Rod McQueen's Blog, page 50

Thoughts about thinkers

Thinkers. I don’t know what to say about thinkers except that they don’t sound much like do-ers. Four of the recipients on the global Thinkers50 Awards are Canadian, with Roger Martin ranked third and Don Tapscott fourth. Martin, dean of the Rotman School of Management, has been on the Research In Motion/BlackBerry board of directors for six years during which time the company nearly imploded. I understand that Martin led discussions on strategy at board retreats held at Langdon Hall, a Relais et Chateaux destination close to Waterloo. I guess no one listened.

I’ve never met Sydney Finkelstein, a Canadian who teaches at the Tuck School of Business at Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire, who also made the list, but I have worked closely with Don Tapscott. Don and I signed a contract with McGraw-Hill to be co-authors of The Digital Economy, published in 1996. We were each supposed to write half the book with me focusing on case studies and Don on the big picture. As the months passed, his contribution was slim to non-existent. I finally sat him down in his office, picked up a piece of chalk, and wrote on his blackboard, “Read the Riot Act.” I told him he had to start producing 2,000 words a week or we wouldn’t meet our deadline.

Don got busy and ended up liking everything so much that he decided he wanted the book all to himself. He bought me off so I no longer appeared as a co-author. Which was fine with me, the book was mostly about his ideas on networked intelligence anyway. Plus I continued to receive half the royalties on every book sold. The cheques are still coming.

As for Richard Florida, the American-born “Canadian” on Thinkers50, his big idea seems to be that Toronto should be a cultural, financial, trade, and thought centre. Doesn’t that sound a lot like Florence way back in the fifteenth century when the guilds and the Medicis ruled and the Renaissance bloomed? Just a thought.

Long time gone

It’s been six years since the Dixie Chicks were on the road. They are just finishing a three-month tour of the U.S. followed by three weeks in Canada. Lead singer Natalie Maines came armed with some Canadian material that I’m sure she used all across the country. She said she’d seen a story on Huffington Post describing Canadians as among the happiest people in the world. After getting depressed thinking about this fact for some time, Natalie then realized, “It’s so cold here, you don’t feel any pain.”

By the time of last night’s show, where my daughter and I saw the Dixie Chicks at Copps Coliseum in Hamilton, the fiasco that is Rob Ford had offered up more grist for the mill. “Wherever you are Mayor Ford, and whatever you’re smoking, this next song’s for you,” said Natalie as they launched into Sin Wagon that includes these lyrics, “One more helpin’ of what I’ve been havin’/I’m takin’ my turn on the sin wagon.”

Natalie, with Emily Robison and Martie Maguire, performed a two-hour twenty-two song setlist that’s been pretty consistent on the Long Time Gone Tour, featuring most of their hits in chronological order. The encore began with Travelin’ Soldier, the song Natalie was introducing 10 years ago just before George W. Bush launched the attach on Iraq. Her comment that night about being “embarrassed” because she was from the same state as Bush knocked the group into limbo for years. The next song in the encore was their bravura response to the world, Not Ready to Make Nice. The final song was a Bob Dylan cover, Mississippi. Last concert I was at, Pearl Jam also used a cover to conclude, Neil Young’s Rockin’ in the Free World.

Natalie has a new hairdo. According to Natalie, when her schoolboy son saw it for the first time, he said, “I hate it. It’s hideous. It makes you look ugly.” He’s right. The blond is gone, replaced by black, shorn on the sides with a lickspittle bubble on the top. In her short shorts she looked both butch and like Justin Beiber at the same time.

The trouble with going to concerts is that other people are there. This crowd was three-quarters women in their thirties, often in packs of six, like bridesmaids in Vegas. In another era, the crowd would hold up Bic lighters all aflame in tribute. These days, all you see is the lit screens of smartphones with faces staring at the technology. As if there wasn’t a great performance going on around them.

Such obnoxious behaviour used to take place only in piano bars where people were drinking and chatting and the entertainment might as well have been wallpaper. Now, no matter how good the group, or what pyrotechnics are exploding on stage, it’s almost impossible to attract and maintain everybody’s attention. You wonder why some people even bother to come, the show seems so incidental. Unless it’s so they can add a few selfies to their collection from a new location.

Lest we forget

John Kenneth Macalister was born in Guelph in 1914 and attended Guelph Collegiate Vocational Institute where he won a Rhodes Scholarship to study at Oxford and the Institute of Corporate Law in Paris. When the Second World War broke out he tried to enlist but his eyesight was too weak so he joined the Special Operations Executive, a British intelligence agency.

