Claremont Cowboys Ride Again

“So what should the secret password be,” I shouted.  “Something that only we know,” barked Tom, my older brother as he pounded the final nails into the roof.  “How about our street name,” said Phil.  “No, something more secret than that,” Tom added.  “I know, how about Roy Rogers,” I said.  “That’s it, everyone yelled almost in unison.  Our secret password is Roy Rogers.”

When I was a boy, we lived for about seven years on the east side of San Jose in what was then known as California’s “Valley of Hearts Delight.”  Although there were a few people playing with silicon sand, our hometown was more famous for its pitted prunes than its prickly processors.

Our modest house on Claremont Street with its white shutters and stubby picket fence kissed the east foothills.  Claremont gently curved to a dead end that in spring led to fields of tall green grass and brittle yellow hay in late summer.  We lived beyond the curve and one house away from a horse ranch that stretched beyond the road’s end.  Our neighborhood was Beaver Cleaver meets Mayberry.

We were a “gang” or more appropriately, a motley crew led mostly by Tom, the elder of the tribe.  Along with the fields, our turf was dirt, asphalt and apricot orchards.  In spite of the obligatory stomachache, I still have an affinity for apricots that are a bit on the green side.

Most Saturdays by 9 a.m., we were already soiled, scruffy and looking for trouble.  We hiked, rode bikes, played kickball, rustled up some cops and robbers chases as well as the more mundane hide and seek to fill our days and nights.  It was the usual gang fare.

One Saturday after a battle of king of the hill out in the field, we decided to build a clubhouse in our backyard.  This clubhouse…or a fort if you will…would be our hideaway…our castle, our place to pretend.

Borrowing some tools from my dad, we snatched some excess fence boards and a bag of nails.  After a quick plan scratched in the dirt, we set about building what would be our secret hideaway from the other “gang” down the street and around the curve. 

On school days, we would come home, scarf down a Wonder Bread bologna sandwich, Oreos and some raspberry Kool-Aid.  With our glossy red mustaches dripping from our lips, we would head out to continue the construction.

While we worked, we shared stories about how life would be when our fort was finished.

We would know the secret password so we could be mean to the other kids when they tried to come in. “That would be a good one,” laughed Kenny, another gang member.

Phil wanted to cut a secret door in the back of the fort leading to our next-door neighbor’s yard so we could escape from our dreaded “enemies.”

All of the stories were filled with detail and color.  Our excitement kept us working many times way too late into the night.

A good example is the story about the horses next door.

“Let’s feed ‘Blackie’ the lawn trimmings and then he’ll let us ride him, Kenny said.  We can ride him across the field and surprise the kids on the other street.  We’ll be known as the  ‘Claremont Cowboys.’”

Roy and Dale would have been proud.

 If memory serves me, the fort was finished the following Saturday.  The final boards were sawed.  The last nail nailed.

Hammers, saws, screwdrivers and leftover nails were strewn on the ground as we stood back a little to gaze at our creation.  With a push from Tom, the door creaked open.  With sunbeams streaking through the knotholes in the warped boards, we slinked in as if going into church.

Once huddled inside, a silence fell in the now holy space.  The dirt floor was cold and damp.  Within moments, our pants were muddy, wet and even grimier than before.  We sat there staring at each other.  Tom looked at Kenny, Phillip looked at me.  Our grins confirmed we were ready for action.

Days and weeks passed.  There were no fancy club meetings.  It turned out our imaginations were cleverer than reality.  We did use the fort as a hiding place…from each other.  The other kids down the street never bothered to show up.  We really didn’t need the password or the secret door after all.

The excitement of building the fort was melting like a Popsicle oozing down your wrist on a hot summer day.  Our attention once riveted in place drained away into a pool of what’s next.

With a little help from our Dad, the fort eventually became a chicken coop. Practicality reigned, but the message remains.

The message of course is about the future and appreciation of the journey.  We enjoyed building the fort, but it turned out not to be the prize.  The prize was the relationships created and the celebrations along the way.  We were learning about leadership.

Transparency Headed to Emergency Room

Pete Carey, Pulitzer Prize winner and a former colleague still slaving away at the San Jose Mercury News, penned a recent news story that stunned me.  Even though I have been following the plight of daily newspapers for years now, I was shocked to hear that The San Francisco Chronicle, sometimes known as the heart of the city, was about to go belly-up to the bankruptcy bar.

One would think I’d be pleased since one of my last jobs while I worked at the Mercury News was to put the Chronicle out of business.  That was back in the early 80s.  I guess someone might credit me for the downfall, but I don’t think my work even chipped the cornerstone.

I love newspapers, the look, feel and even the smell.  With that in mind, I am using the newspaper industry “fall from grace” as the sub plot for my next book.  Some of the characters in The Offsite will make return appearances and a few new “amalgams” will take center stage.  However, that’s another story for another day.

Although internal politics kept me from the editorial side of the business at the Merc, I loved hanging with the news “guys” at lunch and especially during election night.  That’s when the newsroom buzzed.  When all of the stories were put to bed, the city editor would bring out the booze.  Drinks all around.  I really coveted those green eyeshades too.  Okay, not really.

However, that was then.  This is now.

Today stories on how newspapers will no longer exist are like hail stones in a heavy storm.  It was the Internet, some say.  Others blame the younger generation’s refusal to read newspapers, books or anything that presses ink to paper.  Many others focus on leadership or rather the lack of it.

I say, yes.  All of the above.

