Stand And Deliver

What makes a good presentation? Let's start with some assumptions. First, your audience has little choice in the matter. Make the best of it for them. Most audience members have the attention span of a five-year old at best. You have to stand out in a crowd. Use every trick available. Hone your key messages. Practice.

Remember to breathe. You'll need the oxygen to communicate. How do you want to be perceived? Do you stand out from the crowd (for the right reasons)? Do you know how much you can communicate with your eyes, your eyebrows, your smile (or frown)? What about your tone and inflection? Be memorable (for the right reasons).

Utilize crisp visuals. I know this violates my cliche rule, but a picture is worth 1,000 words.  Remember, people want to hear from real people. Be outrageous, but be careful. Humor can come off badly with some. Eye contact is key. Like the god Janus, you must be able to look many directions at once. Avoid unhappiness and anxiety.

What about audio? Speech equals sound. Watch what you eat before you speak. Have water handy. Practice breathing control. In terms of body posture, find your natural body position, then work the room. Use a microphone if necessary. Hone your key messages. Start with an opener, hit your key messages. Three is best. Then conclude.

Remember that you are also a visual aid, including how you're dressed. Talk while you do stuff. Movement must be purposeful. Make gestures. Use your hands to help the audience visualize your purpose and intent. Finally, nervousness is normal. Don't freak. Mark Twain said: there are two types of speakers: the nervous, and the liars.

Y2K: Who Cares?

Nearly 20 years ago, it was a dark and stormy night.... Okay, you've heard it. But not this one. On December 31, 1999, I was sequestered in Eugene Water & Electric Board headquarters for an event that would never happen: Y2K. The end of the world, hellfire and brimstone, dogs and cats living together.... Well, you get it.

After rising early on December 31, 1999, I would spend the next 24 hours hanging with my EWEB homies, biding my time, playing solitaire, staring at the ceiling and the like. In other words, nothing. As the day wore on, my patience wore thin. No beer or nothing. Let's say I wasn't partying like it was 1999.

As midnight approached, I grew more sleep deprived as the clock continued to tick. We all stayed until 2 a.m. on January 1, 2000, just to be sure. If not a computer glitch, we feared terrorist or other boogeymen, so we hung for two more hours. Afterward, it was time for high quality beer, then hit the hay. What a waste.

This Aggression Will Not Stand

A Christmas medley, from all of us at Gonzo PR: JM in Eugene, Helmut Vallindaklopf in Washington D.C., Ramona Vallindaklopf in Genoa, Italy, and Wolfgang Majoris in Bangkok, Thailand.

JM: (editorial director, head writer, producer, art director, choreographer at Gonzo PR): "'Twas the eve of impeachment, and all through the mouse (read: rat), not a creature was stirring, not even a louse, the stockings were hung from the chimney with care, they were perfect for mice (rat), just about any day?

HV: "Hark hear us Dems, Chump we condemn, quid-pro-quoing, per abuse, must cut him loose, article two, that's just a few. Now move to add, that makes him bad, cheats on his wife, also two and three, merry, merry chump impeachment."

JM: "Bing, bing, bing, bong (sad, somber, solemn and satisfying.) Merry Christmas, everyone! And to all a good night. As an aside, I don't do New Year's Eve. Just another excuse to party. Like I need one. I do, however, look forward to an epic Rose Bowl on New Year's Day. As always, Go Ducks! Bust the Badgers."

Year Of The Pig

Admittedly, it's not much of a choice. We're moving from the Year of the Pig to the Year of the Rat. Hence I've put in a hasty Skype call to Helmut Vallindaklopf, GonzoPR's man in Washington, D.C.

JM: "Helmut, you must help me. What in tarnation is going on in your neck of the woods?"

HV: "Well, JM, there's certainly no lack of action around these parts. Herr Gropenfuhrer and his minions continue to lie, cheat and steal. Politicians should wear sponsor jackets. Then we'd know who owns them."

JM: "Indeed, Herr Gropenfuhrer set a new world record for tweets, including a vicious missive to Greta Thunberg, one day after she won Time's 'Person of the Year.'"

HV: "Yes, he told the Swedish teenager to chill, adding that she should work on her anger management skills. Of course, Thunberg has Asperger's syndrome."

JM: "Isn't it a sin to bully children?"

HV: "He's read neither the Old nor the New Testament."

JM: "As Joe Biden tweeted: 'Give it a rest, man.' What are we to do, Helmut?"

HV: "Vote for anybody but Herr Gropenfuhrer."

