REICH COMMUNICATIONS

THE Jazz Teacher

 

LaGuardia High School, originally called the High School of Music & Art, is New York City's public school for young people gifted in the arts.  It was the inspiration for the 1980 hit movie "Fame."

I was at the school last night as they celebrated the 40th anniversary of the school's jazz education program, which when it began in the early 1970s, was the first accredited program of its kind in any secondary school in the U.S.  My friend Justin DiCioccio was the teacher who began that program, and he was honored at last night's gala celebration.

 

Note: The New York Times has a nice profile in the Jan. 30 issue.  Click here to see it.

 

Justin loves jazz and he loves teaching young people.  He still teaches -- now at Manhattan School of Music, where he is the Associate Dean and Director of Jazz Studies.  And he travels literally around the world teaching and giving clinics.  His excellence as a teacher has been recognized many times, including being inducted into the Jazz Educators Hall of Fame in 2001.  His love of jazz is so infectious that he was named last year as the Cultural Jazz Ambassador to Tbilisi, Georgia.  The jazz ambassador program, from the U.S. Dept. of State, uses the arts as a way to bridge gaps and establish connections with other countries.  Georgia, a part of the old Iron Curtain, was one of those places where jazz had been banned under the old regime.

I met Justin back in 1987, when I was hired by a major PR agency to run the McDonald's business.  One of the programs McDonald's sponsored was the high school jazz competition and Justin, working as a consultant, directed the program.  I must admit it was my favorite project for two reasons -- I love jazz, and Justin was such a pleasure to work with.  He brought in name musicians to work with the kids -- Branford Marsalis, Steve Turre, Dave Valentin, Red Rodney and others.  And he gave so much of himself to the program and to the kids.  Much more than he was being paid to do.  I was able to convince the McDonald's people to support and expand the program.

When I left that job to start my own agency, the person who took over for me didn't have the passion for the music, and she let McDonald's drop the program within two years.  I tried to help Justin find a new sponsor, but I just couldn't get it done.  But Justin eventually got the National Academy of Recording Arts & Sciences -- the Grammy people -- to do a similar program, which to this day is run by Justin.

I'm far from the only person who admires Justin for his lifetime of dedication to jazz.  At last night's celebration, 30 of the top names in jazz came together to perform in honor of my friend.  Names like LaGuardia H.S. alumni (and former students of Justin's) Marcus Miller, Kenny Washington, Arturo O'Farrill, Don Byron and others who may not be as well known, but whose names can be seen on countless recordings.  And others who weren't taught by Justin, but have worked with him -- Latin jazz master Paquito D'Rivera, guitarist John Pizzarelli and trumpeter Jimmy Owens, who graduated LaGuardia before Justin had arrived. 

It was a great night and a fitting way to salute THE jazz teacher, with so many of his students and friends playing for him.  I'm proud to call Justin my friend and I was thrilled to be part of the crowd gathered in his honor.  And I'll see him again tonight, as he goes back to his role as teacher, conducting the Manhattan School of Music big band as they debut student compositions.

 

Justin with former student, drummer Kenny Washington

 

 

 

 

Weekend Thoughts: A Book on the Beach

 

 

 

 

 

It was late January of this year.  I was on the beach 
in St. Maarten, alternating between dozing and 
reading.  My wife was on the chair next to me, 
engrossed in a book.  I noticed she was wiping her 
eyes, so I laughed and made a dumb comment about the trash 
novel I thought she was reading.

Roz said, "No, this is an amazing story.  You have to read it when 
I'm done."

When she finished, she gave me her e-reader and I started reading,
not knowing what to expect.  I couldn't put it down.  It was the story
of a successful businesswoman who did what so many of us in New 
York City do when we see a homeless person asking for money or 
food – she walked past him.  

But, the book tells us, on that particular day 26 years ago, some-
thing prompted Laura Schroff to stop, turn around and walk back a 
block.  She asked the 11-year old boy who had asked her for money 
if he was hungry and if she could she buy him something to eat.  
Maurice, who lived with his drug-addicted mother in a welfare hotel, 
told Laura "yes" and the two went to the nearby McDonald's.

That's how a 26-year friendship began between two of the most 
unlikely candidates for friendship.  As I read, the book took me 
through weekly lunches at McDonald's where the two slowly got to 
know each other.  The businesswoman eventually ventured beyond 
the fast food restaurant with the boy, teaching him things most 11-
year olds know, but which Maurice didn't  – like how to use utensils 
to eat or how to blow his nose.   

