Fail Up (12 page)

Days after the shooting, President Obama attended a memorial service in Tucson where he delivered a memorable speech about the shooting:

“But at a time when our discourse has become
so sharply polarized—at a time when we are far too eager
to lay the blame for all that ails the world at the feet of
those who think differently than we do—
it's important for us to pause for a moment and
make sure that we are talking with each other in
a way that heals, not a way that wounds.”

In a nation where incivility is in our media, our politics, and our everyday life, Obama properly contextualized what we are up against. I wish the President had gotten around to that speech a year earlier, when South Carolina Congressman Joe Wilson stood up on the floor of the House during the President's State of the Union address and shouted: “You lie!” Obama quickly accepted Wilson's apology and—in the process—moved right past a teachable moment. I'm not saying it would have stopped a crazed gunman from killing innocent people, but I am suggesting that we would have been involved in a national conversation about civility long before the tragedy in Arizona.

Years ago, Sheryl Flowers tried to warn me that my foul mouth and aggressive behavior would slip across the boundary of our personal relationship and into our professional and public spheres. My point here is really Sheryl's point long ago: We must be equally cautious about our personal, professional, workplace, and shared spaces as citizens. Intimidating, disruptive, and inappropriate behavior is all uncivil behavior. Incivility feeds society's warlike aggressive notion that “might makes right.”

To remain dignified even when you feel justified not to is the shot of humanity that bolsters civility in an increasingly uncivil society. And there is hope.

A 2010 study conducted by the Center for Political Participation at Allegheny College (Pennsylvania) found that Americans overwhelmingly believe civility is important in politics. The majority of those surveyed (95 percent) said civility in politics was important for a healthy democracy. Further, it indicated that the majority of women—nearly six in ten—are more likely than men to be turned off by negative politics.

Daniel Shea, center director, said: “Americans believe in civility … and in compromise; they believe in middle-ground solutions.”

Shea makes a good point. We all really want to be less vulgar, abrasive, hostile, and aggressive. We just haven't cultivated the social tools required to help us respond in dignified ways when we feel attacked or slighted: Respect. Empathy. Understanding. Sympathy. Decency. Self-discipline. Love.

Success—personal, professional, and societal—mandates that we cultivate and master these tools that help us gain control, self-respect, and respect for others. When we conduct ourselves with dignity, we walk through the world with an inviolable sense of respect that invites emulation. Respect for others means we commit to making sacrifices. We sacrifice the temporary gratification of ego. We restrain the psychological trigger that can turn our words into weapons. We forfeit the emotional rewards derived from acting out, losing control, or reacting violently—even when we feel justified in doing so.

After the humiliating ordeal at NPR, Sheryl didn't beat me down or say, “I tried to warn you.” She knew me well enough to know that the CD shocked me out of my vulgarity. “Just do your best,” my dear departed friend said after I promised to correct my incorrect behavior.

I'm still working to better my best.

I believe the entertainer mentioned earlier hugged me tightly because she needed validation. She needed someone to say, “I understand.” But I think, in losing her cool, she saw a part of herself that caused her great grief and shame. In me, she recognized a fellow traveler on the dark side of incivility.

Believe me, I know the value of having someone close who at least understands why you did what you did. I'm glad I had a dear friend nearby in one of my darkest hours … a friend who wisely shared with me: “Even when you're justified, you have to remain dignified.”

CHAPTER 8

DO YOUR
HOMEWORK

W
e all make honest mistakes. There's no way I've been talking on TV and radio for 20 years without the occasional on-air faux pas. But I'm the kind of guy who prides himself on being prepared for any endeavor. No matter the situation—be it delivering speeches, conducting interviews, or presenting commentaries on my radio and TV programs—I like to avoid scripts, cue cards, and TelePrompters®. I excel in studied spontaneity. And the more homework I do, the better prepared I am to share the fruits of engaged conversation. With a combination of preparation, confidence, genuine interest in my subjects, intellectual curiosity, and occasional doses of wit, good on-air conversation can appear effortless.

In my world, honest mistakes, even for those who prefer scripts, are acceptable. Not doing your homework is not. There is a difference. Making a mistake is embarrassing. Failure to validate or back up your findings can ruin a promising career.

Consider the case of Dan Rather. A year short of his 25
^th
anniversary as anchor of the CBS
Evening News
, and what happens? One apparently flawed report aired on
60 Minutes II
about the special treatment that George W. Bush received as a member of the Texas Air National Guard, and Rather's misstep escalated into a career failure.

CBS had to admit it had been “misled” about the authenticity of the documents that disparaged Bush and launched an independent investigation. With storm clouds brewing,
60 Minutes
II
was abruptly canceled; Rather stepped down as the
Evening
News
anchor and—on June 20, 2006—left CBS altogether.

A lifelong record of excellence was tarnished because the homework hadn't been done.

