Blues, running
July 7, 2009
Yes, there was a time when this title would have been about a New Orleans footrace. But today it’s about bluefish in a feeding frenzy.
This was one of those mornings that I wanted to change up the daily walk routine. Yesterday I’d missed the moment of sunrise because I was behind a hill and some trees; Nick had mentioned on Sunday morning that the sunrise had been beautiful at the crest of Asylum road next to the North Burial Ground, so today I took the camera and walked from the Coggeshall Farm entrance up to the burial ground.
As it turned out, there was a bank of clouds that obscured the sunrise and kind of changed the timing of the coloration of the sky, so things were interesting and beautiful but not spectacular. Harrumph.
But there was this kind of feeling that there must be something happening out there that had nagged me into bringing the camera out and changing my route. So I went back by the marsh where the heron and the egrets hang out, pretty sure that I’d catch them there. They had been there yesterday when I didn’t have the camera, so I anticipated the possibility of a heron shot or two.
And sure enough, there he was. But too close to the edge of the road to really let me get both close and unobstructed. An egret hung about for a bit but got spooked and flew off. So, a little bummed out, I took my heron shots, hoping that I could get a shot of him as he flew off – it’s usually just a matter of time before he tires of my stalking him.
A sound of waves behind me distracted me a little. It was a still morning and I couldn’t figure out what could have made waves in the harbor. But the sound was enough to make me miss the heron’s takeoff; I snapped off a shot as he circled to the harbor side, but all I got was the tip of a wing, out of focus, at the edge of the picture.
But just as I returned to my bummed-out state, I realized that the sound of waves was actually the sound of hundreds of bodies slapping the water as the bluefish worked their way towards me, chasing the menhaden into the shallows at the head of the bay.
Which, of course, made my day.
It made for a few minutes of novelty, bluefish bodies slapping the water (one’s body is visible in the foreground, above), seagulls hovering and wheeling to pick up a leftover tidbit, and one very busy cormorant (head visible to the left of the two seagulls on the left side of the picture). The egret even made a slow pass overhead but appeared to decide there was just too much going on to feel comfortable about going in low. Two fishermen on the seawall pulled in bluefish every time they cast.
Which, of course, totally vindicates my having hauled the camera along and changed my route. Except that I missed Nick who had come out to walk with me assuming that I would use my regular route. I told him it was all his fault anyhow for having told me about the sunrise Sunday morning.
Skeeball Wizard
June 30, 2009
Laurie took three tokens worth of practice Sunday night at the carnival on the town common. The crowd swirling around included the usual town suspects, clouds of teenage girls, swaggers of teenage boys, mothers struggling with strollers in the grass criss-crossed with electrical cables overlain with rubber doormats.
Last night we went back to the common and I got Laurie five tokens for Skeeball. In the 24-hour hiatus, she had apparently been thinking about her lack of success on Sunday when her high game had been 110 points. The minute the token fell and the balls were released, she went into her old-school stance and concentration, right arm holding the ball high in front of her while she visualized the coming launch of the ball.
Five balls snapped off in rapid succession, she waved to the attendant, pointed to herself and mouthed, “I won!” For which she received a rather tired nod, and in a brief consultation Laurie was told that she could only win twice – but if she did win again before she ran out of tokens, they would be repurchased.
Five more balls, 160 points, another win.
Two stuffed bears and three dollars were exchanged for the remaining three tokens and a most pleased smile broke out on Laurie’s face. She strolled the rest of the evening cuddling a bear in each arm.
Most satisfactory.
Coyote
June 17, 2009
Anti-quark
June 17, 2009
This is Ed, who walks the opposite way ’round from me in the morning. Like the two cartoon sheepdogs clocking out: “Mornin’ Ed.” “Mornin’ Ed.” Only twice, since we walk in overlapping loops.
We can tell ourselves apart because I’m the one with the faux hip, he’s the one with the pacemaker…or, wait a minute, is that right?
Photo: Poppasquash Road, Bristol, RI, June 17, 2009 around 5:30 a.m. Saved at 1920 by 1200 pixels.
Kick as kick can
June 3, 2009
For those of us who witnessed the appearance, grotesque growth and eventual death of the tail-fin and the disappearance of the Packard Motor Car Company in the 1950’s, General Motor’s current woes are brilliant irony.