Let me explain my point of view beginning with “Robert’s very brief and very general newspaper history of time.”

Newspapers were born as political pamphlets (some say they still are).  They morphed into an important tool that helped the public keep abreast of news from city hall to the White House and beyond.  They lived as independently as possible on advertising alone with the classified section (Pre-Craig’s List) paying most of the freight.  When big business began milking the cash-cow things began to shift.  What was once a community paper became a media conglomerate.  Quarterly earnings became more important than the news.  Going public was all the rage.

Fast forward to the dawn of The Internet, which began to change everything.  However, the Wall Street powers in their glass towers failed to grasp the point.  Thinking the public would tire of it quickly, corporate style publishers played with the pesky Internet as if it were a toy.  It was just another fad that will fade, they thought.

Look who’s fading.  Not into the black.

What does this mean to us?  While newspaper people smarter than me try to figure out what will work to keep the “newspaper” or its offspring alive, we can look at one potential negative and disastrous outcome.  Transparency.

Thomas Jefferson was quoted that if it comes to government without newspapers or newspapers without government he would select the latter.  I agree, with the caveat that the focus is on investigative reporting and not the paper product.

It doesn’t take long to look at today’s headlines to discern that without trained, independent news reporting the ethical fissures in Wall Street or Main Street alone would go unnoticed.  Many of our elected officials also would be more than happy to be able to shape the news they think needs to see the light of day.  Just trust us they wink.  George Orwell would be so proud.

Well, you might say, but what about the Internet news sites, Blogs, Television, Radio, etc.  Good thinking.  I am hopeful.  Unfortunately, most of those entities get their news or leads they report from…wait for it…newspapers.  There are some early attempts at independent journalism growing on the Internet but no one today would bet their life on them surviving.

I am certain that many of the organizations now calling themselves newspaper companies will morph into something new.  Perhaps a “paper” newspaper will be around for a few more years in some settings, but not for long.  (The trees will be forever grateful.) 

However, we shouldn’t be concerned about the business model.  The right model will take care of itself albeit with much short-term pain for individuals.  What we need to worry about is transparency, transparency, transparency.

Transparency is the cornerstone of our democracy.

That’s why we need real leaders to emerge.  We need real news people to step up to the situation and be sure that real reporting continues.  Our country can’t live on cable news shows that tell you what you want to hear.  Moreover, local television news seems to be more concerned about the results on American Idol versus the incompetence and corruption in America’s city halls.

We certainly don’t need more horoscopes, comics, fashion, etc.  All of that is readily available elsewhere.  No, we need real investigative reporting.  As productive citizens, we need to know about things we might not be concerned about on a daily basis…until we read what is happening behind the scenes.

Investigative reporting is not perfect.  However, without it, Enron would still be gaming our power grid and Madoff would still be prowling for dollars.

There are few new business models for reporting taking the stage.  However, time is running out for transparency, just ask our neighbors in Denver and Seattle.

The San Francisco Chronicle may be able to forestall bankruptcy with more bandages, splints and transfusions.  However, transparency in the City by the Bay may need a heart transplant.   

The Offsite Book Club

I am always pleased yet amazed at how the layered messages in The Offsite are seeping into everyday life.  Many of the messages people glean from the contents and share with me were unintentional on my part.  That is what makes books so great.  There is always something new to learn, even for the author.

Of course, the book is being used in many corporate and government interactions.  That is its primary market.

However, I learned recently that some church groups were using The Offsite messages as fodder for their leadership groups to chew on while they reenergize their efforts at building larger and more committed congregations.

Other church leaders are using The Offsite as a call to action.

Case in point:

Pastor Clark Frailey of Oklahoma’s Tecumseh First Baptist Church recently penned a review of the book for his partial fulfillment of a course at the Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary.  Check out his review.

Pastor Frailey was very flattering in his comments, which is much appreciated.  I am always happy when the book resonates well with readers.  I also learn from those who find the book not to their liking.  Feedback is always informative.

However, I particularly was intrigued by a new twist from his viewpoint.

‘This book could be implemented as a model for churches seeking to help transition their congregations to new models.  Churches that seek to move from event-based “attractional” models to service and “externally-focused” models must have lay leaders and staff convinced that a shared vision helps everyone achieve more for the Great Commission.”

Moreover, it is always interesting to see how a reader connects with a character or his/her situation.

Pastor Frailey shares that Joe Vanderson’s experience in The Offsite “includes elements similar to the Apostle Paul’s Damascus Road experience.”  (My mother, who taught The Bible for years in the San Francisco Bay Area, would beam with pride.)

The pastor summarizes with a call to his colleagues urging them to understand that servant leadership is key to their successful outreach and that they should consider using fiction such as The Offsite to drive that point home.

Pastor Henry Williams, senior pastor of Five Oaks Church in Woodbury, Minnesota wrote:

“Our staff leadership team read it in preparation for an all day Leadership Practices Inventory workshop we did.  We did a one-day off-site.  Our church's retired executives led the workshop using the LPI workshop guide and materials.  We did the LPI using the software and we're continuing to meet monthly to work on our improvement plans and check in with each other.  Great stuff.

I enjoyed your book and I think it helped people be ready to read their results.  Thanks for your work and interest.”

Whether corporate, government, civic, community charities or churches, people in all areas of life are using The Offsite as a means to reach out and share their vision.  What are you doing?

Begin your The Offsite Book Club today and keep me posted.  I love to hear how you’re doing.  Shoot me an email at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it