THEN: Secretary of State (KY), 1996-2004; Candidate for Lieutenant Governor, 2007
NOW: JYB3 Group (Owner) -public affairs consulting firm; Miller Wells law firm (Of counsel)
Full Biography:link
By John Y. Brown III, on Sun Jun 24, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
A shocking antidote to a shocking bullying episode.
Karen Klein, the 68-year-old school bus monitor from suburban Rochester, N.Y. was the victim of a horrific bullying episode caught on tape in a video now gone viral. She is the quintessential grandmother –and a genuinely kind hearted and caring woman.
She’s received an outpouring of support, well wishes, and donations.
Southwest Airlines offered her a 3 days all-expenses paid trip to Disney with her choice of 9 guests.
I think Karen Klein should invite her family and the kids who bullied her on this trip and their families–with the condition that the trip be covered by a Reality TV crew and the bullying teens and their families have to spend the entire time with Karen Klein and her family. Obviously, there will be lots of discussion and reflection on why the bullying occurred and, hopefully, heartfelt apologies and perhaps a friendship and respect for the bullying victim who will obviously be viewed as the hero in this awful episode.
It is a seemingly crazy idea, but one I think could work. Really. Karen Klein is an extraordinarily wise and patient woman who could pull this off successfully. And turn the most momentous national teaching moment about the cruelty of bullying into what could be the most significant teaching moment ever about exposing the cowardly forces that create bullying and the resolution between the bullied and the bullies that humiliate the bullies –and discourage future bullying episodes by those who watch.
It would not be a reward by any means. It would be the most humiliating and possibly most important 3 days of the bully’s lives. And for the lives of many future bullies who watch. The gift these teen bullies would be receiving would not be 3 days in Disney. But an opportunity to redefine themselves as decent human beings who could take on the cause of denouncing bullying by others like them. Nothing would speak to discouraging future bullies than former bullies who have seen the light. Not even 68 year old grandmother victims, unless they turn the tables in a manner such as this. It may just work.
And, of course, this has to be Karen Klien’s decision, and I don’t want her pressured into doing something she doesn’t want. She’s endured enough already. But if the following petition helps get the idea in front of her to consider, and she agrees it is something she wants to do and believes would be valuable, I’d love to help provide our encouragement
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Jun 22, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Facebook will slowly undermine the effectiveness of negative political advertising.
Oh, you think I jest?
Seriously, I believe there’s a connection–and that over time Facebook will slowly erode the shock impact—and therefore the political and electoral impact that political campaigns have relied on for decades by using political attack ads to help defeat opponents.
Really. I do.
Why?
Not because people will be on Facebook instead of watching political ads on TV or because the ads will somehow run on Facebook or that voters will start getting political information on Facebook—none of that. Rather, I think Facebook is facilitating an overdue cultural correction in America. Namely, making us less prudish, secretive and judgmental (of ourselves and others).
Remember Mrs Crabtree from Bewitched? The nosy neighbor always shocked at any behavior she’d spy that wasn’t befitting a model 1950s imaginary TV family? We voters have been a little like that the past 40 years–even though we would hate the think of ourselves as “Nosy Neighbor Voters” (to make up a new voting block moniker, like “Soccer Moms.”)
But I think it’s true. Don’t you–at least to some extent?
A good deal has been written about how Facebook encourages narcissism. Perhaps a little. But not nearly as much as it has fostered more open and honest sharing about how we daily think and act in all too human ways.
I mean, think about it. What would Mrs. Crabtree share about herself on Facebook? A recipe or two?
Facebook. Facilitating, one "like" at a time, the end of an era. What's on your mind, Mrs Crabtree? It's OK, we won't tell the neighbors.
Maybe over time she’d chill out and admit she’s a voyeur and getting help with weekly therapy and medication. For now, though, the Mrs. Crabtrees of the world are simply watching what others write on Facebook and telling others who increasingly couldn’t care less. And although there are all sorts of personal abuses and overshares on Facebook, in the end, Mrs. Crabtree will lose.
