The Byline Group : MARS, the Mexican Earthquake, and My Magical Mistake

MARS, the Mexican Earthquake, and My Magical Mistake

By Eric Swartz

In 1985 I was a marketing manager at a large telecommunications company. As part of my roster of duties, I was in charge of a program which enabled thousands of military personnel stationed overseas to call home to their loved ones during several pre-approved holidays - absolutely free. At the time, it was the only public service program of its kind offered by a long-distance telephone company.

Thanks to the tireless efforts of MARS (the Military Affiliate Radio System), a network of dedicated amateur, professional, and military radio operators, service personnel from all branches of the U.S. military could stay in touch with their families - whether on active duty in South Korea, Lebanon, Grenada, or even aboard an oceangoing vessel. Calls originating from overseas operators were transmitted via Military Network Radio to participating stateside MARS operators, who then patched the call via a coupler over my company’s domestic network.

My role was to issue an authorization code to my main MARS contacts in the U.S. Navy, Army, and Air Force, establish the duration of the program, and promote it via the national newspaper press, in military publications such as Stars and Stripes, and in my company’s internal newsletter.

MARS radio operators monitored the propagation quality of the calls, issued detailed phone patch logs, and forwarded letters of appreciation from service personnel and their families. Sometimes, the operator logs gave us a flavor of the typical conversation (e.g., Uncle Dan had gallbladder surgery; dad’s CAT scan came back - it’s cancer; Jennie gave birth - the baby is beautiful, etc.). This was human interest - pure and simple.

One moment I’ll never forget was October 23, 1983, the day a terrorist truck bomb carrying thousands of pounds of dynamite killed 241 servicemen in Beirut, Lebanon. That day, Captain David J. Veazey, my Navy MARS contact, patched in the members of my group to three naval destroyers in the Mediterranean Sea off the coast of Lebanon so we could relay our prayers and good wishes to the thousands of sailors aboard. And they all shouted back their thanks. You simply can’t buy that kind of good will and publicity.

Fast forward to September 20, 1985: the program was humming along. We were offering it on seven national holidays, and had a stable of more than 130 stateside MARS operators who patched calls originating from every single continent, including Antarctica. The program had become an institution, a holiday tradition for military families.

Then, without notice, a devastating earthquake struck Mexico City. Phone lines were down, people needed medicine, and families on both sides of the border were unable to communicate with one another.

As I watched the disaster unfold, I had an idea - why not issue an “auth code” right away to my MARS team and open up a hundred channels? The sticky part was getting an immediate green light from management. The program had never been used for disaster relief before. I was reluctant to approach my boss because I was afraid he would send it upstairs for executive approval, pass the buck to Corporate PR, or simply “sit on it.” Given the magnitude of the disaster, and the human suffering involved, I felt compelled to launch the program on my own, and I didn’t want to lose any time. So I floated my idea with the head of International Marketing, and he encouraged me to go for it. I knew I could get into trouble and ruffle a lot of feathers, but I was on a mission. And what a mission it was!

Operation Earthquake was a total public relations success... and an amazing experience for all of us! It helped bring families together, relayed important health and welfare information, and, in all likelihood, saved many lives. The MARS team worked around the clock communicating with amateur radio operators and major radio stations throughout Mexico.

While the official MARS channels were being used by the Mexican and American embassies and the U.S. State Department, our team of MARS operators passed on critical information to the American Red Cross and the Earthquake Relief National Task Force, who desperately needed to know which medical supplies (including typhoid and tetanus shots) were being requested by Mexican hospitals.

I was in touch by phone with representatives from the national headquarters of the Red Cross in Washington, D.C., and carefully monitored all of the activities being undertaken. The most prolific radio ham operator in Mexico, Luis (XEIL), personally requested that our MARS team receive his transmissions, and Arizona Senator Barry Goldwater, a big ham radio buff who participated in the effort, passed along his thanks to my company for its generosity and support.

So you’re probably wondering what happened after the dust settled. After issuing a succession of memos to management, which included thank you letters from the MARS Chiefs and the American Red Cross documenting the program’s success, I received no reaction.

There were no calls, no “attaboys,” not a word. Nada.

However, over the course of the next three months or so, a succession of events took place: I was asked to leave my nice corner office and work in a cube (sorry, we need your space); my staff was reassigned (a.k.a. “reorged”); and yes, the powers that be took the program away from me and handed it over to Corporate PR to manage. I was being shunned which, in corporate parlance, means being shown the door.

I was in a state of shock. I had blown it, career-wise, and I knew it. I violated several sacred rules. I didn’t request permission to run the program, and I never apologized for what I did. I ignored proper protocol and denied management the opportunity to take credit and bask in the glory. I spent the company’s money without giving it one single thought. Yep, I wasn’t a team player.

I really missed chatting with my MARS contacts -- the late Captain Veazey, Commander Larry Warren (Chief of Army MARS), and Ray Collins (U.S. Air Force). I missed reading the letters from the radio operators. I missed giving interviews to the press. I missed the program the most when each holiday came around.

Then, about a month later, a colleague of mine took me aside and told me that his HR contact confided in him that I was going to be fired. Apparently, my new boss (yes, my old boss put a “buffer” between us) was writing a letter of incompetence about me. Classic.

Well, that rattled my cage! So I got busy. I asked several high-ranking colleagues of mine to write letters of praise and deposit them in my HR file. I also began to look for other positions within the company. Fortunately, a newly-hired VP of Sales had heard about me from favorable sources. She needed someone to manage the marketing function of a new inbound/outbound telesales operation. I applied for the job, was hired, and got a 20 percent raise.

When the VP of my old department heard about this, the “you know what” hit the proverbial fan. Since he had a lot of clout, he tried to prevent my transfer. When he couldn’t, he negotiated a deal whereby I would devote one-third of my time working for him and two-thirds of my time working for my new boss. He also wanted to reduce my raise, but I protested and won my case in HR. A few months later, I had offices in two locations and hired a few staff people. Within six months, I was promoted to Group Manager.

As fate would have it, I was reassigned to my old management team shortly thereafter (let’s “reorg” again), and we all got along famously. Bizarre.

Now we come to the moral, or rather the magic, of the story. I learned that I had the power to make things happen. I learned the meaning of that old adage: “it ain’t over ‘till it’s over.” I learned there’s an element of serendipity in success. I learned that having passion makes believers of us all, and that the only real failure is to stop believing in yourself. I learned the upside and downside of taking a risk, and the difference between “doing things right” and “doing the right thing.” And I learned there’s a price to pay for not doing things the right way. You just have to ask yourself whether you’re willing to pay the price.

This magical mistake of mine changed my life and career for the better. Up until September 20, 1985, I never realized how good I was at my job. I discovered that I was decisive, had great instincts, and was guided by a set of values that got me through the day. I also learned to appreciate the importance of having friends and colleagues who believed in me. Nobody can go it alone - especially in a highly structured and political organization.

When the MARS program was added to my plate in 1982, I had no idea how special it would become to me, and how important it was to thousands of people around the world. Since that time, I have dedicated myself to finding work that is challenging, fun, and fulfilling. I wasn’t meant to be a paper shuffler, a number cruncher, or a company man. I wanted creative latitude. I wanted to connect with people. I wanted to make a difference.

In January 1988, I moved on to a rewarding marketing career in the electronic publishing industry, and, for the last eight years, have owned and operated my own communications agency and consultancy. And there’s still magic in my life: I continue to take risks, make things happen, and profit, whenever possible, from my mistakes.