Bringing the media face-to-face with the public presents plenty of opportunities for things to go awry.
That's what makes it so much fun.
The day after, well, that's when we find out how things went, from the evaluation forms to the buzz in the blogosphere.
By the numbers, Connection Day brings out about 100 members of the New York-area media to meet about 400 members of the public. Companies large and small, nonprofits and one-person startups cross numerous county lines to fill seven rooms at the Long Island Hilton for three concurrent sessions. Panelists and moderators brave bridges, tolls and traffic to lead discussions filled with advice and, at times, highly charged and passionate discourse. See what I mean about the fun?
Connection Day is pretty much a blur of meeting and greeting, with plenty of trouble shooting thrown in, just for good measure. The next day is the day to slowly get out of bed, throw on comfortable clothes, grab a venti and head into the office.
Waiting there on my desk is an enormous stack of evaluation forms, demanding immediate attention. They're anonymously-filled out, and unsurprisingly, often acerbic. Notations on panelists they liked, but more often, those they didn't. Moderators who got on their nerves. Rooms that were too cold or too noisy. Ah, and that's just for starters.
The morning of Oct. 12 saw plenty of news waiting to happen. People started rolling into the hotel about 8 a.m. Halfway through the networking break, at 10:30 a.m., it was standing room only.
About 7 p.m. the night before, we canceled a panel, after all three panelists had to pull out, plus two others who had been on tap as replacements. Knowing I'd hate if I signed up for a panel and not one person on the panel matched the promotion materials, I gave in to the fates. Statistically speaking, the chances of all those people pulling out of one panel are so slim I can only reasonably assume the concept was cursed from the beginning. That now means about 50 people need to be reassigned to other workshops. Nicole is still in the office at 10 p.m., dealing with last-minute changes and guest lists.
In the a.m., I spend some time talking to vendors and participants. I'm approached by a few people, each with a slight case of trepidation. I'm not sure what it is, but plenty of people have told me I'm intimidating. The last few interviews I gave caused stuttering and stammering in reporters on the other end of the phone. I thought I was being nice. Sometimes, it appears I can annoy people simply by walking into the room. I decide there's only one thing to do about all of this: Stop wearing suits.
Thus far, my strategy doesn't seem to be working.
AP's Rich Mendelson doesn't care what I'm wearing. He's lost his day planner and, by extension, his life. A hard target search is in order, especially since he knows he has an afternoon meeting, just not where or with whom. My cell shows missed calls. Newsday's Sandra Peddie's stuck in court, but Steve Wick is on his way over. By the time I retrieve the message, Wick is standing in front of me. I walk him down the hallway, in a hand off to Gary Lewi.
From the evaluation forms, what happened within that room is the stuff from which legends are made.
Wick's last-minute save was simply part of Newsday's overall willingness to come out and play. That mood has somehow carried over to the rest of the event. The media say they're honored to be panelists; participants say how much they've looked forward to the date. Everyone is openly respectful.
Next door to the investigative panel, the topic is whether or not advertising can impact coverage. It's a topic that calls for a strong moderator. That's why I emailed Matt Crosson. He emailed back, saying he'd be happy to tackle the topic.
Cool.
I want panelists to be Dan Forman, together with Carl Corry, who I think will hit it off. Round it out with Scott Matthews of Fox 5. All's good, til Forman cancels at 5:30 p.m. the day prior. I move Michael Allen Harrison from another panel. Evaluations say: "Surprisingly good."
In the ballroom, Pat Halpin is moderating one of the biggest and always one of the most popular panels, pitching television news reporters. He's got a solid group; no worries about what's happening there. Linda Armyn graciously steps in to fill a last-minute moderator void in another room. Down the hallway, the bloggers are beginning to bounce off the walls. A passionate debate ensues. The topic: Free speech vs. responsibility. The upshot? Plenty to blog about later that day.
A lot of people won't invite bloggers to events, simply because of the wild card factor: You can't control what they'll say when they get back to blogging. Control isn't what I'm interested in; I want debate, the kind of discourse that makes people remember what America is supposed to be about. Pat Foye leads the charge. The bloggers are up for the challenge.
An alert goes off my laptop. Yep, the bloggers have posted. Seems the controversy continues in cyberspace. I decide I have the right to weigh in, and post a few comments of my own.
