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The Art of Perception
Memoirs of a Line in PR
By Robert Leaf Grove Atlantic Ltd
Copyright © 2012 Robert Leaf
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-85789-959-0
CHAPTER 1
How I Got Started
Years before I joined Burson–Marsteller and later established offices throughout the world, I learned how important it is was to understand that people in different countries can differ dramatically in their attitudes and reactions to everyday events and situations. What we communicate and how we communicate has to be adjusted similarly if we are to be effective.
In 1955, I was serving as an information and education specialist in the US Army, stationed in Orléans, France. My responsibilities included giving a weekly lecture to the troops, based on Department of the Army pamphlets, covering subjects important to these peacetime troops, including how to behave while on leave abroad. These lectures were supposed to reflect the various different cultural attitudes influencing the natives' perception of our soldiers and their presence in these countries.
I explained that when on leave in France the men should always wear civilian clothes, never a military uniform. Having a history of military invasions, the average Frenchman did not like the sight of foreign uniforms, even those belonging to allies. This advice was especially important for any soldiers hoping to meet up with local women. I told them that if they tried to pick up a girl in a bar while in uniform, it could lead to a brawl.
On the other hand, attitudes were very different in Germany. I strongly advised the men to wear their uniforms while on leave there, one that was spit and polished. This was ten years after the end of the Second World War, and the German people still had a great respect for discipline and authority; in this part of the world, a well-uniformed soldier would earn respect instantly.
And then there was England, a place I had not yet visited but where I was destined to live for more than forty years. The British, according to the information I was given to tell the troops, were a very private people by nature, particularly with strangers. I told the soldiers that they should seriously avoid any discussions about politics, religion and – especially – sex by all means. When I finally set foot in London for the first time and decided to visit the pubs for which the country was famous, I found that the army's official word was dead wrong. I engaged in all sorts of interesting discussions with the locals on politics – and sex, too. Upon returning to base I seriously modified my lecture, except when I was being observed and graded by a senior officer. In those cases, I would keep to the official line when dealing with the British.
It was 1948, and it was time for me to attend a university. I selected the University of Missouri. At the time, Missouri housed the most important Journalism school in the US. The J–School had been founded in 1903, making it the world's first Journalism school. Joseph Pulitzer, the newspaper baron best known for the Pulitzer Prize that he later founded, was involved in its establishment. At the time, it was the only school that granted a Bachelor of Journalism degree.
I initially thought that I would like to build myself a career as a journalist, probably as a sports writer. Then I decided that I should be a creative writer, and later still an advertising executive, as that business needed people with writing skills, which I thought I possessed. But after my first few years in school taking general studies, I changed my mind. I decided that I would pursue a degree in Journalism after all but would major in Public Relations, a field still in its relative infancy. The reason was simply that I found the Public Relations courses particularly interesting because they underlined the importance of developing the right messages and presenting them in the best possible manner to any audience, whether a government or political party, a business or association.
I did not know a great deal about public relations back then. I thought its primary role was to get individuals, companies or ideas better known. In some cases it was linked to advertising, but advertising was already a major industry, while PR was still a small business. Even in my PR coursework, the emphasis was on how to ascertain what would be of news value, and to write about it in a way that would make it appealing to the media.
When I finished my bachelor's degree in 1952, the Korean War was still on. Since I was registered as 1-A by the draft board, it meant that I would be inducted into the US Army immediately upon graduation. But since I felt, at 6'3", that I was too big a target for the Korean sharpshooters, I decided it was best to remain in school and go for a Master's degree, a pursuit that would allow me to postpone my induction until I had finished my studies.
Since I now had a degree in Journalism, I decided that I didn't need a Master's in the same subject and switched to History, focusing on the period from 1871 to 1945. I believed that knowing the history of this modern period would be beneficial no matter what I eventually decided to do. I found world history so interesting that I even began to toy with the idea that upon leaving the army I might become an academic.
Switching to History turned out to be a smart move. Later, I was engaged in public relations in many different countries around the world and I found that being knowledgeable about a country's history – sometimes more so than many of the locals with whom I was working – I was able to gain a much greater degree of acceptance in the local marketplace. People saw that I had a personal interest in their country.
