Political PR: The Branding of a Person

The public relations industry is an umbrella for a myriad of communication specialties. It’s not hard to see why, given that virtually every business can utilize public relations in some way. But PR has never been limited to just businesses. From best-selling authors to movie stars and real estate tycoons, some of the best career moves have been to use strategic PR to create a personal brand. This makes for fascinating case studies in which adding the “Human Element” has the ability to launch a person and as a result their business or their cause. As this year’s political campaigns steadily heat to a boil, some of the most extreme examples of the success and failures of personal branding can be found in the public relations specialty of political PR. From the surface, the strategy and tactics may appear similar, but there are critical components that keep this particular field of communications uniquely challenging.

24/7 Brand Building – As a public relations specialist based in Pennsylvania’s capital region, a large percentage of my firm’s business is driven by politics. That’s not to pigeon-hole our services, but a level of specialty in political PR continues to develop with every year and every election. Working in this industry is not for the faint of heart or the 9-5ers. It’s for those who understand that building a personal brand for a politician occurs 24/7. Once a politician steps out of the office to enjoy an evening or weekend “off,” his personal brand is still very much on. How a candidate spends his time when he’s not obviously campaigning is arguably more important than how he spends his time when he is. A week’s worth of successful fundraisers and rallies filled with shaking hands and kissing babies can all be erased with one gaffe or YouTube clip. For political PR consultants this means these clients keep us on high alert and earn our attention all hours of the day. It also means strategic planning includes after-hour social events. It’s our job to monitor and influence public perception. And while at times this may feel like trying to control the wind, it all comes down to our ability to create an effective sail with which it can be harnessed and directed in our favor.

Being Human AND Being Perfect – A key element in political PR is humanizing your client. This isn’t to say they’re anything but human as is, but when a potential career path of high power and influence lay before you, it’s especially important to remain relatable to voters. To be human is to be flawed, right? So how do you make yourself more human while still remaining flawless? This is where PR specialists prove their worth. Every client you work with will have flaws, but it’s making these flaws work for him that becomes the real challenge. Family issues, questionable decisions and blemishes on a reputation are absolutely human. But, in a political race, these could become the mole hills that voters are made to believe are Mt. Everest. With proactive PR these weaknesses can be positioned as strengths. This is also a valuable opportunity to humanize your client. By having him be the first to address these issues and to do so head on, you disarm a potential scandal and turn a negative into a powerful positive. An ancient DUI charge or rumor of a health issue can all be reasons for a politician to step forward with a cause. This proactive approach adds to his humanity, his political platform and most importantly his personal brand.

Political Snowflakes – Calling political PR a “specialty” is quite accurate as every single client is truly special. While this may sound like a cheesy bumper sticker (and isn’t this type of work filled with enough), it’s deeper than it sounds. As a public relations consultant, every client has a reasonable degree of difference from all the rest. But political PR takes this to a whole new level. Every politician has his own platform, his own personality and his own unique political race that must be taken into account when crafting his PR strategy. No form or template can be used if you’re looking for the most effective results. It’s fitting to see them as political snowflakes. Each of my political clients is an entirely new challenge who warrants his own custom-made strategy. It requires knowing his specific votership, weaknesses, strengths and political platform – all of which are as unique as the person they represent.

There is no question that the political industry is a PR specialty. Even where degrees are offered in such a specific field, nothing can replace the knowledge gained from learning it as you live it. From 30+ year veterans to newly minted political enthusiasts, I don’t know one person who would call this industry simple or predictable. So while it may require a special skill set to handle such volatility – this aspect alone is what also fuels many of us to venture into the uncharted territory of political PR to begin with.

Outside the 2012 Republican National Convention–a mecca for political PR

Inside the 2012 RNC–Tampa Bay Times Forum

Stump Speeches – a staple to every political campaign

 

Panic Does Not Equal Passion

For better or for worse, I seem to be pulled toward career paths that are not for the faint of heart. Just when I caught my breath from a whirlwind statewide gubernatorial election, it took merely 4 short months before I needed that adrenaline rush again. I craved the feeling of having meaningful tasks to keep me so busy that I was racing against the clock, not watching it countdown until quitting time.

