As Johnnie mentioned talk sheets were used to guide Pops through many phone conversations, but while he was using them with acquisition prospects, a secretary skilled in shorthand was frequently on another line making notes on exactly what was said for careful analysis at the conclusion of each call. The notes were critical to developing a second talk sheet zeroing in on any weaknesses detected in reasons given for the prospect’s hesitancy to sell. Or for that matter, any thoughts that could be countermanded and overcome with a new approach and a new, improved offer to go along with it. Knowing the details and every nuance of how the conversation went gave Pops the advantage going into the second round.
But talk sheets, as Johnnie Babcock recalls vividly, were just the first step in my father’s elaborate “command and control” management of his managers. Johnnie paints this picture of the dreaded 8 AM management meetings: “I remember, as his second in command, we would gather at the heavy oak conference table with no more than peremptory morning greetings. The profound dread of some of the members relentlessly pervaded the rest of the group. Meetings were never relaxed or chatty. As soon as we were settled, Roy would stalk from behind his desk, walk toward the large oil painting of Duncan Hines at the end of his great office until he reached his seat at the head of the table. He carried a large stack of folders with our names on the tabs, and several bulky reports. The agenda before each of us was based on the meeting a week earlier and demanded verbal accountability by whoever was on the carpet. But before tackling the agenda, we received a little lecture from our chief.
“Whatever broad subject his opening speech covered was focused narrowly on our management group. If it was government threat of wage controls, he’d admonish all to be prepared for a round of wage belt tightening. If it was a tax issue, he would remind us of towering corporate debt and our individual responsibility to improve profits. If there had been news of a drought in an area served by our group, he’d emphasize the need in that troubled economy for a more effective local sales force, not only on that spot on earth but throughout the company. Then he’d sweep the table with his eyes beneath his trademark bushy eye brows. Although the cast of characters changed over time, here’s a sample of who he would see: “First, his trusted operations vice president and torpedo, me.
I say torpedo because Roy never fired anyone. He’d direct me, or sometimes another department head, to get rid of an employee he considered undesirable. The reason could be as minor as a crank letter from a viewer or negative vibes from an advertiser. He had his own way of personally separating people he didn’t want or like. He simply made life at work so unbearable that they’d resign. I never came in for abuse at the meeting.
“Next, his vice president of finance. This gentlemen sat near Roy so he could observe and confirm figures that Roy recited. Whether or not the numbers were correct, if Park challenged them, he was expected to be right there to agree. Roy could insist that two plus two was other than four and not expect an argument from his financial person.
“Then, the manager of real estate for RHP Incorporated. The son of a popular and revered real estate principal, he was recruited from the family business to be Roy’s real estate professional. He had the family charm and affability but no head for figures. He was the deer frozen in the headlights at every meeting, scolded by Roy for his late performance. Often Roy would request that he leave the gathering to write up rental payment delinquents or to make a personal collection call. He took his beating placidly, then resumed his routine, leaving behind word that he was out of the office on collection calls and hence unavailable. His travel was frequent and confusing. Roy might ask him to go by Ogdensburg, NY, on his way to Brooksville, FL. Trips were scheduled on the spur of the moment, with no time to plan ahead.
“Another was Park’s administrative assistant. His job was to produce minutes of the meeting and at the meeting to produce the folder Roy would need for the next subject. He had come by his skill at this function after working in the same capacity for a retired president of a major university, who was a taskmaster, too, but one who assigned tasks with equanimity and humor. Roy leaned hard on him, including a requirement that he deliver mail from the box on Sundays and wait at the Park home for Roy to process and give him instructions for Monday dissemination of the packet.
“Then there was the vice president of newspapers. Having reached initial goals of broadcast acquisition, Park applied himself with the same energy to procure small daily and weekly newspapers. One person who held this title was hired from a highly responsible post with a major press syndicate to seek out and evaluate prospective sellers. He came to meetings with a high stack of folders, prepared to answer each and every question. Roy just plain didn’t like his style and was irritated by the depth of knowledge he articulated and his broad range of top industry contacts. This gentleman’s reports were always crisp and to the point, but often in part refuted in response from Roy. This was the classic example of Park making his life so miserable that he’d go away. A direct and painfully honest man, leave he did, becoming a professor and author at a major university.
“Next, Dave Feldman, treasurer of Park Outdoor and Roy’s real estate holdings. He attended meetings to report the financial information on Park Outdoor, managed by Roy’s son. Dave’s job was to present the financial reports and forecasts. Though the most tenured of Park’s financial staff, it was obvious that he would not be first choice as chief financial officer (CFO), because he would dispute inaccurate data and statements. Instead the post was conferred on another who was expected to agree with everything Park said.
“I was made aware that one year, Feldman, during his review, was told by Park’s finance vice-president he wasn’t getting any increase, and when he asked why, he was told, ‘Because you don’t smile enough in the meetings.’ “Finally, Roy H. Park, Jr., general manager of Park Outdoor. A meeting attendee who had served in several posts for his father and who had acquired advertising expertise both through a Cornell MBA and as an executive of a nationally ranked ad agency. Pops, as Roy, Jr. called him, gloried in saving from the weekend mail a complaint not yet seen by Roy, Jr., Dave Feldman or me (the executive through whom Roy, Jr. reported to his father).
Roy verbally accused his son for whatever deficiency had been reported in the letter he intercepted, regardless of whether it was valid or not, inferring that it might have gone unremedied had his vigilance not brought it to light.
“The abuse of some of the other officers was accepted or seemingly fell on partially deaf ears. Not so with young Roy. He stood his ground, despite knowing who held the winning hand. When Pops objected to a $5-a-week raise for a secretary who had been with the company for forty years and hadn’t had a raise since his son joined the company, young Roy said she was doing a good job and deserved one. His father said she didn’t because she had protected past managers, covering up any transgressions by not reporting them to headquarters. Sometimes silence is the best answer, but not this time. When his son asked, ‘Then why did you keep her?’ his father moved quickly to another subject.
“I could see and feel Roy, Jr.’s foot suspended in air by his crossed legs under the conference table, vibrating as it oscillated in a tapping motion of frustration and anger. Being picked on is one thing. Being put down in front of your peers leaves a deep, hard-to-heal wound. Young Roy was not to forget his father’s trespasses or how he was trespassed upon. His father’s dictatorial and unfeeling conduct with his own family planted seeds of doubt as to the eventual treatment of me as well, a non–family member.”