Burnham’s Tack on Winning Is a Mastery of Manipulation

I had a nice lunch Thursday at the Hall of Champions in Balboa Park. It was French food, typically hard to identify but delicious nevertheless.

The folks at the Hall of Champions hope to make this a monthly affair, an opportunity for Joe and Jo Public to sit down and listen to a topical speaker. For example, they had Eugene V. Klein, noted author, in March and hope to have Larry Bowa, rookie Padre manager, in May.

April’s entree was Malin Burnham, noted yachtsman and Sail America syndicate president.

I didn’t like the taste of what Burnham offered.

Since Dennis Conner and Stars & Stripes brought the America’s Cup to San Diego, Burnham has been in demand hereabouts as a speaker. After all, as syndicate chairman, he has been a rather high-profile spokesman throughout the campaign. One of the fellows sitting next to me had heard him the previous week.

By now, Burnham probably has a selection of talks in his repertoire. You don’t hit high school students with the same pitch you throw at high rollers, right?

Thursday’s speech did not deal with the America’s Cup racing itself or the exhilaration of the aftermath or what President Reagan had to say at the White House. This chat would deal with support teams, such as meteorology, sail-making, security and public relations.

I choked on the public relations.

“This was important,” Burnham said, “because we wanted to keep the crew’s spirits up.”

Indeed, this was a noble intention. It was to be applauded, because the Stars & Stripes team--75 strong, including meteorologists, sail makers, security guards and public relations experts--was stuck for many months in an isolated little corner of the world down in Fremantle, Australia.

Burnham explained that public relations entailed having the locals feel good about the Stars & Stripes team and keeping the folks back home aware of such things as, well, the funds needed to keep the yacht afloat.

To accomplish that, Burnham said, he did a masterful job of, in essence, manipulating the press. Gasp. The chocolate mousse cake lodged in my throat, no longer as sweet as it had been.

Why?

Because Stars & Stripes did not seem as sweet as it had been.

Mind you, everyone in the public eye likes to think he or she manipulates the press in some manner or another. Football coaches are always trying to create a deceiving impression in their pregame oratory. Politicians do the same. Corporations hire experts in such matters. Steve Carlton has always done it in a different way.

The thing about Burnham’s disclosure was that they made it seem that all of the sugar and sweetness emanating from the Sail America camp was choreographed and calculated, like when to tack and when to change sails.

In fact, he mentioned a couple of occasions that received very favorable press both in Australia and here. One was opening the Sail America compound to youngsters for a sort of Y’All-Come-and-See-What-Nice-Blokes-We-Yanks-Can-Be Open House. And the other was when Conner took an Australian newspaper boy for a ride on Stars & Stripes.

These were not just spontaneous gestures of good will? I suddenly felt like lunch had been sweet-and-sour bologna . . . or baloney.

Imagine how pleasant the Aussies would have been if they had known Stars & Stripes was being board-room nice? How many American flags would have been waving from the jetty?

Burnham further explained that he had used the controversy over New Zealand’s fiberglass hull to create a mistaken sense of security in the Kiwi camp.

“As long as we were protesting,” he said, “it gave them the feeling that they must be faster than us.”

The manipulated press dutifully reported the controversy, probably extending it beyond its natural life. Burnham, of course, had planted these seeds. Comfortable with their speed, the New Zealanders went out and got whipped by Stars & Stripes.

Burnham also cited media reports that Sail America was $4 million short of the funds it needed to successfully complete the campaign. He said that was the product of having been cooperative with the media.

The bottom line, as I look back on the luncheon, is that the manipulation has not ended. The folks were being manipulated as they finished their desserts.

Aware that the first question from the audience would be about where the 1990-91 defense would be held, Burnham smoothly explained that Sail America had gone national in its quest for funds. He said that, otherwise, it would not have been successful.

“USA raised all of its money in Northern California,” he said, “and I think they lost because they didn’t have enough horsepower.”

In this case, horsepower translates to funding. The other U.S. syndicates all got their funding from what Burnham called parochial bases.

The message here is that Sail America’s allegiance is to all of America, from sea to shining sea. Sharing the glory, he said.

Consciences were being chastised and subconsciouses, to my thinking, were being manipulated. Sail America has to be fair to everyone, except maybe the Australian kid who thought he was so special because he got to ride on Stars & Stripes.

Another fellow at my table might have put the whole scenario in its most true perspective.

“Dennis Conner’s hardly ever here, anyway,” he said, “so it probably doesn’t affect him. But I don’t see how Malin Burnham can live here if the Cup is defended anywhere else.”

If Burnham should get that message, would it be called manipulating the speaker?