There were times when Maurice didn't show up for the weekly 
lunch – sometimes disappearing for weeks or months and causing 
Laura to wonder if he was alright.  But eventually he'd show up and 
the friendship continued over the years.

Laura's friendship and guidance helped keep Maurice from drugs 
and gangs and the other dangerous temptations in his world.  And 
the talks and times with Maurice helped Laura come to terms with 
challenges she had faced growing up in middle-class suburbia where, 
behind the closed doors of her own home, lay the terror of living 
with an alcoholic and sometimes abusive father.

The book has a wonderful ending, and I found myself wiping away 
tears on the beach as my wife chided me for having teased her the 
day before when she finished the book.  What made the story 
especially hard-hitting is that it is true.

I was so moved that, while still on vacation, I sent an email to one 
of my clients.  I told her -- the head of a non-profit group called The 
Christophers – that she had to read this book.  But in this case, it 
wasn't just telling a friend about a book I thought she might enjoy.  
I was recommending the book for consideration for a Christopher 
Award, given every year to the creators of books, feature films and 
television programs that tell stories of how one individual can make 
a difference.  Over a period of more than 15 years working with The 
Christophers, this was the first time I had ever made such a 
suggestion.

So I was thrilled a few weeks later when I was given the informa-
tion about the Christopher Award winners, and I saw "An Invisible 
Thread" on the winners' list.  It was the book I had read on the 
beach in January.

In the course of doing advance publicity for the Christopher Awards 
ceremony, I contacted the publishers of the winning books and, in a 
few cases, the authors themselves to get background and arrange 
for media interviews.  So it was a strange thrill that day last month 
when I made the call to Laura Schroff, to talk about her availability 
for press interviews.  And I told her how my wife had given me the 
book to read on the beach and how it made me cry.  We struck up a 
friendship by phone and email, which was easy for me since I 
already knew this woman's personal life story.

Last Thursday night, the Christophers held their 63rd annual awards 
ceremony.  Nearly two dozen people were honored for their work in 
books, films and TV, and special awards were given to former New 
York Jets player Marty Lyons for his work over 30 years of helping 
fulfill the wishes of seriously ill kids, and to Mother Dolores Hart, a 
cloistered nun who is the subject of a book and a film, but is best-
known from her days as an actress who shared the first on-screen 
kiss with Elvis Presley.

For me, though, the night was made extra special by finally meeting 
Laura Schroff (and her co-writer Alex Tresniowski) along with 
Maurice Mazyck, who is now a charming, soft-spoken man in his 
late 30s.  As we hugged, I knew that my circle of friends has been 
expanded in a special way.  

And it started with a book on the beach.

I love my job.   



Maurice, me and Laura
at The Christopher Awards

# 500

 

This is my 500th post at my 2 cents.  Who would've thought?

I remember when I began to blog, nearly five years ago.  My friend CK (Christina Kerley), who got me started, had been an active blogger for well over a year, even though I had told her at first that she was wasting her time.  I couldn't have been more wrong.

So here I am... 500 posts and nearly 2,000 comments later.  Comments have come from people I know, from many I don't know and from some who I've come to know online and in person.  Comments have been from people throughout the U.S. and Canada, and from Europe, Australia, Asia, India, the Middle East and South America.  None yet from Africa or Antarctica, but you never know.

What I had called a waste of time when CK began has turned out to be a rewarding activity, in so many ways.  Blogging has encouraged me to look at things a bit more closely.  It's brought me several new friends who I sometimes engage with offline or even in person.  It's brought me some business, although that was not the reason I began to blog.

About a year after I began my blog, I was fortunate to participate in the Blogger Social, which was held here in New York.  More than a hundred people I had been communicating with online gathered to meet face-to-face and get to know each other.  I met friends from as far away as Australia and Oman and as close as nearby towns in New York, New Jersey and Connecticut.  It truly was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

A series of comments by Australian Gavin Heaton on a post by Des Moines' Drew McLellan led to a collaboration by 100 bloggers worldwide, and a book called Age of Conversation. I am proud to have been a part of that and the two succeeding volumes.  In addition to bringing together more than 200 of us who contributed chapters to the books, it also raised upwards of $15,000 for some worthwhile international charities.

Some of the bloggers who were active when I began have since stopped or migrated to other social media platforms.  I'm on Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn and a few others, but I still enjoy writing my blog most.  I'm not confined to 140 characters, first of all, and, OMG, I don't have to write in shorthand.