Behind the scenes as the tail-fin craze initiated by the 1948 Cadillac reached its high-water mark with the 1957 Chrysler Corporation product line (“Suddenly, It’s 1960!”), Harley Earl and his GM design center created a monster. The monster appeared innocent enough and delivered handsome benefits to the corporation. GM’s divisions could share basic sheet metal and differentiate themselves with design variations that altered only a part of the car.
In 1954, my brother and I bought a 1949 fastback Chevrolet whose body – not counting trim and the tail fins on the rear fenders – was essentially the same as that year’s Cadillac fastback. It became the practice to create, say, a half-dozen body styles and then share them across the five GM brands. This (because of selective sharing) would result in perhaps 20 to 24 base models for GM, giving them plenty of variety to offer the public through the dealers of their five brands.

1949 Cadillac and Chevrolet fastback sedans Cadillac: http://www.flickr.com/photos/exfordy/2677732259/ Chevrolet: http://www.automotivehistoryonline.com/1949%20Chevrolet%20Fleetline.jpg
The Packard Motor Car Company, which (1) had never done their designing in-house, (2) was still preoccupied with making aircraft engines for the government, and (3) because of the pressures of the Depression had pushed the lower limits of their model prices below $1000 while trying to maintain a prestige, elitist image, suddenly had to compete with GM’s definition of automotive style. They reacted slowly, finally achieving a model that gained good consumer acceptance in the 1950 model year.
Unfortunately for them, the lack of integration between outside designers and Packard engineering caused considerable delay in getting the car bodies to “fit” properly. Leaks and rattles abounded and deliveries were disastrously slow. The following year, due to the Korean conflict, steel was put on rationing and car companies could make no more vehicles than they had in the previous year. With their output constrained, Packard went belly-up and into the waiting arms of Studebaker Motors, which coveted Packard’s defense contracts but not their automobiles.
The ’50’s were, nevertheless, heady times for the US auto industry. Horsepower became a competitive factor in consumer decisions and the industry tried hard to induce increased consumer purchasing by radically changing each car’s exterior sheet metal every year from 1955 through 1959. This practice gave credence to the notion that US car manufacturers were practicing planned obsolescence, a term coined in 1954 by industrial designer Brooks Stevens to describe a method for speeding up the repurchase cycle through non-functional design changes.
Tail-fins were re-absorbed by automobile bodies at the beginning of the 1960’s, although Cadillac retained vestigial fins until the mid-60’s. This may have been a recognition by automakers that style changes alone could not accelerate purchases and signalled a switch to what became a three-year cycle for major changes to body style.
But because they are production-oriented, all US automakers shared common bodies across their brands, diluting the meaning of the individual brand names. Fords could be the size of Lincolns, Plymouths were essentially identical with Dodges; GM tried to establish a Cadillac compact car, the Cimarron, in 1981 by embellishing the same compact body used by other GM divisions, and tried it again in 1997 by re-purposing a body produced by GM’s German Opel division to create the Catera. In both instances, GM discovered that people really didn’t want cheapness disguised as luxury. (A good overview of GM body types over the years is available at Wikipedia.)
[Sharing bodies and other parts was so widely practiced that it came as a shock to me that Oldsmobile owners in the 1970's brought a lawsuit against GM because their vehicles had come with Chevrolet engines. GM then declared all engines as corporate rather than division "property."]
The GM brand in biggest disarray is Chevrolet. Chevrolet is the GM entry level brand, and to ensure that it keeps that position, GM has used its equity stake in the South Korean automaker Daewoo to obtain the car sold in the US as the Chevrolet Aveo (and, following the GM body-sharing model, the Pontiac G3) starting at $12,000. On the other end of the spectrum is the Corvette, selling for between $50,000 and slightly more than $100,000; the Corvette XR1 starts at $106,000.
[Some people might complain that Chevrolet is the name of a division, not a brand. But this ignores the fact that Chevrolet has always been quite (...wait for it,...wait for it...) cavalier* with respect to their model names, creating them, casting them away, and resuscitating them without regard to any possible "equity" attaching to them.]
