Just tell your audience, 'Sit!'

As I've said before, one of the more important qualities of any presentation is tone. It should be appropriate to the material and used in a way that focuses attention on the key points.

But nowhere is tone more important than in training a puppy - like Manny (short for Manicotti) the 6-month old mixed breed our daughter brought from Chicago on her visit home. An obedience school graduate, he's learned a number of commands such as sit, stay, leave it, and drop it. But he responds as much to the sound of your voice as to the words.

Just as for an audience, what really gets Manny's attention is tone.

The next voice you hear ....

Those who listen to National Public Radio on a regular basis no doubt are aware of the end-of-year retirement of Carl Kassell, longtime news announcer for Morning Edition.

I'm sure he is a fine man but, frankly, I won't miss his voice. To me the deep tone is not so much authoritative as it is ponderous.

Besides, it's an anachronism. At the dawn of radio when the devices were primitive, an announcer had to have a voice that could cut through the static and actually reach the listeners' ears. That resonance became the gold standard. One even wonders if Edward R. Murrow, Walter Cronkite and other media giants would have achieved their status with voices of higher pitch.

Tone of voice certainly has been a problem for women. In addition to outright discrimination, the difficulty that female announcers had in breaking into the news business had much to do with the perception that their voices lacked a certain gravitas. Today, fortunately, among those who have been sharing the announcer's booth at NPR with Carl Kassell are Nora Raum, Korva Coleman and Jean Cochran.

I readily admit that many people would disagree with my critique of Kassell's delivery and consider his a classic voice for broadcast. On the weekly Wait! Wait! Don't Tell Me! quiz program, where he continues as "Official Judge and Scorekeeper," the prize is to have his voice on the winner's answering machine or cell phone.

But I'd rather hear speakers who can modulate their voices, adding interpretation to their words and making key points stand out from the rest. And that goes for presentations by those in business and elsewhere.

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The Cleveland market has its share of professionals with deep but well-modulated voices, including Joe Cali, Jim Kisicki and Mike Kraft. Several years ago I was part of a video industry organization meeting on the deck of the William P. Mather museum freighter when a sudden storm struck. Over the howling wind I thought I heard the voice of God behind me: "Don't worry. It will be all right." I turned around. It was Cali.

Memo to Barack Obama

With only days left before your inauguration, I thought it might be helpful if I summarized the keys to effective speechmaking.

Nervousness. Don't look at me that way. I know you've presented at heated community meetings, spoken on the floor of the Senate and made innumerable appearances during the longest election campaign in history. But as President of the United States you can have an immediate impact on world events with everything you say. You're bound to be keyed up -- God, I hope you'll be keyed up -- so turn that tension into energy.

Delivery. Your predecessor never varied his approach: He would deliver a sentence, pause for exactly 3 seconds, deliver another sentence in exactly the same tone, pause again, and so on. He or his handlers may have thought it presidential. In broadcasting they call it dead air. You can do better. Change your pace, your tone of voice and your body language to emphasize the key points in your message.

Preparation. Whether you or your speechwriters draft it, read every statement several times aloud, including your own edits. This will help ensure your speech is written for the ear. Besides, you're not riding in coach anymore so there's no one to bother.

See other helpful hints in my speechwriting primer at left. And good luck.

An audience of 12 (plus one alternate)

As a "writer for the ear" I found jury duty last week fascinating for its revelation of the judicial process where the spoken word is crucial.

I was empanelled in a criminal trial (breaking and entering) in which both prosecuting and defense attorneys used some familiar techniques in presenting their arguments.

The lead attorney for the state sought to identify with her audience, adopting a chatty style during the voir dire and leaning on the side rail of the jury box in questioning witnesses, just like a friendly neighbor.

On the other hand, counsel for the defense employed a more formal manner in addressing the court and that included his body language. Every time he rose to address the judge, a witness or the jury, he quite deliberately closed the top and middle buttons of his suit coat. I'm sure this had less to do with covering up his slight paunch than with telling us, "This is a serious matter. I respect the process and especially you the jurors."

The closing arguments displayed other oratorical principles, such as the State's effort to "tie the knot." In the voir dire the lead attorney had defined "beyond reasonable doubt" by adapting the story of the missing cookies and the child with chocolate on his face. Now her colleague ended with, "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, clearly the defendant has chocolate on his face."

Even the defense attorney had to smile. Then he rose and buttoned one last time for his summation, following the dictum, "If you can't argue the facts, argue the law." The State's case rested largely on the log generated by a law enforcement GPA device hidden on the defendant's car that placed him at the scene of the crime. Counsel briefly challenged the evidence - "It may tell us where he was but not what he was doing" - but obviously sought more ammunition. So he looked gravely at each juror and asked in an ominous tone, "How do you feel about the government's ability to track your every move?"

The argument was obviously extraneous and the judge said afterward that had it been raised during the trial he would have ordered it stricken. But it was a nice try and now it was the prosecution's turn to smile.

Then the jury retired and before long delivered the verdict: guilty.

Can they hear you?

Have you ever noticed how politicians and other speakers remain locked in an earlier era – the one before amplified sound was invented? They deliver every statement at full volume, emphasizing every word, so that in the end they emphasize nothing.

At the other extreme are speakers who assume the presence of a microphone automatically means they'll be heard by everyone. Maybe, maybe not.

Amplified sound enables us to speak in a more conversational tone and establish a more personal connection with individual members in the audience but only if properly used, which means –

Get close to the microphone!

Some venues equip speakers with clip-on mics positioned a few inches below the mouth, but most rely on podium mics. Depending on the size of the podium (too high, too low, too deep) and the size of the speaker (too short, too tall), the message a speaker has worked so hard to craft may never reach the audience.

If possible conduct a test with your host ahead of time – although remember that as the room fills up those bodies will absorb some of the sound. If necessary, take the mic off its stand and hold it in your hand. Think “lounge singer.” Think “rap artist.” Think “bingo caller.”

Remember, even the best speakers can’t “tell ‘em” if the audience can’t “hear ‘em.”


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As technology advances, we’re beginning to rely more on sensors than our senses. Computers speak to us and listen to our replies. Robots navigate by sight and touch. There’s even one that dances to music! … But does it also get acne?

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For more basics, see Writing for the Ear: a Primer in the left-hand column.