Shut up already

I knew nothing in 1996 about running for public office. Absolutely nothing. I knew I was a Republican, and that was a rarity in Houston County and Georgia at the time. I figured out how to run for office and qualified, but I had no plan.

I rounded up my closest friends and each one agreed to serve on my campaign committee. They were great but I was clueless, especially about public speaking.

When you first run for office, you think people want to hear you talk. And maybe they do. What they don’t want is for the candidate to drone on and on. And I did. It was horrible in retrospect, but it was what I thought people wanted. No one said anything until finally a political operative, who’s name I have forgotten, told me I was a bore. 

He was offering to help me, and I realized it. His advice was to have a 10-second spiel for a sidewalk encounter, a 30-second spiel for a friendly encounter, and a three-minute speech for a political crowd.

You can say a lot in 10 seconds, but mostly you ask for their vote. In 30 seconds you can hit three solutions to issues and ask for their vote. In a three-minute speech, you can give a civics lesson about why you are the candidate for the office. By preparing for each speech, it makes a candidate focus on the issues and their solutions. So I worked hard on employing that approach.

Early in my campaign, my “speech” grade was an F. “F” as in Failed! But by the end of the race, I was at least a solid B. Self-grading is best through rose-colored glasses.

To anyone who endured my excessive pontificating, I sincerely apologize. If you voted for me despite my excessive pontificating, God bless you.

Anyone who is a newbie running for office—if I get the chance—I tell them about the 10-second, 30-second and three-minute rules. I never criticize what they are doing, I just offer the advice I freely received and which, at least to me, seems just as valid today as it was 29 years ago.

Kelly Burke was born in Knoxville where he spent his younger years, followed by high school years in Atlanta where he graduated from Georgia Tech, and then graduated from Mercer Law School. He has been in private practice, a magistrate judge, and an elected district attorney. He writes about the law, politics, music, and Ireland. He and his wife enjoy gardening, playing with their Lagotto Ramanolo named George Harrison, and spending time with their grandchildren.