JM: "Yes indeed, Helmut. I will need to check in with you daily for now. The action just keeps coming. I'll contact you soon."

HV: "JM, you should come to my basement lair on Connecticut Avenue. I'll tidy the place up, and I have plenty of good beer."

JM: "I'll take the next flight out of Eugene. See you soon."

Pahto: The Forgotten Giant

Mt. Adams, second-highest peak in the Northwest, is The Forgotten Giant of Washington. It's certainly the most remote from Portland compared to Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Hood. I climbed the mountain just once, from the standard south side route via Trout Lake, north of White Salmon, Washington and Hood River, Oregon.

Pahto is the third leg of the love triangle that destroyed the Bridge of the Gods. A climber once described the mountain as "unimaginatively designed." Yet Pahto's vast size also lends the peak an impressive dignity. Rising over 1,000 feet above the floor, the southeast slope offers compelling views of St. Helens (below).

According to native lore, when St. Helens preferred Adams to Hood, the latter struck his northern neighbor with a blow so mighty that Pahto's head was utterly flattened. This fraternal battle, lost by Mt. Adams, explains the somewhat ungainly and bulbous appearance of the volcano. Pahto never recovered from its humiliation.

Pahto and Wy'east were those who courted Loowit, the damsel in question. Not seen by the white explorers, including George Vancouver and Wilson Price Hunt, Pahto truly is a forgotten giant. Because of its Johnny-come-lately status, it became a member of the president's club with Jefferson and Washington.

One Thomas J. Farnham, working from inadequate maps, placed Mt. Adams about 40 miles east of St. Helens. Big mistake. Mountaineer Ray Smutek commented recently: "In what has to be one of of geography's greatest coincidences, there was a mountain there to accept (one of the president's club's) names."

On our trips to the Owl Conservatory, we can see Pahto from Hood River all to Yakima via I-84 and U.S. Highway 97. At Biggs Junction, we can also see Wy'east near the Bridge of the Gods in Cascade Locks. On the northern end, we can see Mt. Adams, Mt. Rainier and the Stuart Range. Who's up for a trip to Trout Lake?

Loowit: Big Bang Theory

Because of its symmetrical shape, Mt. St. Helens looked like a snow cone from the picture window of my childhood home in the City of Roses. As referenced in Fire and Ice, the prologue to this series on the Cascade volcanoes, I had this recurring dream that the mountain had erupted. Then, it actually happened, in 1980.

Prior to 1980, when it blew its top, I had climbed the mountain at age 13, my second peak, following Mt. Hood. After the eruption, I scaled St. Helens another five times. Needless to say, the protocol to climb the peak had become more restrictive. When the mountain did explode, it sent ash and debris as far away as Missoula.

Native American legends reflected the immediacy of past eruptions.

Wy'east (Mt. Hood) would battle Pahto (Mt, Adams) for the affection of Loowit (Mt. St. Helens). Disasterous results soon ensued, causing the sacred "Bridge of the Gods" to collapse into the Columbia River.

At the time of the blast, we were working for that Forest Service in Entiat, Washington on the Columbia River. We didn't hear it, but saw the plume of ash cloud hurtling up the river (above). The subsequent  dusting enveloped the town of 300 just north of Wenatchee, Washington. It was quite a sight to behold.

After the big bang, the mountain had a few more eruptions, lesser but still significant. The surrounding became a national monument, and access, and a lottery was established: first-come, first-served. My merry band of gypsies, tramps and thieves and I took the bait. We climbed Loowit on a number of occasions.

Scaling the mountain is an experience. It's more difficult than it looks. We always climbed from the south side, where parking/camping is available via the road from Cougar, Washington. Ape Caves, complete with lava tubes, are open for tours. Anybody care to join me for a sojourn to Camper's Bivouac? Too early for flapjacks?

Highway 67: The Road Less Traveled

After tooling along Route 66, I’m taking a detour onto Highway 67, the road less traveled. When asked about my journey to the heart of the American dream, I reply with a simple response: “It’s complicated. Lots of ins and outs, ups and downs and what-have-you’s. Certainly, new information has come to light.

I’m reminded of a scene from “Invincible” with Mark Wahlberg as Vince Papale and Greg Kinnear as Dick Vermeil. Papale: “Excuse me, my name is spelled wrong.” Locker Room Janitor: “Nothin’ personal, but by the time I’m through with this, will it really matter?” Or so the story goes, like a Coen brothers movie.

