We were getting close to his saying yes. And then just as a lark I threw him—because I’ve always thought about it in my own life—what if I’d done the complete opposite? Would I have been better off? I could tell he took a shine to it right away. He said, “All right, start working on that.”
Jeff Greenfield, the author, Emmy-winning journalist, and political observer who once worked for Robert F. Kennedy, also sees the connection.
Greenfield notes that while Trump is “boorish, vulgar, crude, seriously misogynist, [and] nativist,” his supporters say, “‘that proves he’s not politically correct and tells it like it is.’” He adds:
And when he’s revealed to be profoundly ignorant of the most basic public policy facts, his defenders respond, “Well, look what the experts have given us.”
Or when presented with facts . . . about his business failures, or his hypocrisies on sourcing, etc., etc., it engenders the response of: “Anything bad the media say about Trump is a lie, because the media always lies.”
Of course, in the world of television, Costanza’s strategy resulted in a happy ending. He got the girl and the job. So will Trump get his happy ending? “I have my doubts,” Cowan said.
The big opposite this year is the opposite sex who could finally be represented in the Oval Office. Three years ago, Trump said, “I think Hillary’s doing a good job.” Now it’s, “She’s the worst secretary of state in history,” the opposite. He donated money to her in the past. Maybe he decided this time that acting like the opposite of sane will give her even more than money—the White House.
Which begs the question: When Hillary and Bill dance at the Inaugural Ball, who leads?
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
AFTERWORD
On election night 2016, I sat down at 7 P.M. as a CNN panelist in a group to be moderated by Anderson Cooper. I was scheduled to get out of the chair at 1 A.M. but when they came to replace me, I said I didn’t want to leave until it was over. I ended up staying until 4 A.M. because the night’s proceedings were so topsy-turvy. That night, CNN had the largest cable audience of any cable program in history—13 million were watching us.
Corey Lewandowski, Trump’s first campaign manager, arrived on the CNN set at about 3 A.M., which was at a point where we knew his candidate had won. When asked on camera how he felt now that his candidate was victorious, Lewandowski was more dour than you’d expect. He looked at me and noted that many had ridiculed his candidate, one going so far as to compare him to George Costanza, a reference to this column and a similar commentary I’d delivered on CNN. Then, the following week, he gave a speech in England at the Oxford Union. Early in his remarks, he repeated the Costanza affront, this time citing me by name as its originator. There’s no way he could have known, but one of my sons was then an Oxford student. So, the world being flat, word reached me before Lewandowsky even got to his Q and A. Maybe the reason he’s so sensitive is that my Seinfeld analogy was so prescient. What he mistook was the tone and intent with which I wrote this column. Connecting Trump’s campaign with the personality of George Costanza was my observation of Trump’s never-before-seen strategy in American politics. But clearly the joke was missed by Lewandowski, who used what I’d written as ammo in his continuing attack on the media.
A MUST IN LIFE:
TRY, TRY AGAIN
Philadelphia Inquirer, Sunday, May 22, 2016
WHEN WIDENER UNIVERSITY honors me this weekend by allowing me to be its commencement speaker, I will share with the students the reaction at our dinner table several months ago when the invitation arrived.
“Dad, the students must be bummed,” was the response from our eldest son, himself in college.
His dismissal became a source of motivation. How to achieve my objective, I wasn’t so sure. My thought process included reviewing well-received commencement addresses. Only I’m not Bono, Bill Gates, or Ali G. I’m not particularly funny. I try not to be verbose. And I don’t live life by any particular quote.
I can report that being invited to deliver a commencement address demands introspection, an evaluation of one’s life. In my case, there’s more to be learned from the journey than the destinations I have reached. I know that sounds like a slogan plucked from one of those posters you order in the back of an airline magazine, but it’s been the pattern of my entire life. Perseverance has been the hallmark of “My Climb,” which became the working title of my speech.