To obtain my degree, it was necessary to write a thesis. The choice of subject was the student's, unless his professor felt that the topic was already covered in too great detail already. I chose to write my thesis on Father Charles Coughlin, one of the most controversial priests in American history. He started as a very left-leaning prelate, attacking the financial community as a major precipitator of the Great Depression. At that time, he was a great supporter of President Roosevelt, even stating at a congressional hearing that 'God is directing President Roosevelt.'
Father Coughlin started a magazine and even had his own radio programme. Known as the 'Radio Priest', he became one of the most famous people in the United States. At the peak of his popularity, he received 80,000 letters a week – second only to the president – and one third of the American public listened to his radio show.
Inexplicably, he began to embrace extreme right-wing political positions, even talking favourably at times of Hitler and Mussolini. When the Second World War began, his magazine was banned from being shipped around by mail. It was ruled that, while freedom of speech allowed him to say anything he desired, the American postal service was not required to deliver any post it felt was detrimental to the country's interests. His radio programme was then outlawed and, finally, the Archbishop of Detroit and head of Coughlin's diocese, the Most Reverend Edward Mooney, told him to end all involvement in politics or risk defrocking – he chose the former option. When I wrote to him to request an interview so that I could accurately portray his thinking, he replied that he was not permitted to give interviews. This study of Father Coughlin proved to be of great value to me in my career. It showed me the power of both the print and broadcast media and how one man could dramatically change the perceptions of thousands.
As I leisurely worked on my thesis, I received a number of letters from the Department of the Army asking when it would be completed, so that I could be inducted into the US Army. I kept replying that I was working on it steadily but couldn't give a definite date. Finally, they decided that my academic career had been going on long enough and I was notified that I should report for induction in New York a week later.
This turn of events meant I had to get my final draft to my professor for grading before I left for the service. Instead of hiring a professional secretary to type it up – which was what most graduate students did – I typed it up myself. Not being the world's greatest typist, I made more than a few errors. I had no choice but to send it, errors and all, to my professor. Then I headed back to New York to let my mother know there was now going to be a soldier in the family.
Soon after my induction, I got a letter from my professor with my grade and some comments. He wrote that as far as style was concerned, this was the worst paper he had ever received. But because he thought so highly of the content, he was giving me an 'A' overall.
It could not have come at a better time. I was going through the least enjoyable part of basic training: cleaning rifles, washing dishes, guard duty all night. I was also learning that answering: 'Yes sir! Yes sir!' with enthusiasm was key to surviving. My professor's letter made me feel more like a general than a private.
While I was not looking forward to a two-year hitch in the military, I honestly believed that it was a national necessity. During my last year at university, while I was still working on my thesis, I was interviewed by an officer in the Central Intelligence Agency at the recommendation of the Dean. He wanted me to consider going to Officer Candidate School upon graduation, thus becoming a Lieutenant. He explained to me that as a Lieutenant I could lead an exciting and glamorous life. He went so far as to explain that if the war was still on, I might be dropped behind enemy lines in a black parachute, possibly becoming a national hero in the process.
I thanked him kindly and said I would give it very careful consideration. It didn't take long for me to decide I'd be better off going in as a private and avoiding anything that looked like a parachute, regardless of colour, especially while the war was on.
Upon induction, I was sent to Fort Dix, New Jersey. In the army, everyone was assigned a 'Military Occupation Specialty' (MOS) and, because of my academic background, I was made a clerk typist, making it probable that I would land an office job.
After finishing my basic training – quite a change from life on the Missouri campus – I was sent to Fort Eustis, Virginia. After a few months, a very friendly major who was my commanding officer asked if I would like to go to a special training school in New York so that my MOS could be changed to 'information and education specialist'. Then, I could give weekly talks to the unit on a variety of topics and also work on a unit magazine. I, of course, agreed and spent a very relaxing month in New York City learning how to be a government PR man.
Then came the break that patterned my future career. Even though the war was now over, every American base had to supply a number of soldiers to be sent overseas. Divisions were sent lists of the MOS's that were needed and the commanding officer of each division would select which soldiers with the requested MOS's would be chosen to go abroad. Fortunately for me, the man who picked which divisions would be assigned which MOS's was a staff sergeant who was a good friend of mine and a fellow poker player.