It’s been a rocky road, resulting in a few bumps here and there. Nonetheless, I hope to recover this fumble and head for the opposite endzone. “He could go all the way,” as no less that ESPN’s Chris Berman would intone. I'll jump the out and return it for a touchdown. No sweat, meester! I’ll do a dance when I get there.

Meanwhile, I’ll opt to take the exit onto Highway 67 and explore new horizons. Now fully retired, I will boldly go where no one has gone before: venture to the Owl Conservatory and trek into the wilderness, hang with my beloved family, travel to Italy, Spain and Switzerland, help raise a granddaughter, and the like. I have a few ideas.

As Carl Spackler says in Caddyshack, “I have that going for me, which is nice.” What’s not to like? So, as I meander down Highway 67, I’ll be like a sponge and soak it all in. As Nikki Rowe stated so eloquently: “There’s only one place I want to go and it’s all the places I’ve never been.” Along with my favorite haunts, of course. Onward!

Wonders Of Wy'east

When it comes to tales about Native American life among the Cascade volcanoes, I can't seem to get enough: Mt. Hood, Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Adams, Mt. Mazama, Mt. Shasta, Glacier Peak, Mt. Baker, Mt. Rainier and more. The common belief? Powerful spirits lived on the tops, the kind you don't want to mess with.

Such is the case of Mt Hood, (Wy'east to the Multnomah tribe). It's the Cascade peak I'm most familiar with. We could see the mountain from my childhood home. Renamed by British explorers, Wy'east was one of three mountains involved in a love triad, along with Pahto (Mt. Adams) and Loowit (St. Helens). An ugly battle ensued.

Growing up in the City of Roses, Mt. Hood was the most prominent peak. Beginning with a summit experience at age 12, I have now climbed Wy'east, the tallest peak in Oregon, 11 times: twice with my Dad's climbing group, the rest with my loose confederation of pirates, too varied to identify by name.

At its zenith, the mountain stood 12,000 feet, rivaling Mt. Mazama to the south and Mt. Adams to the north, with fumaroles emitting sulphur dioxide that smells like rotten eggs. Near the summit, a bergshrund (crevasse) and portal (Pearly Gates) are the last obstacles before the top, which is about the length of a football field.

The mountain's glaciers drain to well known streams flowing into the Willamette and Columbia Rivers (Zigzag, Sandy, White and Hood Rivers). The Pleistocene glaciers eroded the upper canyons into U-shaped valleys. Wy'east consists primarily of andesite lavas. The surrounding topography was much the same as today.

Driving the Mt. Hood loop provides excellent views of its fellow Guardians of the Columbia, Mt. Adams (Pahto) and Mt. St. Helens (Loowit). Wy'east itself features numerous historical buildings, including Timberline Lodge on the south side and Cloud Cap Inn on the northeast side. You can drive to both landmarks.

Photography 101

Neither pure photographer, nor pure photojournalist, I'm more a combination of the two. Hence, I had a lecture on photography for budding bloggers in my "Taking Good Pictures" section of my Strategic Communications class. Many student blogs have plentiful pix and not enough copy, or too much copy but not enough visually.

I would begin by discussing how to move in closely and consider all angles on a shot. Closeups convey a sense of intimacy. Instead of backing up, move forward. Eliminate anything that doesn't add to the shot. Use leading lines that direct your viewer to your principal focal point, like a roadway or a shadow.

Also, choose the proper point of view, examining all angles of a shot. High angle or low angle? Move your camera to change the composition. Consider the horizon line. A pic can only tell one story effectively. Subject can be one or several. Avoid the middle when you can. Generally speaking, less means more.

Rules for good pix are not fixed and can vary widely. Nevertheless, understanding principles of good composition can help you prevent mistakes in subject arrangement and presentation. Visualize how the subjects play together. Plan figures of objects in certain positions. Positions can alter composition.

There's something to be said for being in the right place at the right time. Timing can be key. Remember, good composition is the result of of careful planning, patient waiting and a sense of the best moment to shoot. Dumb luck also helps, of course. Keep a digital camera handy, preferrably with variable lens capability.

Most quality pictures are not the result of a fortuitous accident. They are the result of timing and follow rules of good composition. The elements of each focal point should play well together. Consider the sight lines. Lead your viewer to your subject or subjects, and have fun being creative. Play with your work to fine tune it.

