The Golden Era of Law & Order

For a couple of holiday seasons now, the one Christmas gift I’ve been wishing someone in my extended household would get me (but hasn’t yet) is the complete DVD compilation of Law & Order, the original franchise series.

Besides tying Gunsmoke for the record, longest-running TV series of all time, I think it is noteworthy because it was the perfectly-crafted, INTJ-targeted television show.

But, if I couldn’t have the whole series on DVD, then I’d have to pick the sequence of years when Jerry Orbach (detective Lennie Briscoe) was paired, first with Benjamin Bratt (det. Ray Curtis) and then with Jesse L. Martin (det. Ed Green).

I consider those the “Golden Years” of Law & Order.

Orbach, who was an accomplished theater performer and movie actor before he had a second career with Law & Order on TV, is the image of a committed-but-caring, wise-cracking-but-serious-about-getting-the-bad-guys, New York City detective – even if his portrayal bordered on farcical at times.

But, it is just that farce that helps make the show so weirdly enjoyable, for me.

Let me give you three brief scenes.

Nearly every show started with the initial crime, breaking for commercial just after the detectives briefly arrive on scene.  Invariably, Lennie would crack a wise one.

First scene, case in point:

Lennie’s partner, referring to a dead woman found in a hospital clinic: “She comes in for a biopsy and manages to get killed.”

Lennie: “I guess that’s why they call it managed care.”

Second scene:

A frequent foil for Lennie and his partners was the medical examiner Elizabeth Rodgers (wickedly, expertly played by Leslie Hendrix).  Here’s one of their exchanges.

They are talking in the medical examiner’s lab, nearby a victim on which the ME has been performing an autopsy.  The wall phone rings and the ME answers it and listens.  Then:

Med examiner: “Phone for you, detective.”

Detective, as he reaches for the phone and then suddenly pulls his hand back: “Is that brains?”

ME, pausing as she looks at her hand and then the phone that she’s still holding: “Egg salad, I think…”

Detective: “I’ll use the other phone.”

Finally, third scene – one of my all-time classics, with the dialog speed of a 30 Rock scene, again in the ME’s lab:

Lennie: “When can we get the final report, doc?”

ME: “Look, I’m busy. I got a body in the next room waiting to have a javelin removed from the chest.”

Lennie, dryly: “So… what made a nice girl like you get into this line of work?”

ME: “Free javelins.”

I know, I know – you probably saw that one coming.

In fact, I have no doubt that the appeal of the show was that most viewers thrived on that “I see it coming” element of the Law & Order plots.  A formula show, yes – the ultimate one, given its longevity and the fact that it still lives on, with differently titles variants, like Criminal Intent and Special Victims Unit.

There’s always next Christmas.

Professional Discretion: A Personal Reflection

I’m sitting on a plane returning to the US from Shanghai. As we were taxiing on the runway, this couple who obviously works in the same company, has begun to discuss personnel issues.

The man, who appears to be the superior to the woman, has begun to complain about information that she apparently shared with a colleague in another department.

“I don’t understand why you turned me in like that,” he said. “If we are going to build a different kind of culture, we’ve got to stick together and support each other,” he continued.

She seems slightly defensive, yet replied back to him with her point of view. I won’t include it here, tempting as it is, to avoid sharing embarrassment for the company and perhaps their colleagues.

The man has moved on to more philosophical HR topics with her – still specific about their company – about how decisions are made to target and lay people off.  He apparently deems the process arbitrary, capricious, and on the whole rather unfair. (Class action lawsuit, anyone?!)

Mind you, the guy isn’t whispering. He is speaking with a room-level voice, leaning across the aisle, because his colleague is in a seat across from him.

Since it is one of those transatlantic planes where the center seats are slightly staggered from the side seats and I’m sitting on the aisle directly behind the woman, we form something of an intimate, if unwanted, triangle.

I’m feeling like Harry Potter with his stealth cloak, standing right beside Snape or one of his cronies, conspiring some sort of dark, evil deed on Gryffindor.

They’ve kept going on so long that I’ve finally stuck my earbuds in, because we’ve taken off and reached sufficient altitude.

