The Wizard of Oz and the Best of the Southwest Communicators Conference

I finished out February by spending two days with public relations professionals from five states attending the Best of the Southwest Communicators Conference, presented by the Texas Public Relations Association and the PRSA Southwest District. It was well-organized, well-attended by professionals and students, and contained some great content, especially regarding strategic uses for social media. I really enjoyed networking and reconnecting with the old gang from Houston, where I practiced PR for nearly 20 years.

But there was one presentation that continues to eat at me. I had chosen this session because it covered a topic I hadn’t worked with in a number of years, and I saw it as a refresher as well as a chance to see how to apply new media to this topic. The room was full of veterans, mid-level, and beginning practitioners as well as a fair number of college students. I settled in between two gal-pals, one a college senior majoring in public relations, the other one a professor of PR at that same university (and like me, APR).

The speaker was a jovial professional with a distinguished career in news reporting before opening up a PR shop in Dallas. I had heard the name, and was anxious to hear what he had to offer. He used lots of visuals and war stories to punctuate his presentation.

Early on, after discussing an issue with multiple spokespersons, he said something like “make sure everyone gets together and gets their lies straight.” Madame professor looked at me in horror and scowled. Because I am often too willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, I whispered that I thought he was joking. It was, after all, late in the day on the 2nd day of the conference. However, nobody was laughing.

Our worst fears were confirmed during the Q&A session. In response to a question about dealing with bloggers criticizing your company or client, the speaker said something along the lines of “Oh yes, we’ll respond to a blogger. We won’t tell them who we are, but we’ll make our position known.”

Madame professor and I immediately started scribbling notes to each other and her student that this is a clear violation of the PRSA Code of Ethics. (See http://www.prsa.org/aboutUs/ethics/psaPS8.html and http://www.prsa.org/aboutUs/ethics/preamble_en.html ) If anybody else in the room was still awake enough to notice though, they didn’t say anything.

I now really wish I’d challenged the guy, but I wimped out. I’ve been thinking about it all week. I blew a chance to set the students in the room straight about the PRSA Code of Ethics, and remind all the professionals there too. Whether it’s because I was tired, afraid of confrontation, or just so amazed that the organizers didn’t vet this speaker better, I kept my mouth shut and instead exchanged notes with my seat partners like a group of schoolgirls. But I wanted to gather all the students and neophytes together, like a mother duck protecting her brood, and tell them this is not the way to practice PR. I blew my chance because I was afraid of being impolite.

This speaker reminded me of the Wizard of Oz—not the one who had Dorothy quaking in her ruby slippers, but the one behind the curtain. The guy playing with all the levers, pulling all the switches. The faker. The blowhard.

Blowhards like this guy are what give the entire public relations profession a black eye, and worse. And despite Sarbanes-Oxley and the fallout from the Enron scandal, the business world, including some in the PR world, still hasn’t learned that truthfulness is an essential business strategy. We watch Madoff and Stanford and some of our greatest American companies struggle with the truth in their business practices and ultimately in their PR practices, and we’re amazed at the damage they do and how they get away with it. And they get away with it because the media and the public assume their PR machines have gotten their lies straight.

In this age of citizen journalists, social networking and messaging at the speed of light, ethics, truthfulness and transparency are more vital than ever. Witnesses to events all have cell phone cameras and a means of communicating with them. Disloyal employees abound, and are only too willing to Tweet about the twits in the corner office, especially if they feel management is lying about something. In a viral world, there’s no such thing as confidential communications. Gone is the 24 hour news cycle to give everyone a chance to meet and, to use the presenter’s phrase, “get your lies straight.” Oh, yeah, you can try and cover something up, but sooner or later the truth will come out. As we said during Watergate, “it’s not the crime, it’s the cover-up.”

I don’t know what the answer here is, and I’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts about this. I’m truly hoping the ethical PR practitioners out there will keep leading by example, adhering to what’s ethical and right, even when it means risking a job or client. (And yes, I have quit a job over ethics.)

And let’s all grow the gonads and backbone to do what I didn’t do—challenge somebody who blatantly advocates unethical practices in business and PR.

"Little D" is Denton, Texas

If you’re of a certain age you can remember watching what I seem to remember was the Captain Kangaroo Show when they did a song about Dallas that went “BIG D! Little a, double l-a-s!” I can still remember that routine, even though I watched it on my parents’ fuzzy black and white TV long before Neil Armstrong walked on the Moon.

Today I’m living in the town I affectionately refer to as “little D,” Denton, Texas, the third point in the triangle that includes Dallas, Fort Worth and Denton.

I grew up in a small town–Winchester, Kentucky–and while I’ve lived in a number of large towns since then (Indianapolis, Riyadh, Houston) I’ve found Denton to be just about perfect for me. For one thing, it’s close enough to both Dallas and Fort Worth to get there in a timely manner when either business or pleasure calls. Being the media junkie that I am, there are plenty of online, on-air and on-paper news sources. And when I need to shop in person instead of online, the options in both cities are endless, as well as the dining and arts opportunities.

What is most appealing to me is that Denton is neither Dallas nor Fort Worth. One-upsmanship isn’t the game here, and neither is old money. Denton is a college town, but it isn’t defined by the two fine universities here. It’s not exclusively a bedroom community, either. It’s where two freeways (I-35 E and I-35 W) meet or diverge (depending on your perspective) as part of the Pan-American Highway, and that geographic detail almost defines the two major cities the freeways run through. Each is so different it’s hard to believe they’re in the same state, much less so close together.

In Denton we have wonderful arts opportunities, especially if you like opera and classical music. The town that gave the world Brave Combo and the One O’Clock Jazz Band also has a thriving live music scene. The historic town square, which in so many towns is a tourist trap of cutesy shops and “antique” malls, is frequented by the locals who genuinely enjoy the wine bar, ice cream parlor, coffee shop and restaurants interspersed between interesting businesses. A pleasant summer evening in downtown Denton often includes dining at an excellent restaurant, strolling around to Beth Marie’s for an ice cream, and wrapping up at Wine Squared with a glass of vino or beer and great conversation with whomever dropped by.

I’ve spent a lot of time in Guanajuato, Mexico, and find it similar to Denton. About the same size, the two towns are university towns, quiet, safe and friendly. There are lots of arts activities, and in the evenings, people gather in the square to chat and enjoy an evening with family and friends. Americans have forgotten how to really relax, but not in Denton.

On weekends my husband and I enjoy bicycling. From our house we can, in less than 15 minutes, be cycling on country roads among rolling hills and horse ranches that remind me of rural central Kentucky. We can ride for miles, stopping at country stores and restaurants for refreshment, and not be threatened by the many bicycle-haters in cars and trucks on the road. The people are friendly and helpful, and happy to see people out enjoying the countryside.

Friends and colleagues in Dallas and Fort Worth are constantly asking me if I mind driving into town for a meeting, lunch or social event. Not at all. I’d even gladly make the commute daily for the right job. When DART gets the Green Line to Carrolton open, that commute will get even easier. In the meantime, I’m always happy to come home to my quiet home in “little D.”

So I’ve titled this blog “The view from Little D” because while I’m up here away from the cacophony of the huge metropolitan area, I’m not out of touch. I love the vibrancy of the big urban area, but I’m glad I don’t have to live there 24/7. I’m just kicked back and relaxing, looking at the stars (which you can really see in Denton) and thinking this is the place to be.

Now you know that “Little D” is close, but oh so far away from “Big D.”

(c) Samra Jones Bufkins, 3/2/2009.