Macalister and another Canadian, Frank Pickersgill, parachuted into France in 1943 to help organize the resistance movement but were captured almost immediately by the Gestapo. The two were treated as spies, imprisoned and tortured, and in 1944 were sent to Buchenwald where they died terrible deaths, hung on meathooks.

I grew up two doors from Macalister’s parents, Celestine and Alex. Like Kenneth, I was an only child, born in the year he died. Celestine liked me and would regularly invite me in for visits when I was a lad of ten or twelve. We’d sip tea from bone china cups as we sat in her drapery-darkened front parlour decorated in the Victorian style with every surface covered in knick-knacks. Alex was editor of the Guelph Mercury for years. I don’t think he and I ever spoke. He’d come home from work and hoe alone in his vegetable garden until sundown. He seemed a broken man.

Celestine gave me three books that had belonged to her beloved Kenneth: Northern Trails, by William Joseph Long, Red Fox by Charles G. D. Roberts, and Tom Swift and His Big Tunnel by Victor Appleton. The first two are inscribed to Kenneth, one as a Christmas gift. She also gave me a walnut document box with her husband’s name on a small brass plaque attached to the top.

I have treasured these keepsakes for decades but I decided, with Remembrance Day coming, I should share these treasures with others. Today I visited GCVI – where Macalister is a member of the Wall of Fame along with other illustrious Guelphites like George Drew, Edward Johnson and Joey Slinger – and donated everything to the school archives. Walking those halls for the first time in fifty years was a chilling experience. Time has flown by so quickly. But I have been able to have my life and my freedom because of Canadians like Kenneth Macalister and soldiers from many other nations who fought with bravery for those of us yet to come. For that, I give thanks.

All dolled up

First it was candles and wrapping paper, then coffee and crumpets, now it’s to be dolls and accessories at Indigo. As a grandfather, I welcome the arrival of American Girl in Canada. My shopping will be handier. But as an author, I shudder at the thought of more floor space being stolen from books and given over to toys. Bad enough that Indigo has two-thirds of the book market in Canada, putting many independents out of business, now they’re getting out of the book business themselves, a few square feet at a time.

Initially, American Girl will be in two Indigo stores but that could grow to fifteen locations within two years, Octagon Capital analyst Robert Gibson told The Globe and Mail. “We have a big ambition for it,” said Indigo CEO Heather Reisman. If Reisman can keep prices the same as the U.S., as she claims will be the case, more power to her. Few other retailers have made the same commitment.

I’ve been in American Girl outlets in both New York and Chicago and I’m trying to imagine how this will all work with “boutiques” created inside current Indigo locations. The noise and excitement is at a high pitch. The flurry of mothers and daughters who fill American Girl stores will certainly change the ambiance of the bookstore surroundings. You’ll be standing there, browsing in the literary travel section, when suddenly a birthday party parade of ten-year-olds will pass by – with their dresses and matching doll outfits – laughing and chattering on their way to a celebratory in-store event.

Before Reisman launched Indigo she looked at bringing in Borders, the U.S. book chain that went bankrupt in 2011. I understand that book retailing is a tough business these days. But if American Girl is coming here, why not open standalone outlets? Please leave us readers and authors with some decent-sized sales area for silent contemplation and sale of our beloved books.

Always something there to remind me

A lot of people – myself included – have been blathering on about today’s loose morals because in recent weeks Miley Cyrus has appeared naked in a video and Robin Thicke performs in another video with naked women. It took an exhibit at Musée D’Orsay to remind me that nakedness for the sake of art is nothing new. Entitled Masculine/Masculine, the exhibit in Paris of male nudes in art includes everything from a naked Eminem by American artist David LaChapelle through Picasso all the way back to life drawings by Delaunay from the nineteenth century. Promotional posters on the Metro show a naked Mercury, messenger to the gods, done in 2001 by the French duo Pierre et Gilles.

Of course, that’s France, you say, where attitudes are different. But the Musée D’Orsay took its cue from an exhibit of male nudes a year ago at the Leopold Museum in Vienna. And an equally shocking show with parental guidance warnings has just opened at the British Museum in London entitled Shunga: Sex and Pleasure in Japanese Art that features erotic items from 1600-1900.

All of this got me thinking about my favourite piece of sculpture in all the world, Donatello’s David. Done in the 1440s, it was the first statue in the round since antiquity and part of the wave of artistic reawakening that was the Renaissance. For me, it’s superior to Michelangelo’s better-known David. I can close my eyes and admire the naked and triumphant young warrior in my mind having been lucky enough to see Donatello’s work often in the Bargello in Florence.

Sex sells, and it always has. I just forgot for the moment when I was going on about naked nonsense on YouTube.