I will begin by explaining that I’d attended the law school of my dreams (Penn) only because, after being wait-listed, I disregarded the application brochure admonition that interviews were not given and parked myself in the admissions office until I attracted the interest of the dean. And that, while if you looked at my progression as a radio host on a graph it makes perfect sense (guest, then guest-host, Sunday night host, Saturday and Sunday morning host, afternoon host, morning-drive host, syndicated host, SiriusXM radio host), that doesn’t tell the story of rejection and opportunities lost.
Like how for five years I was not only hosting a successful morning-drive program in Philadelphia, but also guest-hosting for Bill O’Reilly on 500 stations across the nation. I thought I was paying my dues.
But when O’Reilly decided to give up radio, his syndicator, Westwood One, didn’t hire me. It said it wanted a “name” so instead hired a former actor (think Hunt for Red October) and U.S. senator named Fred Thompson.
I will share that MSNBC had me fill in for Joe Scarborough when he had a 10 P.M. program. Many nights I’d guest-host his show until 11 P.M. in Secaucus, New Jersey, then sleep in the back of a Town Car back to Philadelphia, only to get up at 4 A.M. to host my own morning radio show. Suddenly, Don Imus, the MSNBC morning man, was fired for an inappropriate comment. Quickly, they put me in his seat. I was given a weeklong tryout on live television. Funny thing, they ultimately gave the Imus show to Scarborough. Worse, I wasn’t offered the Scarborough time slot either!
Delivering the commencement address in a downpour at Widener University on May 21, 2016. Photo courtesy of Widener University.
Soon came the 2008 presidential campaign. MSNBC launched a daily program called Race for the White House. It named David Gregory the host. I became a regular guest. So, too, did an Air America radio host named Rachel Maddow and Jay Carney, the Washington bureau chief for Time magazine. We appeared together daily.
When the campaign ended with President Barack Obama’s election, Gregory was asked to host Meet the Press. Maddow was given her own show in prime time. Carney was named director of communications for Vice President Biden and later became press secretary for Obama.
Me? I was the only one not to get a new job. Instead I received more fill-in work. This time for Chris Matthews on MSNBC’s Hardball. Whenever Matthews vacationed, I was in his chair. Just as I had done for O’Reilly and Scarborough, and by now for Glenn Beck too, on HLN. My ratings were strong. For five years, I was Matthews’s go-to person. And, of course, I really wanted a show of my own.
The president of MSNBC, Phil Griffin, used candor that I appreciated even though his words stung. He said that while my fill-in work was appreciated by the network, I would never have a show of my own there.
“Smerc,” he said, “we are young, liberal, and nerdy, and you are none of the above.”
By now, my wife and I had four children. The older you get, the more difficult it becomes to take risks. I second-guessed the choices I’d been making and wondered: Had I sacrificed a stable and secure career path in the law to stroke my ego in the media?
I have Jeff Zucker, the president of CNN, to thank for a big break. In the middle of an ice storm 2½ years ago, he invited me to meet with him on short notice. How to get there was an issue.
Our eldest son was then a senior in high school and he drove a Jeep. The only way I could get to New York City was to drive his vehicle. But while that son is a bona fide rocket scientist, he hadn’t screwed the roof on properly, so it leaked, and the interior was filled w
ith ice. I nervously drove up the New Jersey Turnpike sliding in my seat. Luckily, Zucker and I immediately bonded. In a conversation that didn’t last 15 minutes, he offered me a show of my own on CNN. I celebrated, slipping all the way back to Philadelphia.
Today I’m pleased to host both a radio program heard nationwide on SiriusXM and a television show on CNN that bears my name, in addition to writing this column, which is routinely reprinted in newspapers across the country. But better than the wins has been the navigation of the path—steering around roadblocks and overcoming rejection.
I will tell the Widener graduates that while we all know people to whom things have come effortlessly, that hasn’t been my experience nor can they assume it will be theirs.
My climb has taught me that in order to succeed, you must first ask for the order.