At least I can get some relief by listening to King’s X and drowning out the corporate dirty laundry being heaped in front of me – not to mention the other 15-20 people within two rows of easy earshot of the conversation.

Has something like this ever happened to you? A situation where you were in a very public place and two or more people started talking about what would generally be considered a confidential business matter?  Perhaps you were in the group.  Maybe you are one of the people that started or carried on the conversation.

In the age of public social networks and the generation of “always on” communications, it seems discretion has disappeared as a value that few, if any, of the American public, well… values(!) any more. And don’t get me started on the influence of reality TV!!

It hasn’t always been this way, at least not in the professional circles in which I’ve worked most of my life.

This summer, I celebrated the 30th anniversary of my first “real” job as a professional, when I started as a new-hire consultant in the Houston office of Arthur Andersen & Co.’s management information consulting division or MICD.

I had 7 job offers coming out of my MBA program at Texas A&M with AA&Co. offering the lowest starting salary. Yet, I took it for several reasons: the variety of projects, the outstanding career path to the partnership that all of the Big 8 firms offered (which few people ever stayed long enough to reach), but most of all the vaunted Andersen training.

From the moment you arrived at Andersen, you began your training, beginning with 3 weeks straight of 8 hours a day of Method 1 “Foundation” courses.

After that, you immediately shipped off to the Firm’s worldwide training center in St. Charles, Illinois, a suburb just outside of Chicago for 2 weeks of immersive, 16-hour days with other new hires from around the world. I found it completely invigorating.

A foundational driver of the training was equal parts professional training to the technical, skills-based training you received.

And, even though most of us in MICD were being groomed to be code-jockeys on systems integration projects rising up to eventually sell them (where you made the big bucks), every consultant got training in professional ethics and the basics of being an auditor.

This training included rather extensive readings, videos, and role-playing exercises on how to conduct oneself on behalf of the Firm.

Among the reading materials, as I recall, was a handbook written by the Firm’s namesake himself, Arthur Andersen. In it, he wrote of the near-sacred trust that the auditor assumes when he or she begins working on behalf of a client.

This trust included high ethical standards, among which were integrity, discretion, confidentiality, and generally conducting oneself  in the highest manner of loyalty, on which others could depend – others being your fellow “Androids” (as other Andersen co-workers and alumni re sometimes called), your family, your business associates, your friends, and most of all, your clients.

We role-played situations involving being discrete. We took tests about being discrete. Then, we watched each other’s backs when we saw Andersen colleagues potentially violating the ethos of discretion.

If you were in a hotel elevator with 1 or 2 colleagues discussing a matter – even if on trip away from the city to a training event – if someone not with the Firm got on, you stopped talking about the matter, or switched subjects.

There was no such thing as a “working lunch” in a public setting, meaning discussing client or other Firm matters at a local restaurant where people at the next table might overhear.

And you never – ever – discussed client business in an airplane, bus, train, subway, or any other public transport. It wasn’t done.

If you saw (or heard) it happening among any of your other colleagues – even if you didn’t know them – you were to counsel them, gently but firmly, to stop.

About the only time I encountered private or confidential information being shared in public was when there was a deep discussion about a particular issue being vetted.

In the process of crossing from a private location – say, a rental car – to a public location – say, the shuttle bus to the airport – occasionally the passion of wrestling with a topic would carry the conversation forward.

However, all it usually took was a nudge or a look, once someone realized the risk, and everyone immediately switched gears. That was it. No more talking – period.

To disregard these values was a major career inhibitor. (The great irony to all of this, of course, is the way in which AA&Co. suffered its demise at the hands of rogue partners in the Firm’s Houston office who aided and abetted the Enron debacle – ultimately, receiving a corporate death penalty vis-a-vis a felony criminal indictment for the Firm’s actions.)

I left many years before that, in the mid-80s, to begin my path as a start-up entrepreneur.  Likewise, the consulting partners of the Firm “left” their audit and tax brethren to form Andersen Consulting, later renamed to Accenture, now a global, management consulting giant.

I suspect some of the early partners who were around when the split happened still get down on their knees every night to say prayers of thanks for the vision, if not profound lucky break, from which they benefited by going their own way.

But, I have great fondness for my time at the Firm. I learned a lot. I transitioned from being a college kid in a three-piece suit to an experienced professional.