Mutual Mentoring

Shocked? Yes. Surprised? No. Humbled? Absolutely. Grateful? Without a doubt. Such was my reaction when I learned from my friend and colleague Dave Thompson that I was to be recognized as the winner of the Olga M. Haley Mentorship Award from the Oregon Chapter of the Public Relations Society of America.

But I must deflect, or perhaps reorient, such an honor to those who contributed: my students, whom I hope benefitted from the relationship as much as I. Also, my mentors at the UO j-school, and my PRSA homies in various leadership and governance activities. Most of all my family, who tolerated my antics and schedule.

How did it all begin? After the Earth cooled and the dinosaurs died, I graduated from the UO j-school and went to work as a reporter. After two years of gigs at weeklies throughout the Northwest, I served as a public information officer and writer/editor for the United States Forest Service in Seattle, Washington.

Inspired by the potential opportunities waiting in PR, I returned to the j-school for more training. Hired as PR coordinator at a local hospital a few years later, I signed on for a similar role at Eugene Water & Electric Board, Soon after, I was hired as an adjunct instructor at UO SOJC. Worked both gigs simultaneously for 23 years.

As an instructor in the PR sequence, I taught strategic writing and planning, newsletter publication and PR campaigns. My students returned the favor; they were instructive with Facebook. When asked if I was on the social medium, I sheepishly replied, “no.” They all laughed and then friended me on FB, once I was established.

They also mentored me on the art and science of other social media, such as LinkedIn and blogging. I was all in. In 2008, I founded GonzoPR. My writing skills, including headline writing, and photography and graphic design skills, all came in quite handy. No Twitter for me. I get into enough trouble with just my mouth.

And what of my colleagues? My merry band of pirates at the EWEB Conservation Center, my PRSA co-conspirators at district meetings and national leadership assembly, and my j-school cohorts? We’re all more trouble than a delegation of Canadian utility communicators at a BPA marketing and advertising meeting.

I would introduce my PR peeps to my UO PRSSA students, connecting them with professionals from around the U.S. and the world, aligning both parties based on their mutual interests. I know it’s cliché, but public relations is about networking. But when all the fun is over, it was back to work grading papers and preparing lectures.

As a utility communicator, I participated in the Eugene-Springfield PR Roundtable, the precursor of the Greater Oregon Chapter of PRSA. Liz Cawood, APR, spearheaded the effort and I was a founding member, and next, a board member. Eventually, I served as chair in 2004. I had been patiently waiting my turn.

In the mid-90s, I became professional advisor for UO PRSSA. In 2005, I attended the PRSSA gig during Christmas week in Miami Beach. The original date coincided with Hurricane Katrina. The PRSA conference was never rescheduled. There, I met Jedi Masters like the incomparable Betsy Plank, PR pioneer.

As an instructor, I primarily taught PR writing. Trained as a journalist, I covered the basics first. I would query the class: "How many parts of speech in the English language can you name?" They would volunteer their responses, starting with nouns and verbs. The one that stumped everybody? Interjections.

“Which ones are my favorites?" Stumped again. “I hate pronouns. Not as descriptive or as varied as nouns, and I prefer active over passive verbs, so we know who’s doing what. Adjectives? Yes, but not excessively. Adverbs and conjunctions? Transition words. Prepositions? Can’t live without them. Interjections? Almost never.

And punctuation? Indispensable. A period denotes end of sentence. Commas? A pause. Semi-colon? Two full sentences, related subjects. Colons? Part full sentence, part half sentence. Question marks? Vital. Prepositions? Always. Exclamation points? Sparingly. What does five say that one doesn’t? More than one is way too many!!!!!

Finally, at the end of the term, I would share life lessons. You sometimes have to fail miserably before succeeding greatly. Never give up. Abraham Lincoln failed at every bid for office save for three. On the third one, he became President of the United States of America. Not a bad outcome.

In the planning and campaigns classes, I illustrated the key values of strategy and research to justify budgets. If you have no plan, you have no money for public relations, advertising and marketing initiatives. Curious managers, supervisors and accountants want to know if your communications plan is worthy.

At PRSA/PRSSA conferences, I’d be busier than a barefoot boy on a red ant hill. Meetings with leadership assembly, social gatherings, conference programming (keynote speakers and break out sessions), and when I could get away with it, concerts at local establishments and tours of landmarks and other points of interest.

What now? Plenty. First and foremost, I’ll be spending time with my family. I’ll also continue to pursue my passion for writing, and photography and design, as well as hike in the wilderness, and consult with friends, colleagues and former students. Mentor and be mentored with all my peeps. What’s not to like? Onward.