I can't help but wonder about the bloggers. Is the blogosphere where angry journalists go to be bitter? These folks seem well meaning enough, but there's such a distain for mainstream media you can't help but wonder. We all know MSM's reputation's in the cellar; yet bloggers need a step ladder to reach that. Judging by their postings, it's a small wonder. There's no fact checking, names are misspelled … and they love to say FAIR Media Council, despite the admonitions that we are not in any way, shape or form aligned with Fairness & Accuracy In Reporting. Despite their spotty recollection, they have deemed the event very "bloggy."
I hear one complaint about Bruce Lambert, and it's not really a complaint but, rather, a compliment. People want him to talk more. He's a perennial favorite as a panelist. Seems everybody except the Times knows Lambert should be more widely circulated.
Why they didn't take the stale stuff from the Long Island section and turn it into fresh stuff for the Metro section can only be attributed to an internal struggle of some sort. Certainly it wasn't a call made on behalf of its readers. And it wasn't due to lack of talent on staff.
The madness behind the decision to take the now-defunct Long Island section, hampered by a four-day lag between printing and delivery, to create the suburban section, which is still facing the delay in delivery but now sugarcoated in ever-more vague stories in a specific plan to appeal to suburbanites everywhere and, therefore, to attract no readers from anywhere, is a mystery. Such a conundrum, in fact, we're forced to wonder how long the Times will continue its current strategy for producing the highest quality obsolete information.
Jim Cameron's evaluations are all so stunning I begin to wonder if I should enlist an independent analysis of the handwriting samples, for fear Cameron is filling all of them out this way just to goof on me. But no, the only media trainer I trust is simply doing his shtick.
A couple of college students want to interview me for their news show. The reporter doesn't know how to properly introduce herself. I consider not doing it, then I decide it'll be much more effective to evaluate them and, through them, their professors. They have no idea where they are, or what the day is about. No clue how to ask a question. I'm polite, but just this once. Fair warning that next time, my oft-cited, highly intimidating manner will most likely come to the fore.
Patricia Kitchen emerges from her workshop, looking chic in her attire and victorious in her demeanor. She's had a lot of fun, and the evaluation forms show it: She's cited as one of the best panelists of the day.
On the other side of the coin, editors who can't explain what makes a story newsworthy leave me feeling lukewarm.
Joye Brown arrives right on time for her keynote. The ballroom is filling up as we get our acts together. Brian, the a/v guy, tells me he loves our Media Savvy breakfast series so much he makes sure he gets to work them. He even tells his mother what happens at them.
I'm not wearing a watch to note the time; Brown tapes hers to the podium to let her know when her time is up, but forgets to set the timer.
She talks about the good, the bad and the ugly of being a columnist. Of needing directions to get to places she'd never dreamed of going. Of watching people pose for pictures with the heart of a saint. Of the virtues of wi-fi. Of how, when it's all said and done, some of her most successful professional moments have boiled down to the good old-fashioned use of manners.
As she talks, I see the media relating to what she's saying and the public actively engaged in listening. I see a more diverse group of attendees, both in age and ethnicity. I wonder if it's due to the email promotion campaign; evaluations tell me email is the biggest reason people signed up. Only one form, one, tells me it was because of the newspaper ads.
Everyone is eating the cheesecake.
They're shy to get up and ask questions. Slowly but surely, it begins to happen. I see Sandy Hinden making a determined walk to the microphone. I wonder what's on his mind, since world peace is often his topic du jour. He tells Brown she should do a column about men because, as he says, "Men have problems."
The audience loves it.
Overall, the workshops are well received. A few malcontents here and there, but that's to be expected and appreciated, to some extent. Someone wants to know how come public relations executives are asking such basic questions. I know that's probably because there are few PR professionals in attendance. It's a misconception about the day that needs to be cleared up, right along with the misconception that you need to be a journalist to attend. All battles for another day.
I come to the evaluation forms that rate the panel I moderated. Only two people actually scored my performance. One said, excellent. The other, poor.
My email chimes. Mendelson drops a line, to let me know a nice lady at the hotel found his day planner.
He got his life back.
I break even, and the Starbucks is still hot.