And when the minor faults of political candidates are overtaking the airwaves again a few years hence, instead of acting “Shocked. Shocked!” We’ll be more likely to shrug and say, “Yeah, that actually happened to me a couple of years ago. Not a big deal. In fact, I posted on Facebook yesterday about how glad I was to have that behind me.”
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Jun 21, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Now there’s a summer blockbuster!!
On vacation this week I’ve seen 3 movies.
Dictator, That’s My Boy, and Think Like a Man (a topic stretched to nearly 2 hours that could have easily been handled in less than 2 minutes)
There were fresh and hilarious lines in all 3 movies–but probably only enough for one really good movie.
So….I guess what I’m saying is I wish someone had combined the three movies and made one really good movie about a short-sighted, shallow and cadish guy who as a teenager has a son out of wedlock (with his hot high school teacher) and after becoming a dictator in a Middle Eastern country works to resolve that relationship by getting drunk and going to strip joints with his formerly estranged son.
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Jun 20, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Got Clout? I mean the other kind–with a “K”
I’m fascinated with analytics.
Not in how they work. I don’t really understand that.
But how they can be used as a tool for better assessment and prediction purposes. And, of course, better decision making.
But analytics may be the new statistics–in the sense of being a mysterious new numbers logic that because of its air of inaccessibility to lay people carries with it an air of irrefutably.
It won’t be long until some says “There are 4 kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, statistics, and analytics.”
OK. I guess technically speaking someone just did…but that’s beside the point.
My recent questioning of exuberant uses of analytic tools is with the website Klout. I’m sure they are on to something…but have a long way to go. True, you must find a way to measure something to fully understand it. But some things are more amendable to metrics than human relationships. Workflow processes, controlling inventory and related business tasks come to mind. How trustworthy, reliable, persuasive, likeable, etc a person is within a functional network is much harder to measure with numbers.
It’s still worth a try….but we have to realize the results are more of a fun sideshow compared to more serious analytics work.
I see it like the difference between standing on a scale for weight data versus putting on a mood ring to measure my “mood.” Sure, it’s something…but not enough to bother too much with. Otherwise eHarmony and other such metric driven dating sites would be called “marriage tools” instead of a dating tool. They may help recommend a first date…but don’t base an important decision on it.
Analytics are incredibly useful where they are truly applicable.
And by the way, Klout has so far helped me in only two measurable, concrete outcomes. It caused me to waste several hours trying to understand the new vanity meansure. And it’s provided a topic for this Facebook status update. A really useful analytics tool would have predicted that outcome in advance and saved me the trouble. ; )
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Jun 19, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
What we do is only what we do. Not who we are. (Or why lawyers shouldn’t commit suicide)
As my teen kids get older I encourage them to find “their people”–the groups where they feel they belong and are most at home with. Their tribe, so …to speak. For me, one of the first such groups I found this kinship with was lawyers. I’m one myself, though non-practicing. I found that my interests, ways of thinking, sense of humor, social concerns and life aspirations lined up well with other lawyers–more so than say engineers, accountants, or medical professionals.
Lawyers are a quirky bunch. I joked the other day that one appeal of the profession is that it allows an individual to take his or her collective character defects and bill for them. It’s an exacting, hyper-competitive and idealized profession where each day you start off feeling like Perry Mason but finish the day feeling more like Melville’s Bartleby the Scrivener. And so it’s not a shock that attorney’s, as a group, suffer a notably higher than average rate of depression, addiction and suicide. It’s a profession that is both analytical and philosophical. Lawyers are trained to think more and feel less. And many eventually find themselves, on their bad days, on an intellectual precipice staring down, as Nietzsche observed, at the abyss. And the abyss can seem both all consuming and mocking. And since lawyers are not encouraged to ask for help themselves –since they aspire for the controlled hero role in their jobs– they are left alone to do as they are trained to do: To “think their way” out of a problem that was created, ironically, by over-thinking.