After campaign life, where showers and haircuts were a luxury and 5pm wasn’t quitting time – it was merely the half point mark of your day, I swore I was done. Once was enough for me. I earned my badge and can say I did it, but I wasn’t going back. I was ready for a steady 9-5 job where I could make plans with friends and actually keep them. But then the boredom crept in. At first it was a pleasant boredom, the type you’re happy to get used to. But then even my best time-wasting tasks were leaving me with hours of the day unfilled. Slowly but surely I was developing “cubicle fever.” My maximum workload had been pushed to such limits on the campaign, that this has become the only work pace I now know. As much as I craved a normal work schedule, I had been trained to function like a one-person department and there was no going back. It’s like riding a train going 80mph and suddenly falling off and coming to a complete stop. When dropped back into the real world, I could no longer relate. So as many of you who have followed my journey thus far know, I took the leap and created my own Public Relations business as a way to again find that whirlwind work pace that has become my metric for normal.

Almost a year later and I’ve found myself ramped up to campaign speed again. The biggest difference is, this time around I call the shots. I can take unlimited time-off so long as I plan ahead and get my work done or take it with me as I travel (yes, from time to time I still have to call upon my envelope stuffing skills, but you won’t find me doing door-to-door voter polls anytime soon). I’m working now harder than ever, and depending on the week, am even busier than I was the week before Election Day on the campaign; however, I’ve realized one profound truth from these two experiences.

Panic does not equal passion.

On the campaign it was normal for people to be run around like a chicken with their head cut off and there were certainly circumstances that called for panic. But in many cases I believe people would overact with stress and drama as a way to declare their passion for their work. I’m a calm person by nature and I handle stress best internally. This led to one or more occasions on the campaign where my commitment was questioned. But I can assure you – anyone who is NOT committed on a campaign would not last more than a week. It’s a frustrating position to be put in. Do you give in and act panicked just to declare your passion? Or do you do nothing and risk your dedication and hard work being written off as less than your very best? The only answer I’ve been able to form came years later….it was starting my own business where the proof of my passion is my quality of work and my cool head and calm demeanor has become the signature characteristic of Bennis Inc.

I know that the panic vs. passion struggle is not limited to campaign life. I saw it emerging in various forms in my other jobs. Two people can get the same amount of work done in a day even if one leaves at 5pm and the other at 9pm. The late worker shouldn’t be award a medal of honor for staying late if he took a 2 hour lunch and surfed the web for an hour. So much is dependent upon your leadership style and how you react under pressure. In a salaried job and in campaign life, there is no reward for working efficiently – more work is simply piled on. I’m grateful that if I work smarter and get my task list done for the day, I am rewarded with a flexible afternoon or the ability to take on more work and earn more money. But more than anything, I’m grateful that I don’t have to give in to panicking just to prove my passion.

Keep calm and carry on.

 

“In Stitches” (a short story with a big influence)

I can still recall the feeling of the dewy grass between my toes. How it managed to turn my flip flops into slippery ice skates during mid July in Pennsylvania I’ll never quite understand. It was summer break and I couldn’t have been over the age of seven. During this time of year, my mother’s inevitably hectic mornings included yet one more to-do, dropping me off at my care-taker’s. She knew me well enough to know that without fail each morning would result in an excuse, a lie or a threat to get me out of going there. That is why the feeling of grass between my toes still conjures up the tight grasp of my mother’s hand. It was her silent way of tell me that no matter how slow my flip flop ice skates moved, I wasn’t getting out of this; I was going to Aunt Roni’s house.

Every child has that one place they despise going. They drag their feet, kick, scream and hold onto nearby doorways, pleading for their parents’ mercy. For some kids it was the doctor or dentist, perhaps even school or church, but for me, it was my Aunt Roni’s.

Aunt Roni was old. Her house was old. Her toys were old. Her television set was old. But worst of all, her rules were old. Aunt Roni was a neighbor two houses away who although there was no blood relation, my mother insisted I called “Aunt” out of respect. During the summer she was my care-taker while my mother was at work. It was during these impressionable summers that I was subjected to her old fashioned and outdated rules. For example, lunch was served at exactly twelve noon, regardless of what orders my stomach growled hours before. I was only allowed to watch television in thirty minute increments and was then forced to play outside, which most often resulted in me angrily pushing an empty swing or sitting arms crossed, sulking behind a tree. A kid couldn’t even indulge in a whole freeze pop! Instead, I had to watch Aunt Roni cut each popsicle in half and put it back in the freezer for “another day.” All of this aside, the rules that frustrated me, a very hyper and fast-paced child, the most were her rules about sewing.

I should mention that more than just my care-taker, my Aunt Roni doubled as a personal sewing instructor. Whether these sewing lessons were secretly arranged by my mother or just a new form of torture Aunt Roni invented is still unknown to me. In short, sewing wasn’t my bag. Many idle hours on the backyard swing set were spent pondering the reasons why anyone would want to sew. Just cutting a pattern out of fabric took more effort than going to a department store. To this day I’m still fairly certain that Aunt Roni spent those same hours pondering why anyone wouldn’t.