[*Chevrolet Cavalier, 1982 - 2005; replaced Monza, replaced by Cobalt]
[If Chevrolet nurtured their models as brands I think I might have no argument. A quick review of Chevrolet's models gives an average age of 13 years; if the two oldest models - Corvette and Suburban - are removed from the list, the average age is something less than six years. When the average automobile repurchase cycle is somewhere around four years, a six-year model life suggests that few people will even have the opportunity to repurchase a satisfactory model. By contrast, the Chevrolet brand has been around for 98 years.]
In the spectrum of Chevrolet models, the large SUV entry is the Tahoe whose body is shared with the GMC Yukon and the Cadillac Escalade; the smaller large SUV is the Traverse whose body is shared with the Buick Enclave, the GMC Acadia, and the Saturn Outlook. In a class (“jumbo SUV,” according to Edmunds.com) almost by itself is the venerable Chevy Suburban (body shared with the GMC Denali X) with a price starting around $38,000. The fourth and smallest SUV entry for Chevrolet is the Equinox, also available as the Pontiac Torrent.
Chevy’s sedans come in many sizes, from the larger Impala down through Malibu, HHR and Cobalt, with the bodies shared with other GM divisions. Chevrolet has announced that the Cobalt model name – only about four years old – will be retired in favor of the Cruze model name in 2011.
Trucks, all duplicated in offerings by GMC, are the full line of Silverados and the compact Colorado (GMC Canyon). The “convertible” pickup/SUV Avalanche is echoed by the Cadillac Escalade EXT.
With minivans fading as a popular vehicle type, GM exited the US minivan market in 2009 after 20 years of relatively futile pursuit of the Chrysler market leaders. Models were shared by Chevrolet, Pontiac, and Oldsmobile; a Buick minivan (under the GL-8 model name) is currently available in China and apparently selling very well.
[Having owned one of the original GM "dust buster" minivans (the Oldsmobile Silhouette), it was my impression that GM stylists had never actually spent any time in or around the vehicle. A highly-touted feature, individually removable and re-configurable seats in the back two rows, required muscling around unwieldy 50-pound seats with claw-like feet. Access to the rear seats was awkward in the initial models, so when the snoutless revision to the body type was released in 1997 I was shocked to discover that the new models were just as difficult to enter as their predecessors. So I bought a Plymouth minivan...two moribund auto brands in a row.]
That leaves the 2010 Camaro as the final model on Chevy’s list, the re-introduction of the “personal” sports car that was GM’s initial response to Ford’s Mustang. The body is the GM Zeta body developed in Australia that in the US is only shared with the Pontiac G8 series (a sedan configuration). This time, however, there is no accompanying Pontiac Firebird, perhaps recognition that the more limited Pontiac distribution network would not deliver sufficient additional sales to warrant the design, execution and marketing expense of a variant for that brand.
On the horizon is GM’s electric car, the Volt, which will – at least in its initial incarnation – wear the Chevrolet bow tie. I would argue that this vehicle represents a unique branding opportunity, the establishment of a marque devoted to the best in green technology; an opportunity that will be squandered in order to leverage the Chevrolet dealership network and to leave open the possibility of a later Buick or Cadillac model. The fact that its entry-level price has crept all the way to $35,000+ before its actual introduction suggests a n0n-Chevrolet price point.
The point of this litany is to serve as preface to the idea that if you were to ask someone what the Chevrolet brand represented there could be no clear reply. “All things to all people, usually a little cheaper and less prestigious” might do. A good contrast can be made with Toyota’s Camry brand. If you say to yourself, “I want a Camry,” you have a good picture of what it is you’re after. If you say to yourself, “I want a Chevrolet,” you haven’t specified anything except that sort of gnawing suspicion that you don’t really want the best.
The Chevrolet division people are proud of the breadth of their product line and are aware of the identity problem that that causes. Their response, however, has not been to consolidate models but rather to “unify” their offerings by increasing the size and prominence of the Chevrolet “bow tie” emblems on the front and rear of their offerings.
Branding by labelling is a valid concept. It works well for things like jams and jellies. The uniformity of labelling assures us that each variety of Smucker’s products is of the same quality as the others. But even Smucker’s runs into problems when their name goes on a ketchup label: Different product, different process, different end use.
