd. We had a reception in the Grill, which is where the Universal employees ate lunch – a kind of Hollywood equivalent of our own NBC Commissary at 30 Rock – only swanky and LA “cool.” A group of us were treated to a private screening of the film, “In Good Company,” starring Dennis Quaid, Scarlett Johansson and Topher Grace. There was a telephone next to my seat in the screening room. I picked it up and said to no one in particular, “Hold my calls. I’m on the lot.” We all had a good laugh. Leave this life for the U.S. Department of Education? Yeah, right. A week or so later, back in my office on the 14th floor of 30 Rock, Secretary Spellings called, just as Luce had predicted and I had feared. I frantically Googled her name as I picked up the phone. “Congratulations, Madame Secretary,” I began, hoping that was how I was supposed to address her. We had a nice talk. She was inheriting a public affairs mess. In the first term, the Department had entered intoa contract, through an outside public relations agency, with conservative African-American commentator Armstrong Williams, which paid Williams to say and write favorable things about President Bush’s main education initiative: the No Child Left Behind Act. It was a debacle that led to public embarrassment and worse –a Government Accountability Office reportthat said the payments were illegal. The new Secretary wanted to make a point by expanding and elevating the department’s top public affairs post into theSenate-confirmed Assistant Secretary for Communications andOutreach. “Anything that has anything to do with message,” would be included in this new office, she explained. That would include all elements of “outreach” (wasn’t sure what that meant), “intergov” (huh?), and oversight ofthe 10 regional offices. Sounded like a big job, and it was: the new Assistant Secretary would be responsible for approximately140 staffers – around 30 political appointees like me, withthe rest made up of career civil service employees. I told her I was flattered, but that she had the wrong guy. “I don’t know anything about any of this,” I told her. “Yeah you do,” she said. “You are a consumer of education. You went to school and you have kids in school. Don’t worry about the rest. We have plenty of people who know the policy side. I need a communicator. Will you at least meet me for lunch?” Sure, I told her. I liked her energy and attitude,and besides, it was an honor to be invited to lunch by a member of the President’s cabinet – that was a first for me. So a few days later, I flew to D.C. at my own expense (this would become a recurring theme, welcome to the government), and met the Secretary for lunch near her home in Alexandria, Virginia. The spot she picked was the Majestic Cafein Old Town Alexandria. Before ordering, she looked across the table at me and said: “I don’t know what you’ll do after NBC, but this will be the most important thing you’ve done so far. I’m putting together a team– it’s gonna be fun. We’re getting great people. The work is important. We don’t have a lot of time. It will be great for your family. You’re gonna love the President. And I won’t make a move without you. You’ll always be in the room. You really oughtta do this. Whadyya say?” Wow. That was the job interview. She was willing to accept whatever commitment I could make – one year would be fine. I was aware on some level that I was being asked to serve. Later I learned this moment is often referred to in Washington as, “Your government is calling.” I also knew that the call would only come once. As I left the Majestic andwalked to the King Street Metro station, I called Jo. “We’ve got a situation,” I told her. “Oh yeah?” she replied. “Good.” She was all for it. To Jo, the idea of public service had great appeal – the work just seemed more meaningful than what I was doing at NBC. Plus, after five years in New York, she was ready for another family adventure. She had no idea. I agonized for five or six weeks. I could not imagine how I was going to explain this move to my bosses, especially Bob Wright and Randy Falco, who had taken a chance on the NBC Sports guy and given me a fantastic opportunity. I allowed the government background check to get started, knowing I could slow-play that process a bit. One afternoon,I met with a young FBI agent in the basement of 30 Rock – we grabbed a table among the tourists at a crowded seating area just off the skating rink. No one could have possibly suspected he was asking me if I had ever plotted to overthrow our government. The first person I confided in at NBC Universal was...