My mother tells me my favorite book as a young child was What People Do All Day by Richard Scarry. In the book it explains how everyone has a job to do during the day. Some are bakers, some are firemen, some our merchants, some are farmers, some are moms, some are repairmen, some are are doctors and some are lawyers. And so on. And each has some task or assignment for the day that makes everything kind of work together.
The reason I started this post was to link to this story —an eloquent reflection on on the legal profession by one of Kentucky’s wisest and most insightful practitioners, Supreme Court Justice Bill Cunningham, who recently lost yet another friend and colleague to suicide. Click here to read the story.
But I think I’d rather end this post on a more mundane note. Or rather a mundane hope. That lawyers, like the characters in Richard Scarry’s “What People Do All Day” realize they are only doing a job, completing a task, fulfilling a role that makes society somehow work. If it wasn’t being a lawyer they’d be doing some other job that makes society function. And that it’s just a job, like any other. And that they are just people too. Mostly just trying to stay busy all day.
And others in our busy little towns have jobs that can help those struggling with depression, addiction and thoughts of suicide. And that these people need to stay busy too–from people who need them and reach out for their help. Or our busy little towns won’t work so well.
We all say this almost weekly when describing to others what it’s like to live in Louisville.
“It’s a great place to live and raise a family” I’ve said over 3000 times. And meant it each time.
Sure, it’s not “edgiest… city”, or “fastest growing city” or “fastest dying city” or any of the other more thrilling adjectives that would be more conducive to a burst of adrenaline.
But Louisville isn’t where people move to for an adrenaline rush. It’s where people move to after the they’ve tried the “adrenaline rush” cities and found them wanting.
They’ve learned the hard way that a uniquely “livable city” was what they were really looking for all along…and just didn’t know it. At least that’s my story. And I know it’s a common one.
Louisville is not a city full of cheap external thrills. Rather it is a city that allows us to become our better selves internally.
Congrats Louisville. On being great –in fact, the best–at being a good place to live.
I’d put it this way: LA, NY, Chicago, Dallas, New Orleans, Philly, Cindy, Indy, Atlanta and Nashville are all fun cities to date. But Louisville is the city that you are going to want to marry.
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Jun 18, 2012 at 9:15 AM ET
JYB Sr., JYB Jr. and JYB III circa 1972
This Father’s Day I received an unexpected almost magical gift at 11pm on the plane ride home from a family vacation. While clearing out old stored documents on my laptop I found a story written by my grandfather, John Y Brown Sr, whose name I carry, reflecting on the meaning of being a father to his youngest daughter, Pam Brown.
It is a sad and tragic story….but it is also a celebration of the love of a doting and devoted father for his endearing and adoring youngest daughter.
Pam died at the age of 28 trying –along with her newlywed husband and one other—to be the first persons to cross the Atlantic Ocean in a hot air balloon. It was a quixotic adventure that ended tragically and probably, more than any other single event, defined or redefined my father’s family.
Pam had a flair for the dramatic and in her short life had a distinguished career in theater and television. Actor’s Theatre in Louisville has a portrait of Pam on display (mentioned in my grandfather’s story) –just outside of the theatre that bears her name.
I remember when the balloon went down in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. And when some two weeks later when the search parties gave up looking for the bodies. We never talked a lot about it as a family. I suppose it was too painful.
But in my grandfather’s case it appears it was so painful he had to write about it. My grandfather was a thoughtful, kind and thoroughly good man. But not a man who spoke easily about feelings. That all changed for me last night (as I’m sure it changed for other family members when they read or will read this story) as I stumbled across his heartfelt reflection of his relationship with his youngest daughter and her tragic death. It’s a photocopy of the booklet he created– typed out with pictures and some portions written in his own hand when he was about 80 years old.
