In Johnnie Babcock’s own words: “My personal relationship with Roy H. Park had a few ripples but seldom a storm. I functioned as operations coordinator of his companies through 1981 for nineteen years. Abandoning a well-earned corporate post to return to Ithaca at age forty-two, I elected to invest my business experience and productive energy in a new career full of promise. I hit the ground running, and Roy saw to it that I ran full speed for all those years. I learned to deflect his habitual and predictive bossism and served as a buffer between him and regular targets such as Bob Burns, Dave Feldman and his son, Roy, Jr. He deluged these unfortunates with critical memos and impossible-to-achieve demands. He particularly relished skewering and demeaning young Roy at our weekly management meetings. I was the instrument of destruction if Roy Sr. wanted, for whatever reason, to get rid of a station manager or key supervisor. He relied on me as the torpedo to do the deed. He never personally fired anyone. For some, he made life so difficult that they resigned.
“In a company environment that emphasized slow career and pay growth for all employees, I was, as they say in upstate New York, ‘brought along’ with regular but modest salary increases, and edged up in title from operations manager to operations VP, and ultimately to executive VP for operations. I was too visible on the management scene to be named president, as he had promised. One theory was that he thought too lofty a title might dim the spotlight on his unique management image as chairman, president and chief executive officer.
“In the 1980s, the broadcasting industry entered the digital age and acquired the information and management tools made possible by computers. Radio and television groups were becoming sophisticated, and they were growing fast through acquisitions to threaten Park’s proprietary claim to owning more U.S. broadcast stations than anyone else. Many already served larger markets with more people than Park Broadcasting did.
“I represented our firm at industry gatherings that bored Roy, such as the National Association of Broadcasters convention, which annually introduced the newest engineering products and production techniques. He allowed me to make capital commitments for major items of broadcasting gear. I could bargain effectively for multiple purchases to update several of our stations at one time. State-of -the-art equipment was necessary to be competitive, Park acknowledged, but personally he couldn’t distinguish a transmitter from a microchip and didn’t much care.
“I learned that top management people in other firms made much higher salaries than I did. Some owners had approached me with a better deal than I had with Roy, but I fended them off because of the carrot Roy had held out of eventual equity and a handsome retirement program. And I had no desire to live in and commute from a major city such as Los Angeles, Chicago, New York or Boston. My young brood of three girls was growing up in my birthplace, Ithaca, NY. They loved the fresh air and the lively college campuses in their hometown. The lure of greater things for me paled in light of these attractions, but I did think I deserved more money, and I wanted Roy Sr. to live up to the commitments he made when he hired me.
“Although I was paid more than anyone on my management team, I grew increasingly disenchanted. Knowing that Roy often picked up the mail at the post office on Saturdays, and that he would expect me to be at the office catching up after a week on the road, I made sure to be there one weekend. When he showed up, and after an hour of ripping open envelopes to ferret out viewer complaints or information that would embarrass a staff member on Monday morning, he rang my number and summoned me to his huge office.
“I was loaded for bear. Before he could engage in the usual business exchanges, I spoke up and said I wanted to have some direct talk with him. Sensing that I was on the muscle, he shrugged back into the depths of his plush chair, and good listener that he was, warily heard me out. I told him that I did not think that I was paid as well as some other group managers whose pay had been reported in our most prestigious trade magazine. His hand inched forward toward that formidable center top drawer, home of the memos and hand-written notes he squirreled away for future reference after each hiring interview with top management candidates. He quickly sorted through his notes and clutched the memo dealing with my first day as his key assistant.
“Feeling that I was about to be jerked around, I asked him to read the notes in his hand. I asked that he pass by the words granting medical coverage, etc., and get to the critical part that clearly said that I would be rewarded with stock in his company, and the promise of a substantial retirement. Where were options or awards of equity? Where was my retirement agreement? On the rare occasions when Park was on the defensive, his dark eyes under the bushy eyebrows shown with threatening intensity. His speaking voice, normally so muted that it could hardly be heard, rose sharply.
“He responded with his almost-patented observation that he never paid a dividend, even to himself, and that he had no plans to change. Going public was way in the future. I pressed my request for an answer as to when and how much I could expect in stock or options, and what retirement plan I might expect. I noted that he had in hand the letter confirming his original promise that I would be named president and be granted equity and retirement.
With a dark cloud in his eyes, he tilted his head defiantly and said loud and clear: I changed my mind! “I stood up, took my key chain out of my pocket, separated the building and office key, and tossed them on his desk. Two decades of loyal service and contribution had been wiped out by four vindictive words. “I immediately started to build my own retirement portfolio through management consultancies, affiliation with a well-regarded broadcast brokerage firm, and a commitment to work with a major investment firm in New York City interested in communications industry ownership. All three ventures took off positively and kept me busy cashing in on almost four decades of management experience. Meanwhile, Roy Sr. resorted to communicating with me through his very expensive Washington, DC, attorney, and soon we just fell out of touch. My wife and I would see him at social occasions. While she would not speak to him, I engaged in sufficient small talk to indicate that I did not hold a grudge. Indeed, I did not. “If there was any satisfaction in my departure from Park, it was to observe him at various luncheon spots, huddling with his financial people. Park lunches were traditionally work sessions but accommodated and encouraged lively give-and-take conversation. Now I imagined they radiated the warmth of a 1930 vintage adding machine. Those lunches prompted one to recall something from my earlier career, when I reported to a top executive who was to die an alcoholic. Wife Nancy wryly suggested that for Christmas I present my undeserving boss with a fifth of whiskey. It was poetic justice that my former employer, the most sophisticated and gifted numbers man ever, should have for lunch a continuing compendium of indigestible statistics.
“A few weeks after I turned in my keys, my daughter, Jeannie, was married in the First Presbyterian Church in Ithaca. Roy and Dottie declined the invitation, but Roy, Jr. and Tetlow came to the wedding to support our family at this important time in our lives.
“Over time, Roy retreated to the plush office in his home, increasingly withdrew from day-to-day involvement, and missed savoring the crowning glory of a full life of accomplishment and financial enrichment. He would not like this said, but I was truly sorry for him. And I had good reason to feel compassion for his son, who also received precious little praise for his years of effort and achievement at Park Communications.”