For the age of seven, I was a fairly proficient seamstress and earned many blue ribbons at the 4-H fairs. This particular summer I chose to make a tote bag. Straight lines, no zippers, I thought I had a pretty easy summer lined up. But like most of my fool-proof plans to get out of life easy with Aunt Roni, I was sorely mistaken.
I had spent the better part of June meticulously pinning each side of my tote bag together, hand-sewing on the pocket, and finally I was ready to add the handles. I felt Aunt Roni behind me, studying every stitch, looking for any stray thread or—heaven forbid—a sloppy seam. Just as I usually did in this position, I began to panic. With superhuman strength, my foot laid on the sewing machine pedal. The motor hummed with more horse power than most legal street cars, jumping to 40 beats per second, my heart rate not far behind. I jerked back, taking my bag with me, pulling it right under the hungry machine that chewed up the fabric and spit it out. In a crumpled heap, my bag and I laid on the floor, my emotions matching its appearance. As I was surveying the damage, I remembered Aunt Roni had seen it all.

She knew I had been too fast, too hasty with my work and this was the result. Without an ounce of apathy, she told me to tear out every stitch that ran through the center of my bag—by hand. If there was one thing I hated even more than putting the stitches in, it was ripping those same stitches out. I hung my head, thinking of what I would be doing for the next several hours. Aunt Roni looked at me and said, “For every stitch you tear out, you learn something new.” I can tell you that during that afternoon of intense seam-ripping, the only thing I learned was how much anger and frustration a seven year old could feel.

Throughout my childhood summers spent at Aunt Roni’s, I ripped out more stitches than I probably ever kept. It goes without saying that I learned a lot. I learned patience, respect and discipline. I learned that even the most daunting tasks can be made simple if you break them down. Nearly 16 years later, I have managed to make quite a few mistakes. But when the time comes to put aside my pride and rip out the stitches I’ve sewn, I know I’ll walk away with a life lesson and an even deeper love for my Aunt Roni.

Aunt Roni and me August 2010.

 This short story is dedicated to my dear Aunt Roni who over the course of our summers together became more than a care-taker. She became my grandmother and my guardian. She came into my life when I was just an infant and showered me with the tender and unconditional love you can only receive from someone who is placed in your life by God. I owe so much of who I am to those summers spent with my Aunt Roni. I can only wish to someday be this special and influential to someone else.

 

Making Time to Live

Before I officially took off the training wheels and launched Bennis Public Relations, Inc nearly two months ago, I found my mind often fantasizing about the free and flexible time I might have as my own boss. I could make weekly trips to the farmer’s market, eat lunch on a park bench by the river and become a regular at the city library. I could use the free WiFi from a trendy café and sip lattes while I clicked away on my laptop or take an afternoon cat nap after watching the Price is Right. While some of these visions were both dramatic and unnecessary, I’m disappointed to admit that two months later, my “new boss” hasn’t allowed me much more free time to pursue life’s little slices of happiness to exist all around me.

Harrisburg's McCormick River Front Library

I can’t blame this on my boss, or maybe I can since I am my boss, but in either case I’ve decided to take the opportunity to close my laptop more often and step out into the bustling and beautiful world that exists whether I make time for it or not.

The week before my North Carolina vacation I realized I needed some new beach reading materials and so I stepped inside the Dauphin County Library for the first time since I moved to Harrisburg in December of 2009. While I’m now a proud owner of a shiny red library card, I can’t help but feel a pang of regret for not having done this sooner. The library isn’t big, it’s just one of several branches that the county manages, but it still evoked the same rush of excitement that I felt as a child eying up the rows and rows of colorful treasurers—all for my taking. And so I limited myself to just 5 books which I never read or heard of before but will know intimately, page by page, in just a few weeks.

Now that I’ve experienced the joys (and sorrows) of being a functioning, taxpaying, member of society, I feel that it is my civil duty to make use of all of the free resources this affords me. The County Library is just one. I’ve started a list of all of the other things this area has to offer that I’ve never made time to take advantage of before. So here’s the bucket-list-in-progress that I hope to get through before 2012:

• Buy my fresh produce from the Farm Show Complex’s Farmer’s Market
• Complete the ropes course at Ski Roundtop
• Visit a corn maze, pick pumpkins and drink apple cider
• Kayak the Susquehanna
• Visit the Renaissance Festival
• Ice Skate
• Go to a Haunted House Tour
• Read a book by the river
• And more to come…

If you have any suggestions for fun things to do in Central PA or even just in the autumn season—I’m interested!