So I hope you'll stay with me here and maybe, with some luck, we can celebrate 1,000 posts together.

Thanks for all the comments and encouragement and, most of all, thanks for reading and letting me pass along my 2 cents.

David

 

 

 

 

 

Weekend Thoughts ... A Message from Delia

My daughter Jennifer lost her best pal yesterday morning.  We knew it was coming, but it's never easy to lose a dear friend and a member of the family.

I last saw Delia three weeks ago, on a visit to Jennifer and her family up in Maine.  We had taken her to the beach and she frolicked in the water as if she were still a youngster.  She had a big smile on her face.  She was happy.

Before I got into the car to return home to New York, I went back inside the house to give Delia a kiss and, just in case I wouldn't see her again, I thanked her for her years of friendship to Jen and her family.  She kissed me back and looked into my eyes.  Although she didn't speak, she told me something that I wrote down as soon as I got home.

I sent Delia's message to my daughter last night....

 

 

Please don’t be sad.

You’ve given me the best life any pup could hope for.  It’s been a life filled with lots of food and treats, belly rubs and pats on my fuzzy head, playing ball and swimming and walks in the woods, and sleeping on comfortable beds, couches and special spots on the floor.

Best of all, I’ve always had a life filled with your unending love and affection, respect and attention.

Yes, some of that attention was diminished six years ago when you had Jack and then when Gabriel came along two years ago.  I’ll admit, I may have had a bit of attitude the first time, but as I matured, I realized how happy those boys make you… and I am happy for anything that makes you happy.

I remember all the good times, starting from when you brought me home in Oregon.  I remember my friends like Luna and Buster and, of course, my surrogate pup Loki.  I was there when he came home, and all of him was just as big as my fuzzy head.

And then, after a stop in New York for a few months, where I got to know Gram and Pop even better, you brought me to Maine where there was water everywhere.  Living by the lake was a great place to spend a year, followed by that awesome spot right up the dirt road from not one, but two beaches and giant lawns perfect for running and rolling.  Even after we moved to our present house, you still took me to beaches at Harpswell and Popham.  It was always fun, and it made me even happier inside to see how you smiled as I jumped in the waves and chased sticks non-stop in the water.

There were a few bumps, but you helped me past them.  That airplane ride from out west to New York was not fun.  And my unexpected meeting with a porcupine was pretty bad… much worse than getting skunked.  But you were there to hold me and calm me, and I tried to show you with tail wags and licks that I was ok.

I am still ok, except now, instead of you watching over me, my role is to watch over you.  And now I can tell you something that I suspect you’ve always felt.  Some dogs do have souls, and I’m one of the lucky ones.

So I will always be looking over you, trying to keep you happy and safe and secure.  You’ll smile sometimes, and whether you realize it or not, it will be because my soul has wagged its tail for you.  

And when you’re ready for the companionship of another pup in your life, please understand that I’ll be fine with it.  I know he or she won’t be a replacement for me, but rather a tribute to the wonderful friendship we’ve had.  I will be happy for you.

So don’t be sad.  My wags and licks and fuzziness and sweetness are indelibly locked in your mind, and all you have to do is remember and those things will be there for you.

And a very long long time from now, when you are ready to end your life journey, I will be there waiting to welcome you with wags and licks.  But don’t rush – I’m a dog and I have lots of patience…knowing we will see each other again.

With Love and Devotion always,

   D

your Sweet Delia D

 

September 2, 2011

 

 

 

Weekend Thoughts ... A book to buy

True Stories of Online Dating

Online dating...  Back when I was dating, there wasn't such a thing as "online," let alone online dating.  An adventurous way to meet someone was a blind date, which often didn't work out too well.

But here were are in the 21st Century, and along with so many other things we now do online, from talking and mailing to shopping and playing games, meeting people online is now a commonplace activity.

My good friend Robin Mesger did the bar scene here in New York and then when she moved to L.A.  But once in L.A. she gave online dating a try, hoping Mr. Right -- or at least Mr. Nice Guy to go out with -- might be waiting for her in cyberspace.

I heard some of the stories of her online dating exploits, many of which were hilarious when told with Robin's uniquely funny way of storytelling.  Others thought they were funny too, so she teamed up with  friend Stacey Levin to tell their own online dating stories and those of several other people they knew.

The result is a really funny book that's just dying to be made into a TV series. 