And I met some fantastic people who shaped my business persona. Many of them, I’m fortunate to say, are still colleagues with whom I stay in touch, with a smaller handful among my closest professional partners, still to this day.

One thing’s for sure, while today’s indiscrete public ethos has likely lowered my guard a bit, I doubt you’ll ever  hear me talking in public about what my business partners or clients are doing …that is, unless I want you to know about them. If you do, nudge me – the ghost of Arthur Andersen will do the rest!

Now, let me get back to that couple’s discussion on the plane. Yes, they are still at it.

In fact, the guy has written out a whole list of employees by name on a sheet of paper that is plainly visible, with different categories of assessment.

(Here’s a picture I took – I tried to be discrete when taking it.)

Art is a Journey

Ok, I can’t help myself; I have to start this post with the punch line, spoken by one of the principals at a Westlake framing shop when she said: “this will be a real treat; I’ve never framed a Warhol before.”

This is the second half of my little story about some recent artwork acquisitions. Last time, I told the story of MJ McCabe and her gift. This time, I have the brief stories of the Warhol shopping bag and the museum in a book.

Warhol. Who doesn’t know him? (This photo was taken at the Modern in Ft. Worth.)

The man was the prototype for a new era of celebrity, famous for being famous.

He was an absolute creature of his time and, like him or not, his body of work is an essential part of the post-modern period in which he lived and created.

So, here’s the story. My wife and I were at a pre-Christmas holiday gala for Eremos, a small spirituality-focused non-profit with an intensely loyal group of friends and supporters. Like many such events, Eremos had a silent auction to raise money for the organization, with a generous array of donated personal services, books, travel vouchers, household furnishings, jewelry, and more.

Perhaps because of the unique nature of Eremos itself, I noticed several of the donated items were equally unique, as I browsed around from table to table. There were some interesting mixed media lamps, some unusually shaped, handmade tea sets, and then there was this unassuming shopping bag lying on a table off by itself, with a note placed beside it.

I was intrigued. The design on the bag was plainly one of the Campbell’s soup can images by Warhol – the everyday and mundane, celebrated as art and now recognizable worldwide, likely for eternity.

Here’s what the note beside it said: “For a Warhol exhibition in October 1966 at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston, a number of these shopping bags were printed. The number of prints in the edition is unknown. This particular bag was given to me as a Christmas present in 1969 or 1970. The bag has experienced some modest wear and tear over the years. I’m hopeful it will find a good appreciative home.”

Sold! (For $200, no less.) Ironically, we paid fifty percent more for the framing, than we did for the bag. Somehow, I think Warhol would have liked that.

The second story is much less impressive than the actual object itself. While browsing one of my daily, somewhat eclectic RSS feeds, I ran across a listing for a book called, simply, “The Art Museum.” What caught my attention was its description as the literal “museum in a book.”

At first, as I read the description, I thought they were talking about a unique, adult-targeted pop-up book. I imagined one of those children’s pop-up books, but with different museum galleries composing the pop-up pages, with tiny versions of the great masters, adorning the pop-up walls.

As I searched for it on Amazon, I learned from the reviews that it wasn’t a pop-up. Instead, the “museum in a book” billing came from the fact that it is quite literally the largest, commercial fine art book produced.

An ambitious project, it was intended to provide high quality images of every type of art from every period of history, ever. The end result is massive – the book weighs 17 pounds and is 1′ x 1’4″ and 3″ deep. It is akin to the champion, oversized pumpkin in the county fair, dwarfing the other pumpkins by 5-10 times in size.

It’s not for everyone. Homes with little kids would end up with lots of torn and smudged pages in no time – which might be fine, if your family is okay with that.

My attitude is that art, contrary to the impression that some museums project, doesn’t have to be some kind of vacuum-packed, sterilized set of visual and sculpted relics that are unapproachable.

So, in that spirit, the museum-in-a-book now lies open on a table that is one of the first things you see when you walk into our home. We want everyone – young and old – to enjoy it, linger over it, and find something that makes a lasting connection with them.

Turns out, art is as much about the process of connecting as it is anything else. That’s one of the things I’ve come to find, as we’ve acquired these few art works. Art is as much a journey as it is a destination – just like most everything else in life.