Now, there are some media folk who seem to succeed despite sloppy standards. Since “news” has become mostly personality driven, the journalistic bar has been lowered. Talking heads can get by with partisan razzle-dazzle. Some can divert attention from their blunders by positioning themselves as victims of “mainstream media.” For example, Tea Party heartthrob Sarah Palin claimed it was the badgering by news anchor Katie Couric that led to her embarrassing, incoherent pre-2008 election interview with
CBS News
.

Rush Limbaugh took no permanent hit after he used an erroneous Wikipedia entry in September 2010 that misrepresented a district court judge in Florida. In his zeal to instill fear in health-care supporters appearing before Judge Roger Vinson, Limbaugh described him as a rugged outdoorsman who killed three bears and had their heads stuffed and mounted above his courtroom entrance. These “facts,” according to Limbaugh, would “instill the fear of God into the accused.”

Turns out, the story was false. When contacted by
The
New York Times
, Judge Vinson responded: “I've never killed a bear and I'm not Davy Crockett.” The judge's wife, Ellen, was offended by Limbaugh's assertion: “I don't think you should be able to broadcast something nationally if you can't verify it.”

I agree with Mrs. Vinson. If you can't authenticate it, don't say it. Do your homework.

For me, sobering, real-life experience has demanded that this yardstick become much more than a personal motto.

The Accountability Campaign

Throughout the 12 years I spent delivering commentaries on the
Tom Joyner Morning Show
, Tom and I engaged in a number of on-air advocacy campaigns. One such campaign launched in October 1999 involved CompUSA. At the time, African Americans spent $1.2 billion on computers and related equipment. CompUSA—the nation's largest computer retailer then—wasn't spending any money, really, to market or promote its products to Black consumers.

The company wasn't the only major corporation that practiced “selective economic amnesia” when it came to spending advertising dollars in Black and brown communities. In fact, our advocacy campaign gained national momentum when we discovered that these corporations, including CompUSA, were engaged in something called NUD, or “no urban dictate.” Through memos from advertising executives, we learned that corporations were directing ad agencies not to advertise in Black or Hispanic media outlets. In a memo explaining why advertising to Blacks or Hispanics was a bad idea, one executive offered this reasoning: “ … you want prospects, not suspects.”

We received a list from an advertising agency that identified the companies involved with NUD-related marketing. CompUSA was among the top offenders. Tom and I chose it for our advocacy campaign to send a message to all the companies engaged in this practice.

For ten weeks, we kept the pressure on CompUSA. We compiled the amount of money Blacks spent at electronic stores like CompUSA and juxtaposed those figures with what the company spent with Black advertising firms. We concocted a strategy that drew angry calls and letters on a region-byregion basis. So during any part of the ten-week campaign, CompUSA and all its branches were deluged with angry correspondences from Blacks living in the Northern, Southern, Eastern, or Western parts of the country.

Of course, during that time, we also addressed other issues related to economic and social injustice. Tom and I launched a crusade to have bestowed upon Rosa Parks, the mother of the civil rights movement, the Congressional Gold Medal before she died. Every day for one week, we called out the names of the Members of Congress who had not signed the House Resolution authored and introduced by the late Julia Carson (D-Indiana). In the end, Carson had obtained all the signatures she needed. In June of 1999, when President Bill Clinton bestowed Rosa Parks with the medal, Tom and I were seated in the Capitol Rotunda as guests of honor.

The Smokin' Gun

Meanwhile, the CompUSA campaign proceeded with no retreat or response from the company. To kick things up a notch, we asked our listeners to send us copies of their CompUSA receipts. They flowed in by the hundreds and thousands. In turn, we shipped boxes and boxes to CompUSA to prove that Black folk spent millions with the company.

This peaceful protest still wasn't enough to make it change course.

Then quite unexpectedly, I received a document I felt certain would tip the scales.

We had a few insiders at CompUSA. One of them, I believed, sent us the smoking gun—a fax, on company letterhead, with the name of a CompUSA senior vice president affixed. The missive urged me to break the news that the company had no African Americans on its board of directors. “No Black members of the board,” from an authentic source—that was enough for me. I anxiously read the letter on the air, even giving out the name of the executive who sent it.

One problem: It was a complete and utter hoax.

CompUSA called; there was no senior VP at the company with a name matching the one I had given on the air. The media had a field day with my mistake. I had egg all over my face. I have always considered myself a credible social commentator. Simply put, I dropped the ball. The failure to fact check forced me to give CompUSA, the target of our protest, a public apology:

“This is not up to my standards,” I apologized on-air. “I did not do my homework and literally did not check all the facts. I got burned. I'm sorry.”

Standoff at High Noon

Emboldened by my mistake, CompUSA decided to solicit the help of the ABC Radio Network—the company that syndicated Tom's show. In the ninth week of our ten-week campaign, Tom and I received a phone call from executives at ABC Radio: “Either you guys pull up off of CompUSA, or we'll pull the plug on the show,” we were told.

Tom and I caucused and decided we'd go on the air and play it by ear. The next day, ABC brass were listening. They had already called Tom's engineer and directed him to prepare a
The Best of the Tom Joyner Morning Show
backup tape. If either of us even mentioned CompUSA, they were prepared to immediately pull the plug on the show.