"I Don't Want to Die Alone!" has just been published by Outskirts Press and it's available -- where else? -- online.  $15.95 will get you 171 pages of funny stories of true online dating exploits.

Want to buy a copy?  Click here to get to Barnes & Noble online.

 

 

Weekend Thoughts

Books -- The Art of Racing in the Rain

Although this is under the Weekend Thoughts heading, it's not really the weekend anymore since it's 4:15 Monday morning.  But where I am, on the island of Kauai in Hawaii, it's still Sunday night.  And any way, since I'm on vacation, every day seems like the weekend.

I hadn't planned to post while away, but on the plane over here I read a book that blew me away.  Especially if you have a dog or if you love or have loved a dog, this book is for you.

Garth Stein wrote a beautiful story, but unlike other dog books like Marley and Me, this one is different.  It's written from the dog's viewpoint.  And it's not so much about the dog, but about the family he's with. 

The book requires a leap of faith, one that most dog lovers will be able to make.  The idea is dogs think and some can have almost human-like thoughts.

The teller of this tale is Enzo, who has two great wishes.  He wishes he could have opposable thumbs, so he could pick things up and turn doorknobs.  And he wishes something he heard on the National Geographic Channel when his owner left the TV on for him is true, that some dogs come back as humans after they die.  Enzo believes he is one of those dogs.

It's a great story, beautifully told.  When I finished the book, I had to run to the back of the plane to the bathroom to catch my breath and compose myself.  It took me a good 15 or 20 minutes to be able to talk afterwards.

It wasn't because the dog dies -- you sort of know that almost from Page One.  It's just the idea that our canine friends might -- just might -- be smarter than we give them credit for, that maybe they really understand a lot of what we do and say and that they try, in ways we don't usually see or understand, to tell us what they are thinking.

So, as I said above, check this book out if you have or have had a relationship with a dog.

The Art of Racing in the Rain, by Garth Stein, from Harper Collins for $23.95.

Never forget

           Our hearts still ache.

.

Weekend Thoughts ... Father's Day

I love being a Daddy.

When my kids were little, I'd have the greatest time getting down on the floor and playing with them -- making funny faces and silly noises; teasing them with jokes and nonsensical statements; giving piggyback rides all over the house.

Being a Daddy also meant I had a legitimate excuse to do "kid" things with them, even if the kids weren't interested -- building stuff with Tinkertoys and Legos, playing vroom vroom with Matchbox cars and trucks.

As my kids grew up, I couldn't play Tinkertoy and vroom vroom with them anymore.  I still wanted to, but their interests changed and matured.  Instead, my joy that derived from playing on the floor with their toys changed to the special joy derived from pride as I watched them do well in school and develop into wonderful adults.

As my daughter has given me two grandsons over the past 4-1/2 years, I'm getting to do the "kid stuff" again.  Tinkertoys and Lincoln logs are back in my life -- maybe Lego will be soon, too, as Jack becomes old enough.

As I watch my kids moving ahead with their own life journeys, I feel like every day is Father's Day. 

I get such happiness and pride and pleasure when I hear of the little everyday things Jennifer is teaching Jack and little Gabriel.  I am so proud to see what a phenomenal Mommy she is.  The proof is there to see, as I realize what wonderful little people she is shaping.

And I am thrilled when I see the latest film work by my son Michael.  He's still paying his dues in a very tough field -- filmmaking.  But the work he's done so far is awesome, and I am always blown away by his creativity and his skill.

And not only on Father's Day, but every day, I think of my own father and all that I learned from his gentle and quiet and humble example.  I miss him terribly, even after 11 years.  But he's still with me, all the time and I know how lucky I am to have had him as the greatest example of what a Daddy could be.

It makes me feel good, as I read the card my daughter gave me today.  At the end of the nice card prose, she wrote: "What an example of a father you are-- the best."

Well, I don't know about the best, but I certainly try and I love the job. 

Going to the dogs... and cats, parakeets, gerbils

We do love our pets, that's for sure.

If any proof is needed, just take a look at statistics released last week by Packaged Facts and reported in MediaPost's Marketing Daily.  Even in the worst recession in decades, spending on pet products and services increased 5 percent -- up $2.5 billion last year to total $53 billion.

My household has certainly contributed to that increase.  Some spending last year on Loki, our 9-year old black Lab --

    *  A tooth absess and tooth extraction  ($2,200)

    *  A fractured vertabrae disc, thankfully healed now  ($2,000)

    *  Ongoing skin allergies, requiring vet and alergist and dermatologist treatments  ($1,200)

My Oxford Health Plan doesn't cover Loki, and the IRS won't let me include those medical expenses in my Deductibles.