There’s the “thing” – the end creation, the painting, the tapestry, the musical score, the play. Then, there’s the story behind the thing – how it came into being as it took shape in the artist’s hands, what was happening when it was created, who the people were that influenced and supported the artist, and finally how the work itself came to arrive where it is now…in front of you. Just like this blog.

Art is a Gift

Let me begin by saying I’ve never been an art collector. An admirer, yes. In fact, it was my admiration that compelled me to jump into the world of creative arts non-profit boards over a year ago.

I had decided to take some time off from work and get reconnected in the community. An area that I’d never served was the arts and, fortunately, the chance presented itself for me to join the board of governors of the Austin Museum of Art (AMOA).

Serving on the Board was a thrill, even during a turbulent time in late 2010. I completed an unexpired term, during a time that immediately preceded AMOA’s change in leadership in the spring of 2011 and eventual merger with Arthouse, punctuated by executive director & CEO Dana Friis-Hansen’s resignation.

But, as so often happens, when one door closes, another opens. And, with my AMOA Board tenure, the door that opened was the introduction to Dana, his partner Mark, and a great many fantastic people who are engaged in creating and supporting art in Austin and around the world.

If you’ve followed my writing, then you’ve read my reviews of ArtPrize. It’s as impressive an example of the depth of artistic energy and breadth of contemporary art as one could find anywhere in the world. And it’s all staged, believe it or not, in the modest, Midwest town of Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Which brings me back my opening statement about collecting. Because, during the long weekend adventure to the 2011 ArtPrize, I took an oh-so-modest first step towards collecting art. ArtPrize was the source of the first of three recent acquisitions, whose stories I want to briefly share.

During the many walking and driving tours we took at ArtPrize of personal collections in homes, museum exhibits, and overflow venues brimming with original works, we made a stop at the studio of Chris Laporte and MJ McCabe.

Chris’s work, “Cavalry, American Officers, 1921,” was the 2010 ArtPrize grand prize winner. You’d be hard-pressed to find a more modest, welcoming man than Chris…in some ways the epitome of the iconic, understated Midwesterner.

Yet, hearing him describe his art, what quickly emerges from beneath that Midwest demeanor is a passionate, burning spirit for exploring the soul of his subjects, as well as a beguiling, boyish charm that infuses each of his characters. Chris’s description of his creative process for his works was fascinating.

The bonus? Meeting his partner MJ! I can only describe her art as a powerful, beautiful combination of innocence and terror that I absolutely loved. MJ herself hits you as a rare mix of sweetness and power that is 100% authentic – she’s like a female Sugar Ray Leonard of painting.

Her subjects were vivid, rough, sensual, colorful, and damaged – damaged as in children, men, and women projecting hurt, bewilderment, rejection, and an impoverishment of hope that strips them bare to the observer. Yet, through that stripping away, MJ manages to show the dignity of humanity in us all, with brush strokes and perspective.

Needless to say, we became immediately fond of the two of them. Delightfully, as it turned out, Chris and MJ had planned to travel to Austin within weeks and we quickly made plans to go out one evening.

When they made it to Austin, with Chris being a big-time sushi fan, we of course made our way to Uchi. It was a marvelous evening! We let Chris order and it was like having a kid in a candy store. Between him and the always awesome Uchi wait staff, we enjoyed a bountiful series of creations that were their own form of art – it was a real celebration.

It was hard to break up the party, but after goodbyes and hugs, we wished them well to enjoy a few more days of Hill Country touring, before they headed home to Michigan

A couple of weeks later, we received a “thank you” email from MJ and a mysterious warning “to keep an eye out for a package” coming in the mail.

The inset photo, my friends, is what showed up. Just as the pictures in the highest quality art books or displays on the highest resolution monitors can never replace the experience of standing before a great work of art, likewise my little iPhone photo doesn’t nearly do justice to the work that MJ sent.

What a gift! It’s a real treasure, as much because of the story and people behind it, as it is because of its beauty. We’re happy to have it as an enduring presence in our household that we hope many will have a chance to see.

Next time, I’ll share a couple of shorter, fun stories about two other art items recently acquired.