Newsmakers anonymous

There’s only one way to describe the Ontario Press Council ruling on The Globe and Mail story about drugs and Doug Ford: lily-livered. The piece, which sprawled over two pages in May, quoted ten unnamed sources on the topic of whether Councillor Ford did or did not deal in drugs during a misspent youth. Readers complained, as well they might, about such overuse of anonymous sources.

One anonymous source in a long investigative story is plenty, two is too many, ten is ludicrous. Readers have a right to know who’s talking. The media has a responsibility to name the people who are being quoted. It’s a cardinal rule. Any other approach is a slippery slope toward full-out fabrication. If a journalist doesn’t have to name a source, how do we know the source even exists?

In this case, the Globe story did not even really prove anything about Doug Ford and said absolutely nothing at all about Mayor Rob Ford. What was the point? The story was said to have taken 18 months to research and probably would never have run except that Globe editors likely got sick and tired of reading the fine work in the Toronto Star by Kevin Donovan and Robyn Doolittle about the mayor. Globe editors dusted off their story, swallowed their doubts, and published.

The Ontario Press Council concluded that the information in the article was “reasonably reliable.” Reasonably reliable? Is this the new criteria for newspapers and investigations thereof? Would you have your furnace fixed by someone who advertised themselves as reasonably reliable?

The Ontario Press Council missed an opportunity to castigate the usage of anonymous sources and re-establish the once higher standard. From here on, journalists will feel far freer to use anonymous sources to the detriment of us all. The Council was toothless; the Globe should not have been let off the hook.

The Vision thing

If you missed tonight’s launch of The Zoomer: Television for Boomers With Zip, Conrad Black’s new TV show, consider yourself lucky. It was awful. The premiere on Vision TV was a one-hour mish-mash that included a large panel, two documentaries, a splenetic monologue, a musical interlude, an interview and an applauding studio audience. It was as if the producer kept saying, “Maybe if we add just one more thing ….” One of the panelists, aging rocker Ronnie Hawkins, told how he was cured of cancer over the phone. The cure was a miracle, said Black, “You’re half-way to sainthood,” which was the night’s best line. Hawkins then left part way through the show claiming he had a concert to give. Others may have wished they had an excuse to slip away, too.

Much of the show seemed to be a plug for the Canadian Association of Retired Persons (CARP) with a poll and policy ideas pushed by Susan Eng, CARP’s vice-president of advocacy. Two authors got books plugged and Libby Znaimer interviewed centenarians at a retirement home. Her question to Ida Hall, turning 105, was, “You’re going to be 105. What do you think of that?” Ida’s answer was equally compelling, “I just live with it.” That was as insightful as things got.

Black is called a co-host but Denise Donlon did most of the heavy lifting. Black quoted Benjamin Disraeli and Jonathan Swift and did a rant about the U.S. justice system which you may have heard elsewhere. He also played second banana to Donlon who in one segment was shown in a bank requesting a mortgage. When she was asked for collateral, she pointed to Black, who simpered.

Black’s interview with Brian Mulroney had its moments, with Mulroney almost endorsing Justin Trudeau despite their party differences. “He’s not Stephen Harper. That’s his big thing. That’s what he’s going to run on.” Mulroney claimed he’d used a similar strategy to get elected in 1984 by saying he was not Pierre Trudeau. That’s not how I remember it. John Turner was prime minister at the time.

Next week, Black interviews Bob Rae. I guess there will be different panelists. I won’t be watching. I think I have to mow my lawn that night.

Black and BlueBerry Part 2

BlackBerry’s corporate problems were well documented in last Saturday’s Globe and Mail. The themes identified certainly jibe with what I’ve been hearing from Waterloo in recent months. The only problem the writers missed – and it’s a major cause of the corporate calamity – is the antagonism that grew between former co-CEOs Jim Balsillie and Mike Lazaridis. The rift began in 2006 when Research In Motion paid US$612.5 million to patent troll NTP Inc. Everybody blamed anybody else.

The schism between the two men gathered speed when the stock options back-dating issue was settled with the Ontario Securities Commission in 2007 after fines and general embarrassment. Why didn’t Jim have this matter in hand, wondered Mike? Why didn’t Mike share more of the blame, wondered Jim? Next, there was even a physical separation. In the early years, the two worked across the hall from each other. When I interviewed them for my book on BlackBerry, published in 2010, they were in separate buildings, but only a five-minute walk apart. Shortly thereafter, Jim and the business division up and moved near RIM Park, about six kilometers away. They talked less and less to each other. I’m told that when one met with employees he’d often have a different message than they’d heard recently from the other. The alienation between the two was obvious when they were in the same room, say good sources.