But that's ok -- Loki is our third child, and he's the only one who hasn't left home after college.  He's always there, happy to see us when we come home, regardless of if we've been away for five minutes or five hours.  He greet us, tail wagging wildly.  (OK, so the wagging tail has claimed a few glasses that it's knocked off the cocktail table.  But it's not like he did it on purpose.)

Pets as kids -- that's a major factor in the strength of the pet market.  "The pet-parent sentiment has never been higher," says the editor of Packaged Facts.  "The human/animal bond is an excellent insulator against recessionary cutbacks."  So strong, in fact, that the publications expects sales of pet products and services to jump another 35 percent by 2014, hitting $72 billion.

Many pet owners, says the report, are unlikely to cut back significantly on pet spending, and in many cases would only do so after cutting back on their own needs.  It's equally true across the economic spectrum.  Pet owners who have cut back in other areas continue to spend on small indulgences for their pets, like biscuits, treats and toys.

Although "restraint" is the word that characterizes how many of us now shop, it doesn't always apply to the 61 million pet-owning households in terms of what they spend on their nearly 400 million pets. 

We hear talk about how the 20-somethings will lead us out of the recession with their spending, but pet owners will be right there with them.

If, like me, you're an animal lover, you might enjoy this blog from The Delta Society, a non-profit group that works "to improve people's health and well-being through positive interactions with animals."

 

Weekend Thoughts ... Spencer's Service Beyond

• I'm starting a new feature here. "Weekend thoughts" will, from time to time, cover random subjects not even closely related to marketing, media or public relations.  And I'll open it to others who might want to share thoughts of any kind (except political) with my 2 cents readers.

My friend and former boss/mentor/business partner Alan Hirsch has a memory like an elephant.  It's not unusual for him to sprinkle into an email names of places or events from our shared past.  He did that yesterday, adding at the end of an email -- "Spencer says hi."

Spencer is a name from 30 or 35 years ago.  Alan and I worked at 630 Fifth Avenue in Rockefeller Center. That's the building, directly across from St. Patrick's Cathedral, that has in front of the entrance the famous statue of Atlas holding the world on his shoulders. (In the opening sequence of the great TV show "30 Rock," they show that statue, even though it's not at 30 Rock.)

Anyway, every single morning as I came to work, I'd be warmly greeted by Spencer as I entered his elevator to go up to my office on the 6th floor.  Spencer was the elevator operator.  The elevators back then in Rock Center were manual, and Spencer always made sure we got to our destination with a smile and some friendly and sincere chatting.

Spencer knew all about me, because he asked.  I don't think I ever knew his last name.

When I first started working there, he would call me Mr. Reich.  I told him it was David.  If I'd be calling him by his first name, he'd call me by mine as well.  So it became "Good morning, David" or "How was your trip in today, with all that snow, David?"

I never asked (not that I would have), but if Spencer saw I was with someone else, it went back to "Yessir, Mr. Reich."  He knew how to play the game, to help make his "customers" feel important.

Spencer once took me up to the top floor of his elevator bank, which led to the private roof gardens atop the 12th-floor setback of the building.  He wasn't supposed to, but he let me go up there sometimes on nice days, to take a quiet lunch break or impress a friend with the spectacular view up and down Fifth Avenue and the birds-eye look across to St. Pat's.

Spencer was a real part of my day in Rockefeller Center, and I'm sure a thousand other people in the building could have said the same.  And I'd be willing to bet that Spencer knew the names of almost every one of those thousand people.

I remember the day when I came into work and there were signs discreetly posted in the lobby.  The elevators were being upgraded with a computerized system that would "expedite the flow" to ensure faster service.  It also meant that dozens of elevator operators, including Spencer, would be losing their jobs.

The truth is, the new elevators were a bit faster, with less waiting time.  The spruced-up interior of the cabs looked beautiful, but something irreplaceable was missing...

The personalized touch -- the human touch -- of people like Spencer.  I can still remember that short, balding black man, with the big beautiful and genuine smile, looking so crisp and elegant in the brown uniform. 

Modernization.  Efficiency.  Cost-cutting.  They're good and they're important in business.  But we sometimes lose track of the cost of those changes -- the cost of the loss of personal service.  Something to think about this weekend.

.......

(My friend Jeanne Byington writes about personal service at The Importance of Earnest Service.  Check it out.)