You’ll need to request the meeting.
So be prepared to introduce yourself.
To write the e-mail.
Better yet—sign the letter.
Make the phone call.
Show up where not invited.
And find a mentor. People like to be asked for assistance.
Your level of success in life will be determined by your unwillingness to accept rejection and failure.
Then I will thank them, and say I hope they weren’t bummed.
AFTERWORD
When Widener University’s 2016 Commencement exercises began, I was standing alongside the university’s president, Dr. Julie E. Wollman, as we processed under threatening skies. The more than 800 undergraduates receiving diplomas and their families all sat exposed to the elements, while the school leadership, including me, were shielded under a temporary stage. Just before my speech, the skies opened and the rain began to pour. I asked Dr. Wollman whether I should deliver my remarks as intended or give a significantly abbreviated version. We agreed that I would deliver the full speech. And the only time I remember receiving any applause from the students is the moment I waved off a school employee who approached me with an umbrella. It was a great honor to speak, but I wonder whether I should have used the CliffsNotes version because of the weather.
For space reasons, this column does not contain my complete address. There were other stories of rejection that I included in the full version, including this:
Fresh out of law school, my brother and I formed a title insurance agency, and we initially floundered. Business was slow, and our debts quickly accumulated.
One day I read in the Philadelphia Business Journal that a large Center City apartment building called the Wanamaker House was to sell its units as condominiums. That represented an enormous piece of potential business—333 separate real estate transactions on which we could collect a fee—if only I could win over the project’s developers.
Trouble was, I didn’t know the name of any of these New York–based partners. Their identities were not in the story—only their company was referenced.
Now, keep in mind, this was pre-Internet. No Google. The only tool at my disposal was a phone book and landline telephone, and this was the age of secretaries acting as gatekeepers. When I called the business office, the receptionist refused to release the identity of the principals. You’d be right to question the ethics of what I did next.
I waited, and called again. This time I said that I was with Federal Express, had a package that needed to be delivered to the president of the company, but that the name and address were smudged on the envelope.
“Oh,” she said, “that must be for Allen Weinstein. He’s our president.” And she gave me his address. I now had a name. I wrote to him. Met him. Told him how I got to him—which he appreciated! Won his business. Saved ours.
I delivered the full speech on radio the Monday after the Saturday commencement, and the Allen Weinstein story caused a listener to call in and tell me he thought that I had given the graduates bad ethical advice. It made me wonder what had happened to Allen Weinstein, and the more I thought about it, the more I also wondered what he would think of the fact that I told that story to a group of college graduates at their commencement. So, after 25 years of no contact, I tracked him down and was pleasantly surprised to learn that Allen has himself written a book called Memoirs of a Learning Disabled, Dyslexic Multi-millionaire (2015). Anyone who reads his book, which I highly recommend, will understand why Allen appreciated the initiative I used to meet him, and why he thought it was an appropriate story for a commencement speech. After all, it was almost straight out of his book, which contains his tips for life, and we are kindred spirits in many respects.
MY HEIMLICH MANEUVERING
Philadelphia Inquirer, Sunday, June 5, 2016
HENRY HEIMLICH used the lifesaving technique that bears his name to rescue a fellow senior last month. Depending upon whether you believe some of the current press accounts or his Wikipedia page, it was either the first or second time the 96-year-old surgeon was thus called to action. The event occurred in a Cincinnati assisted-living home, where Dr. Heimlich saved 87-year-old Patty Ris. “God put me in this seat next to you,” she wrote him in a thank-you note.
That’s quite a storybook ending, but the saga reminded me of my own close encounter with the good doctor.
In 1993, I left a federal position to which I’d been appointed by the administration of George H. W. Bush to join the legendary James E. Beasley in the practice of trial law. Our introduction came when I sought his legal advice after Inquirer columnist Steve Lopez wrote about me, questioning whether I’d ever “find honest work.” I thought he was calling me dishonest, and contacted Beasley, who’d earned quite a reputation handling defamation actions. Beasley said he’d take the case—and he also hired me. (No lawsuit was ever filed, though. Months after I’d joined him in practice, Beasley said to me: “You walk down the street thinking about that column. Nobody else does.”)