The People of ArtPrize

Last week, I wrote about our “art adventure” weekend at ArtPrize 2011 (www.artprize.org) and how terrific our time was. However, upon re-reading my post, I noticed that the qualities I wrote about were about my experience interacting with the art. But, if I left it at that, I’d only be sharing half of the experience.

Because, fully half of the experience was interacting with the people – the artists, the patrons, the gallery owners, the museum staff, the non-profit volunteers, the general public, the supporting business owners, our fellow art adventurers (several in puppet hand photo, at Calder sculpture), and many many more.

Here are a few qualities that captured the spirit of the people of ArtPrize:

Zest – the members of the adventure group we toured with during the week had such a wonderful zest for art and life. They included several of the artists with the Mona Lisa project (in photo, right), and numerous others with whom we struck wonderful friendships – Jose’ and Carmen, Effrain, Craig and Sally, and more!

Nowhere was the zest better captured than a magnificent dinner at Café Tre’ Cugini, where the party closed the place down with dancing among the tables accompanied by the house accordionist.

Hospitality – there were so many examples of hospitality: Dana and Mark our tour hosts, who opened their homes and lives to us; Jeff at the UICA (photo, gray sweater), who toured us throughout the building complex and spent enormous amounts of time with us during an unbelievably busy time for him; the hotel staff at the City Flats, where we stayed.

Then, there was the director, staff and volunteers at Meijer Gardens who were just fantastic; and, not to forget, the chairman of the board of the GRAM, Sam Cummings and wife, who hosted a reception for our group at his home that was a real treat!

Passion – when surrounded by art, one can’t help but be struck by the passion of the artists. Two examples that have especially stayed with me symbolizing this passion were Ezra and Jen of the Grand Rapids artist’s coop, and Philip and Mark of SiTE: LAB.

Ezra gave us an amazing, first-person tour of the city’s revitalization of its artist’s district, all the while describing the myriad programs that artists, businesspeople and organizations, the local universities, and civic leaders were devising to make Grand Rapids a strong attractor for the arts.

Jen, who managed the coop store (photo, on r), was the acknowledged force behind the fight that won many of the gains that artists had made. Ezra’s passion and Jen’s strength of conviction for the economic rights for artists to have a place to work, live and prosper were very inspiring.

Philip and Mark (center, in photo below) treated us, quite literally, to a nearly hour-long VIP tour of their SiTE:LAB installation – big art with an even bigger impact, over-taking a 3 story building, from basement through to roof – which I thought was spectacular, provocative, breath-taking, punk, joyful, enigmatic, and beautiful all in one.  (SiTE:LAB was my favorite of the week.)

They worked their asses off for weeks, prepping the site, then working with the artists, then managing the facility during the ArtPrize run. When we were with them, you could tell they were tired, about spent in fact.

But, once they started talking about their vision and, in particular, the artists’ works, you could just see them become re-energized, the passion for the art just shining through – it was so great!

Generosity – lastly, I’d be remiss without a word of tribute to the individuals, families, and companies that have made generous gifts and investments in the promotion of natural and man-made works of art in the greater Grand Rapids area.

There are many, but just a few of the cornerstone names we came to know during our trip were the Wege family (key patrons of the GRAM), the Meijer family (key patrons of the gardens), Rick Devos and his extended family (sponsoring patrons of the ArtPrize),  and Steelcase corporation, whose faithful restoration of the Frank Lloyd Wright house is an important and graceful contribution to American art and architecture.

But, there was another kind of generosity worth note as well.  One of spirit, perhaps best captured by the dynamic duo of Chris Laporte and MJ McCabe. Chris won the ArtPrize in 2010 and he, and his partner, MJ, have made a point of paying forward their acclaim, by generously spending time with others.

They opened their studio to our group, they accompanied us on some of our touring, and Chris also met with us to talk about the process and background of his winning piece, which you see in the picture. (I’ll talk more about MJ and Chris in a future post.)

So, there you have it…that’s the “other half” of ArtPrize – the people. In some cases, people with means; in other cases, people with motive; but, in every case, people with much to be both proud of and thankful for in terms of a uniquely public explosion of art that I hope survives and thrives for many years to come!

If you’d like to see more, then please browse my ArtPrize 2011 photo set on Flickr!