But 20/20 hindsight is so clear. Autopsies are easy. What about us Q10 and Z10 owners suffering collateral damage because we’re stuck with poor-performing models from a company that now says it no longer cares about consumers? I bought the Q10 in May and have become increasingly frustrated with its lacklustre performance. After more than five months there has been only one software upgrade. We’re still at 10.1 even though I’m told the 10.2 version has been ready for a while. My Q10 still does not sync with my Outlook 2013 email.

Compare the Q10 to my iPad where updates flow regularly and automatically. I learned all I need to know about how to operate it from my grandchildren, who are both in elementary school. It took about seven minutes. There’s hardly a week goes by that I don’t stumble around trying to solve some new issue with the Q10.

I talked recently with an executive, another long-time BlackBerry fan. He didn’t like either the Z10 or the Q10. He solved his problem by buying two iPhones, one for personal use, the other for business. I guess he must have a helpful expense account. According to Rogers, if I switch to an iPhone, I’ll have to pay over $600 (plus tax) half of which is a penalty for breaking my three-year Q10 contract.

Thanks, BlackBerry. If only I could get one of those $500 million tax refunds like you did.

Time to act

The Ontario Securities Commission has called for submissions on the question why there are too few women in senior management and on corporate boards. Here’s a slightly condensed version of the comment I sent:

As a business journalist and author for more than 30 years, I have watched closely and often wrote about the dearth of women on corporate boards and in senior management. Indeed, while at The Financial Post in the early 1990s, I launched an annual feature called The 50 Most Powerful Women in Canada. I saw this as a way not only to recognize the contribution of women in business but also to inform young women that success was possible and inspire them to achieve whatever great goals they sought in commerce.

I’ve heard all the arguments about how the passage of time will solve the problem. Once more women move up, goes the story, there will be enough women available for top jobs and directorships. Such arguments are hollow given the lack of progress borne out by statistics. There are a few exceptions such as BMO Financial where Rose Patten and Tony Comper altered ancient patterns. During his time as Chief Executive Officer, Mr. Comper increased the proportion of women in senior management from about 8 per cent to almost 40 per cent. Without such constant commitment from the top, nothing happens. Regrettably, too few CEOs include the promotion of women on their agendas.

Some people are promoting the so-called “comply or explain” method to increase the number of women at the top. If the OSC decides to take this route, I’m afraid the result will simply be a few boilerplate pages in every annual report saying why Firm X or Company Y could not meet expectations.

The best way to change the current dilemma is to put in place the kind of stretch targets sought in Norway and other European nations. The OSC should require all Canadian public companies to have 35 per cent female membership on boards and a similar proportion in senior management within five years of proclamation and 50 per cent within ten years of proclamation.

I respectfully urge the Commission to seize the moment and take historic action that will end this significant problem that has handcuffed Canadian businesswomen for decades.

The Thicke of it

There’s lots good to say about YouTube. Two young Croatian cellists post a Michael Jackson cover and the song goes viral. Elton John calls asking them to open for him on his next tour. Sony offers a record contract. And there was the duo, now called 2Cellos, featured on a PBS special Sunday night playing in Zagreb before thousands of fans.

For every such success story, there are a million reasons why YouTube is the worst thing since the bubonic plague, filled as it is with soft and not-so-soft porn. I wouldn’t mind if the porn were just aimed at lonely males sitting at home, but it’s become a major way to market songs to teenagers and younger buyers.

First came the raunchy Blurred Lines by Robin Thicke with its fully clothed males and naked women prancing about while the lyrics repeat: “I know you want it. But you’re a good girl.” In response, Miley Cyrus has a hit with Wrecking Ball. “All I wanted to do is break your walls/All you ever did was wreck me,” she sings while swinging naked on a wrecking ball, licking a sledge hammer lasciviously, and generally hanging out with phallic symbols. I’m not going to give the links. I’m sure you can find them yourself.

I pooh-poohed Tipper Gore twenty years ago when she fought foul lyrics and won some warning labels. There are no restraints today. Many parents are too busy to worry about controls on what their kids watch or can’t be bothered. And speaking of parents, Billy Ray Cyrus told Piers Morgan that his daughter is just “evolving” but “That’s still my Miley.” Alan Thicke is equally supportive of his son. He told The Globe and Mail, “We’ve been looking at bums for years, and suddenly to take off your top is no big deal. There are no sex acts taking place.” Well, Thicke and Cyrus were as close as you could get with clothes on at the Video Music Awards as she gyrated near his groin.

Am I the only one who’s offended by all this? The trouble is that such behaviour leads to that incident at St. Mary’s in Halifax where young men and women chanted about raping underage girls. Everybody is growing up inured to flesh and sex. Respect has been lost in the soft-porn shuffle.