One day soon after my arrival at the firm, he handed me a case.
The matter concerned a Philadelphia man who’d choked to death at an all-you-can-eat buffet in the city. Beasley had accepted the case more to create case law than to earn any fee. His success had enabled him that type of case selection.
Beasley was angered that a restaurant employee who witnessed the death was reportedly not permitted by a manager to perform the Heimlich maneuver. Beasley wanted to establish a duty on Pennsylvania restaurants—similar to one in New York—to perform the maneuver. But when the restaurant owner turned out to be a Florida corporation and the case was moved to federal court (where no state law could be created), Beasley lost his appetite for the file and handed it to the new guy.
This case about a man’s tragic passing in a public place had more than its share of characters and drama and was my initiation into the practice of law. I struggled to find the critical witness—the cashier—but local celebrity sleuth Russell Kolins did—in prison. My concerns about her credibility were offset by the discovery that she was CPR-trained and carried a certification (including Heimlich) in her wallet.
There was also the fact that the decedent had been eating corned beef in the men’s room, apparently so as not to be seen by his dining partner, a girlfriend who was vigilant about his weight. The mention of her presence didn’t sit well with his adult children. Neither did my reluctance to assert a lost earnings claim for their father’s estate, as his business had been under federal investigation at the time of his demise.
To top things off, the District Court was involved in a pilot program experimenting with cameras in the courtroom.
Rookie lawyer or not, I knew that at trial I’d need to introduce one of the ubiquitous posters showing how the Heimlich maneuver is performed. Having tracked one down, I noted that its disclaimer included a reference to the Heimlich Institute and an Ohio telephone number. I called in the hope of obtaining additional materials to explain the method to a jury. I’ll never forget when, after explaining my purpose to the female voice at the end of the line, she replied: “Oh, Dr. Heimlich would be most interested in this.”
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Dr. Heimlich? I was a complete knucklehead. It never occurred to me that the procedure was named for an American physician, much less that he was alive.
Up until this point, the very able Philadelphia defense attorney representing the buffet, James Bodell, had been a gentleman but outwardly dismissive of my case. Now, after the resources of the Beasley firm enabled me to retain Heimlich as a plaintiff’s expert who would explain his method to the jury, his guffaws abated. Heimlich’s expert report was attached to the pretrial memo I filed with Judge Jan E. “Bud” DuBois. When we met in chambers, DuBois informed Bodell and me that Court TV had requested to televise Heimlich’s testimony.
Soon thereafter, the matter resolved. And where Heimlich’s witness fee had been paid but his Philadelphia appearance was not necessary, I was able to cajole him to appear on my radio show, where he explained his discovery of the method in 1974. The audience seemed appreciative of his good work, except for one man who wrote to me challenging the authenticity of Heimlich’s discovery. Strangely, the “skeptic” was his son.
Not long thereafter, I became engaged to my wife. Bodell was kind to write, in jest, and offer a discount on the use of the buffet for our reception. We passed.
AFTERWORD
Soon after this column was published, I was contacted by the aforementioned “skeptic,” Peter Heimlich. I was taken aback when he told me that much of his father’s work was a fraud. Peter (along with his wife, Karen) runs a website called medfraud.info, where lists of hyperlinks to outside sources backing his claims appear under such headings as “Medical experts speak out against my father’s history of misconduct” and “My father’s history of abusing colleagues.”
Online, Peter says his interest in outing his father began in 2001, when, after learning of serious health problems in his family, he was appalled to find that his father was not addressing them. That discovery led to his heightened curiosity and further investigation. As he asserts on his website:
Clowns to the Left of Me, Jokers to the Right Page 36