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Speaking of that . . .

The Source

Speaking of that . . . It will pop up somewhere in any published list of Top Ten Adult Fears. . . speaking in public. It often ranks higher on the terror chart than snakes and spiders and even death. I’m fearful of a great many things, but I guess the fear of speaking is one I’ve managed to duck. . that and the fact that I taught public speaking for 34 years. My philosophy was simple: most people are afraid of speaking in public because they don’t do much speaking in public. When I taught speech every class member got up to give a speech on the second day of class as they’d rise to introduce each other to the class. It was simple, it was fun, it was harmless, and best of all they’d taken a pretty good stab at their fear on the second day of class. If you do learn to speak well in public then you are guaranteed a lifetime supply of baked chicken, the favorite meal of banquet planners. I’m sure its somewhere in the book of Leviticus where God ordained that any time a group meets for a dinner, baked chicken must be on the menu. When Gin Fanning retired as head of the Chamber of Commerce I told her that at least now she could start eating something other than chicken. And speaking for these organizations holds its own thrills. I well remember a night when I was asked to give an after dinner speech for one of Jacksonville’s civic organizations. The chairman phoned me and said, “I guess any topic would be okay, but since you’ve traveled a lot how about speaking on traveling?” I told him that I could do that. Any public speaker has a handful of go-to speeches in his or her bag and “travel” was one I could pull out easily. When I arrived at the banquet hall they asked if I would please sit up front at the dais, the VIP table. I told them that I certainly would in hopes of getting baked chicken that was perhaps a bit fresher and not so dry. My place card was right next to a lady of at least 80 years duration and by the size of the diamonds on her hands I’d say that she’d buried several well-to-do husbands. All night long people would defer to her and refer to her as Miss Mildred. No last name, just Miss Mildred. I made several so-so attempts at conversation with Miss M, but it became obvious that I was annoying her while she was trying to eat. Actually, she wasn’t so much eating as pushing her food around her plate. Just before I was introduced she turned to me and asked who the night’s speaker was. Before I could answer she said, “I just hope to hell he doesn’t speak on travel. I’m tired of them damned travel speeches.” Ah life. When I finished my speech I took a seat at the other end of the table. Then there was the time at the old Jacksonville Holiday Inn when the program chairman was way behind so she asked me if I wouldn’t mind giving my speech while people were eating. This makes for a lively, attentive crowd. . . Would you please pass the rolls? Many moons ago I received a phone call asking me to speak to a group in Chicago. I rate driving in Chicago right up there with root canals and told the lady that I didn’t travel that far. She mentioned that her group paid a thousand dollars for their keynote speaker and I told her how much I loved driving in Chicago traffic. A thousand by-golly bucks! Heck yes, mama, I can do that. Actually, I avoided the traffic as a friend with a private plane took me to a small airfield in the suburbs and another friend picked me up in his plane. It’s good to have friends who fly. I gave the speech, they seemed to enjoy what I had to say, and then they told me that the treasurer of this organization would mail me my check. That’s not the preferred way to do things, but this was a very large nationally known organization for young people so I was sure they were good for it. At least I thought so. It has now been about thirty years and I still have not received my check. Every time I call or write the organization to plead my case I’m told that they are terribly sorry, the current officers have no knowledge of the event, and that they will promise to look into it and get back to me. Wrong. Thirty years. Not a word. Not a dime. Jacksonville has a chapter of this organization so I’ve tried to get my money starting at the local level. The current sponsor wasn’t even born when I gave the speech. Bummer. And I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I will never forget the introduction I was given while speaking to a nighttime convocation at Illinois College. The student master of ceremonies grabbed a tape dispenser and banged the Crispin Hall crowd to order then said, “Okay! Shut up! The sooner we start the sooner we can get out of here! Here’s Ken Bradbury.” Gosh. It’s great to be loved.