My grandfather was a man I knew, respected and loved –but didn’t know as well as I wanted to. I’d never glimpsed his most human or fragile side. A side all fathers and grandfathers have. It was a wonderful Father’s Day gift.
From a man who died on Father’s Day 27 years ago yesterday.
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Jun 15, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
They’re baaaack…..
Like all consumer savvy Americans, I love a bargain…and up to a point enjoy hunting for good bargains.
But –on Sunday’s especially–I sometimes feel stuck in a labyrinth of coupons, rebates, sky miles, reward points, and special seasonal sales.
All I know is that all those Wall Street financail hot shots who had a role in causing the financial crises (and market meltdown) in 2008 had to turn up again somewhere after many lost their jobs.
I believe they now run the rebate/coupon programs for our leading merchandise chains and are employing the same financial slight of hand to my coupon/rebate decisions.
It’s just a gut feeling. But a pretty strong one.
Maybe there is a new service that can shop for those of us too dumb to figure out what deals are really good ones and which ones aren’t. Or at least please put out a new Dummies book on how to take advantage of these great deals. I just hate that it’s got so complicated to buy good products at competitive prices. It’s more about scissors, mailing addresses and online comparative shopping than feeling a melon for bruises at the grocery. I miss the old fashioned tangible stuff.
Can’t you financial wizards find something else to do. ; )
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Jun 14, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Nothing gets my morning off to a good start better than being tailgated for 3/4 of a mile.
Geez.
Never been tailgated so closely for so long.
It felt like part reckless driving; part sexual assault.
Well, it just makes such good sense, though. By tailgating me by seeming millimeters, my friend arrived nearly 0.2 seconds earlier at Starbucks, which apparently was very important to him.
And here’s the beauty part. I was in front of him at Starbucks. And moved ahead very slowly in line.
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Jun 13, 2012 at 1:00 PM ET
(ORLANDO) Yesterday, my daughter tried out and made the first round of auditions for American Idol at Disney. And decided to stop before continuing. But not before making me promise to audition today–with her joining me at the audition.
Maggie and I went in a small room with a really friendlye auditioner who asked us a lot of very friendly questions.
I was a liltte nervous and explained I was Oliver in the play named, well, Oliver, at camp when I was 12 and choked when signing “Where is Love,” and that today–37 years later–was my chance to vindicate myself. The auditioner lady, Katie, told me to stand on the star and sing for 30 seconds acapello.
My daughter nudged me toward the star. I cleared my throat and bagan. My voice quivered at first, but I immediately broke out and was nailing the song –just like I did practicing it at age 12. But the finale approached and I swung for the fences but missed the final note. I didn’t think I missed it too badly and hoped that the auditioner didn’t notice. Even though my daughter was laughing uncontrollably just a few feet away.
Katie complemented me and my musical ear and asked if I played any instruments. I answered her, but mostly just wanted to know if I had made it to the second round.
I explained that my daughter –the one laughing really hard–made it to the second round yesterday. Hinting that we had the same genes, so, you know….that should count for something.
And I mentioned again that I’d been waiting for 37 years to make this right.
A pic of me at Disney today. Hanging my head in shame after failing to make it past the first audition at American Idol.
Katie asked me my name and began writing. I was hopeful.
It was a Disney button with my name on it. A consolation prize for not making the second round. The equivalent of a giant loser button you can wear for the rest of the rrip so people will know you didn’t make it past the first round at the American Idol audition.
As she handed it to me I imagined Chuck Berry gonging me from the old Gong Show and saying someting insulting.
I took the button and threw it away as soon as I was outside– as I munbled “Bitch” under my breath 15 minutes later my daughter is still laughing.
It was a magical experience, still. Becuase I learned that when I choked at age 12 and refused to sing “Where is Love” solo in the play Oliver, I made the right decision. Today vindicated me.
A shocking antidote to a shocking bullying episode.
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