Back to the Packard Motor Car Company. They made their reputation as a luxury brand building sixteen-cylinder motors to create smooth-running vehicles. From 1920 to 1930, they tried to capture a lower tier of the market by introducing cheaper vehicles but they just didn’t understand how to do that. The vehicles ended up being bigger than the competition’s and Packard ended up charging more. Ironically, GM hired Harley Earl to come to Detroit and design the LaSalle, a brand created to allow GM to compete for that same lower tier without sullying the Cadillac brand (“LaSalle by Cadillac”).
When the Depression hit, Packard had no choice. Hiring GM managers, they shifted from job shop to production line methods and completely shook up the dealer network. They learned how to build cars cheaply and sell them for lower and lower prices. They eliminated their largest vehicles from regular production. (In the language of the times, they eliminated the “senior” chassis and built the top-of-the-line production vehicles on the “junior” chassis along with the rest of the line.) They continued to use the Packard brand, and by 1936 they offered cars at prices from $795 to $8,510, an extremely broad price range.
[An interesting issue is the sustainable price difference that a single brand can present from its lowest-priced offering to its highest-priced. A corollary question might be what price difference would be sufficient to differentiate a quality product from a commonplace product. Smucker's grape jelly commands a 33% price superiority over Shop and Stop's store brand. A Cadillac Escalade XLT commands a 60% increase in base price over a Chevrolet Avalanche. In light of these numbers, sustaining more than a 100% price difference across models of the Packard brand seems to be stretching the limit.]
The Packard brand came to compete with Plymouth, Chevrolet, and Ford. By the time the first post-war models were released in 1948 and 1949 Packard was no longer a luxury brand, but they did try to restart their competition with Cadillac. As recounted earlier, that struggle died before it was fully undertaken.
Chevrolet today tries to offer a range of cars, trucks, and SUV’s with starting prices from $12,000 to $106,000 and to tie them all together with a golden bow tie on the grille and trunk. Virtually all of its models are available from the same company at higher finish levels so it cannot compete on a claim of superiority. It’s a tough marketing job to compete on a claim of modestly-priced mediocrity. But it was apparently doable as long as the economy was buoyant.
Max Warburton at Bernstein Research says, “GM has always resorted to aggressive pricing. GM has been the leading exponent of oversupply, cheap financing and deflationary strategies.” In this conceptualization of the market, GM focuses on production and pushes its products into the marketplace by sustaining price disadvantages vis-a-vis its foreign competitors. The GM brand divisions are merely outlets for their production facilities and sales are achieved largely through price strategies.
Continuing his argument, Warburton says, “…the massive price disadvantage that GM and Chrysler suffer – with their small cars selling at US$3,000 below Honda/Toyota levels, their midsize SUVs US$6,000 below and their large cars selling for US$10,000 less. GM and Chrysler have a price problem more than a cost problem. This is a brand issue – and the brands won’t be fixed by Chapter 11.”
In marketer’s terms this would be a statement that GM’s brands have a negative equity position when compared with Honda and Toyota. And if Honda and Toyota are the competition, then the Chevrolet division must be the primary offender.
Warburton goes on to contend that GM and Chrysler are primarily (from a profitability viewpoint) light truck manufacturers and that the two companies should merge to produce (1) a single small front-wheel drive model, (2) a single minivan model, (3) a single mid-sized crossover or SUV model, (4) a single pickup model, and (5) a single rear-wheel drive large sedan.
The idea that GM (much less a merged GM-Chrysler company) should reduce itself to only five models is radical in the extreme. Cadillac would produce the large sedan, GMC would produce light trucks, Buick would produce the crossover/SUV, and Chevrolet would produce the small car: Since GM has given up minivans, that model would disappear from GM’s repetoire.
Given GM’s penchant for body sharing, perhaps the following lineup would be more realistic:
- Cadillac – Luxury large sedan, luxury SUV/crossover
- Buick – Value large sedan, value SUV/crossover
- Chevrolet – Small car (value through luxury), specialty cars (personal sports, sports, electric)
- GMC – Light trucks (pickups, vans, commercial use vehicles)
As Warburton points out, the deep problem at GM is a brand problem, and the solution to that problem requires a turning away from production and pricing as a basis for strategy and the adoption of strong branding. It is not likely that the current GM division hierarchy can adapt to this model.