During our weekend poker games I had won a good deal of money from the sergeant. He didn't want his wife to know, so I told him to pay me whenever he wanted with any amount he wanted. In appreciation, he came to me and said there was a need for an information and education specialist in Europe. I was the only soldier with that MOS in my division and, should he select me, the major would have to send me abroad. 'Would you like to do this?' he asked.
I sure did. I immediately asked him to go ahead. I was excited by the prospect of visiting countries I had studied, whose history I knew despite having never set foot there. My luck didn't end there – it was just the beginning. The sergeant was familiar with the ship that would be transporting me. When you were shipped overseas the voyage usually took six to seven days. You were assigned a job, and you had to perform it for the duration of the entire trip, whether it was kitchen police, guard duty or cleaning decks. The best assignment was to be one of the chaplain's assistants, and it so happened that the sergeant knew the ship's chaplain and arranged for me to meet him. After he interviewed me, I became his assistant, and my main role was to help run the religious services and even play the organ at these services. Since playing an organ was not one of my great skills, I asked the chaplain if he had any other assignments. Fortunately, the chaplain was also in charge of the ship's daily newspaper, and because of my degree in Journalism he changed my role to editor of the ship's paper.
When we arrived in Germany my luck continued. When we got off the boat we had to join one of a number of lines where we were to be interviewed and then assigned a location in Europe, typically for our entire time abroad. Fortunately one of the people giving out assignments was a soldier I had become friendly with at Fort Dix. I joined his line, and he asked what I would prefer. The choice wasn't difficult. I could either go to one of several forts in Germany where most of the time was spent out in the field, or go to headquarters in France, a beautiful new base in Orléans in the Loire Valley, where they needed an information and education specialist.
No contest. I happily went off to Orléans where the commanding officer assigned me to an orderly room where I acted as a secretary, opening all the mail, directing letters to the right people, answering the phone, taking messages and basically doing anything the major asked me to. My main two jobs, though, were giving weekly lectures to all the troops, and giving out weekend passes and leave certificates ... and carefully making sure that there was always a weekend pass for Robert S. Leaf.
And the breaks continued. Among my room-mates was an artist, Bill Kohn, who had studied at Washington University in Missouri and had won five scholarships – the last one granting him the freedom to go and paint anywhere in the world. He chose Paris and was there for more than a year. Later, when he was drafted by the army, he ended up back in France.
We spent nearly every other weekend in Paris and Bill was the best guide to the city that I could ever have. We lived with the artists and students he had met during his scholarship year. They shepherded us around the churches, museums and other key points of interest, and I developed an appreciation of the Paris that Ernest Hemingway had described in his writings.
My lectures, meanwhile, consisted mainly of aspects of American history, the military and its operations, and world organizations such as the UN and NATO. Other more memorable topics included 'The best way to avoid venereal disease' and 'The advantages of reenlisting'.
I never would have imagined that I would really enjoy my army career. I had only had one unhappy moment during the entire time I was stationed in Orléans and it concerned a photograph I failed to take. In April 1956, the beautiful American actress Grace Kelly married Prince Rainier of Monaco. Though I was stationed close by, somehow they had forgotten to invite me ... but I wasn't going to let that stop me. I took some leave and went to Monaco on my own, hoping to get close to the action. The tiny country was lit up like a dream-world, especially the harbour. The night before the wedding, there was a spectacular fireworks display that was probably unequalled anywhere at that time. I felt like I was in a magical kingdom.
On the day of the wedding only one reporter was allowed to attend the ceremonies in the Cathedral of Saint Nicholas. The rest of the press were assigned to a room nearby where they could watch the ceremony on television. I decided I would try to get into the press room so that I could also watch what I knew would be a memorable event. When security challenged me and told me to leave I pretended that I couldn't speak English, French or German and didn't understand a word of what they were saying. So they decided I must be a reporter from some other foreign country and let me stay to watch what was a truly exciting event. I remember Prince Rainier was a little nervous and had trouble putting the ring on his bride's finger, so Grace helped him.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Art of Perception by Robert Leaf. Copyright © 2012 Robert Leaf. Excerpted by permission of Grove Atlantic Ltd.
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