It is, however, interesting to reflect on the lasting impact of Harley Earl’s centralized GM design center that hastened the demise of the Packard Motor Car Company (and other independent producers) and allowed GM to practice its production mentality right up until the day they filed for bankruptcy.
(Kick as kick can is obviously an oblique reference to “kick (him) while (he’s) down,” which – I guess – signifies that I recognize that I’m taking unfair advantage of a venerable US institution. But that Oldsmobile Silhouette really was a POS no matter how I tried to love it.)
David Letterman’s demographic problem
May 16, 2009
For many years I’ve taught a computer-based strategy simulation game, Markstrat, and I have required my students to prepare a presentation at the end of the course to demonstrate what they learned from the simulation. For many years I used a ponderous description of what I wanted from the presentation, suggesting all kinds of concepts that they might want to draw on for their ideas.
Probably ten or twelve years ago I felt that (1) the students weren’t having any fun because what they produced was so dry and drab that (2) I was bored out of my skull by the monotony of the presentations. I set out to correct the situation.
A new set of presentation instructions was issued, this one requesting that the students prepare a “Top Ten” list of things they learned from Markstrat, illustrated with whatever charts and graphs were appropriate, and that they make sure to balance humor and content. The presentation instructions include a link to David Letterman’s most recent “Top Ten” list and his “Top Ten” archive. For ten or twelve years, now, I’ve found it much more interesting to watch the presentations. And I think it gave me another dimension of the group’s performance to measure – something like “aptness of thought.”
Thoroughly unsuspecting, I sat down this year to receive the presentations. The first group went through an entirely humorless presentation with ten major slides detailing what they thought were the ten elements of the simulation that they had learned (“Understanding forecasting for production estimates”). Wow, I thought, I’m surprised that none of the other students in the room are muttering about how far off the mark this is.
As you can guess, the following five (!) groups all followed the same pattern as the first. No humor, no “Number 6 – Find out which side of his mouth the instructor is speaking from when he gives you advice.”
What makes this a little more difficult to understand is that I had six groups undertake the same assignment last December and all of them produced the intended tongue-in-cheek performance review. I am left to conclude that David Letterman has fallen off a demographic cliff, that the graduating class of this year’s college crop is clueless about his monolog and schtick.
Relative to newspapers announcing closings and TV networks scrambling to find revenue streams to keep their news organizations going this may be small potatos. But it doesn’t sound good for Mr. Letterman.
*****
The fog was thick on the harbor this morning. Formatted 1920 pixels by 1200 pixels.
Case in Point
May 8, 2009
No one has actually asked my why I go out to walk (or, in the old days, run) at 5 a.m. Today provided plenty of reasons.
The soft pre-dawn light lit the low ground mist around the Mill Gut, and I walked through a cascade of mist that flowed past the Coggeshall farmhouse, the ice house, and dissipated at the edge of the Gut.
At the top of Surprise Hill (runners find out why it’s called that, a seemingly innocuous rise that is actually a three to one ascent over 150 yards) I turn towards Narragansett Bay. In the half-light, a broad shallow vee of 90 to 100 geese approach from my left flying about three feet above the surface of the bay, heading towards Providence.
I was going to ask Ed, the teacher who is the anti-quark to my quark, walking my route the opposite way, if they had passed him as he rounded the end of the park. I saw him coming from about 3/8ths of a mile away, something not possible a month ago in the dark. Then I saw a big group of birds floating about 150 yards offshore and decided not to ask. Which, as it turned out, was too bad, because the birds on the water were gulls, not geese. Where the geese ended up remains unknown.
As I walk along the water, the sun is coloring the sky in the east, shining through the trees on the ridge line, oranges and yellows against the purples and mauves of the clouds and the light blue of the morning sky. A handful of small clouds above the sunrise shines with an intense yellow.
On the way up the hill to the defunct toll gates that mark the entry to the park I pass the five or six varieties of fruit trees that are blooming, each variety to its own drummer.
Joe, one of the other local geezers, has just broken into an easy jog as he approaches from the other direction. He stops and waits and we descend towards the head of Bristol Bay, congratulating each other on our good fortune to be out on such a glorious day. He breaks off and heads for town as I turn towards Poppasquash Point to return to where I parked the truck.
The salt marsh is greening now, and across from the Bristol Marina the weeping cherry I photographed a year ago is again lit by the rising sun. Nick, my former running buddy and now occasional walking partner, passes by in his Harley Davidson Edition Ford 250 and pauses long enough on his way to his spinning class to remark on the beauty of the morning.
Ed, the anti-quark, passes, each of us now headed in the opposite direction. Today our fifteen-word conversation remarks on the appearance of the sun after a week of clouds and rain. The conversation window is too short to adequately frame a question about the geese, so I let that go. The two donkeys are in the pasture across the road from the Bristol Yacht Club but the sheep haven’t made it out of the barn yet.
In the truck, I pass the Goose Lady on the way to Sip ‘n’ Dip. She’s the Goose Lady because for the last two years she’s chronicled geese in the early morning hours all around the top end of Bristol Bay. In the last six months she appears to have finally gotten enough goose pictures because she’s broadening her photographic interests to other fowl. The low, bright light of the sun makes the boat hulls on the harbor shine and sparkle, giving her a great background for whatever bird is in her sights this morning.
At Sip ‘n’ Dip the wait staff are carrying on patchy conversations in Portuguese. I draw an unfamiliar waitress and for the first time in months I have to repeat my order; medium black, no sugar. A medium coffee ordered without other qualifiers comes heavy on the cream and sugar. That and the ProJo (Providence Journal, now quite skinny) come to $2.97, up from yesterday’s $2.86. Next week I’ll find out if it’s a price increase or simply the new waitress.
* * * * *
I park the truck just the other side of this stone fence. The yellow blossoms of the weeds seem to float above the surface of the pasture. Taken Sunday, May 3rd and formatted 1920 pixels by 1200 pixels. Click for full view and download.
Ah, priceless wisdom
April 29, 2009
What is the importance of market share to a public relations campaign?
Can you please explain this to me.
Thanks!
A***** *********
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry (Student technology > faculty technology)
I almost forgot…Easter scenes
April 14, 2009
Dunkin’ Donuts is to Rhode Island what La Boulangerie or Leidenheimer’s is to New Orleans. New Orleans is probably the French bread capital of the United States; Rhode Island is most definitely the fried dough capital of the United States and – by cholesterol-laden extension – of the universe. New Orleanians remember the drawn-out demise of Tastee Donuts in New Orleans which preceded the brief success and decline of the Krispy-Kreme presence. Alongside these two chains, the Northeast’s champ, Dunkin’, put up a pretty good showing; at last count there were still two Dunkin’ Donuts outlets in New Orleans (the Metro area, not Orleans Parish).
But here in Rhode Island (there are statistics, by the way, that substantiate the claim about fried-dough consumption), the road to anywhere is paved with Dunkin Donuts, Honey Dew Donuts, Sip ‘n’ Dip Donuts, even the Canadian upstart Horton’s trying to invade this paradise of saturated fat. The eight-mile trip from our condo to Laurie’s former place of work afforded us at least ten different donut opportunities directly on the route of travel, including four Dunkin’ outlets.
So it was not unusual that Sunday saw me visit the closest Dunkin’ outlet (two blocks…it is just barely closer than the Sip ‘n’ Dip which is three blocks away) on the way back from my walk and getting the Sunday papers at Pik ‘n’ Pay. As I headed for the condo, swinging off State Street onto Thames, two substantial wild turkeys came right down the middle of Thames street towards me. They were walking on the yellow centerline, so I decided the best thing was to yield (I don’t know if Rhode Island has rules of the road applicable to turkeys). Striding confidently down the road, the two veered to their left without signaling and entered the parking lot belonging to the US Post Office, their black feathers glistening with a green and purple sheen. Oddly triangular bodies, propelled on substantial drumsticks.
I drove on without finding out what business brought them to town on Easter morning. Perhaps it was simply flaunting their presence on a holiday that they could feel confident about surviving.
And to think that I saw it on Mulberry Thames Street!
The image below is from a walk through Providence’s College Hill on Palm Sunday.









