Fred Vogelstein at Wired shared his own thoughts on his blog about being the subject of an internal Microsoft memo:

As journalistic windfalls go this is about as good as it gets. There I was writing a story about how Microsoft is on the cutting edge of using the Internet to become more transparent, and there in front of me are the briefing documents they are using to manage the story. The timing was so fortuitous that I wondered whether it was intentional. When I told Microsoft about it, they convincingly told me it was not.

But after I was done reading all 5,500 words I no longer felt elated at the prospect of an interesting scoop. I felt downright peculiar. I’ve been a journalist for more than 20 years and always assumed that the people I interview do as much homework on me as I do on them. So the existence of a document like this didn’t surprise me. But that still didn’t make it any easier to read lines like, “It takes him a bit to get his point across so try to be patient.” I know my long-windedness drives my wife nuts occasionally. I didn’t know it had become an issue for Microsoft’s pr machine too…

Should I be flattered that they worked so hard, or should I be embarrassed at being co-opted by their spin machine? I’d like to think I would have written the same story no matter what. But now, through the miracle of transparency, you, the reader, get to decide that too.

Here’s the story Vogelstein wound up publishing, if you’re curious.

[Thanks to Todd Bishop at the Seattle Post-Intelligencer for Vogelstein's blog info.]

Transparency is a popular buzzword and a valuable concept in public relations and in the news these days. This New York Times story reminded me this week just how transparent all our technology and connectedness has made nearly all of us, virtually overnight:

In February, during the course of reporting on a video blogging initiative at Microsoft called Channel 9, Fred Vogelstein inadvertently received a 13-page, 5,500-word internal memo from Waggener Edstrom Worldwide, a firm that represents Microsoft. The document, which was meant to prepare Microsoft executives for interviews, contained frank details, including some less-than-flattering observations (“Fred’s stories tend to be a bit sensational, though he would consider them to be balanced and fair”), scripted responses to questions and a strong-arm list of the points the agency expected to see in the piece.

It only made matters worse that the original Wired story was intended to focus on Microsoft’s corporate transparency in allowing its employees to blog about their work.

Noting that the article Mr. Vogelstein wrote was about a Microsoft project that permits employees to blog about the company’s corporate doings — a concept called “radical transparency” — Mr. Shaw said, “In a lot of ways, it was irresistible to Wired to bring attention to it. To show it as the polar opposite of the transparency piece they were working on.”

Mr. Vogelstein said in a telephone interview that the memo, which made its way into an e-mail message about appointment scheduling, gave him a weird sense of voyeurism.

“We all want to know what everybody thinks about us, but I think most of us, if we found out, would be sorry,” he said. “Some of the stuff I was totally fine with, but I objected to being called ‘tricky’ and I thought, ‘Wow — they really think that?’ ”

I would argue that there is radical transparency in our culture now, but not the kind engendered by Microsoft’s blogging initiative (which sounds like an admirable idea, for what it’s worth). This reminds me of advice I’ve heard around the office from time to time, usually when writing a news release: “Don’t write it unless you’d be comfortable seeing it on the front page of the newspaper.” Or in the next issue of Wired magazine.

The thing is, I’d expect that most of us have emails or private documents we’d rather not arrive in the harsh light of public view. The challenge, I think, is to remember that the next time we’re sitting in front of the keyboard.

[Thanks to Bulldog Reporter for pointing out this news.]

Speaking of ivory towers, the Signature Tower planned for downtown Nashville is inching closer to becoming a reality. I walked past the proposed site at the corner of Fifth Avenue and Church Street–which is currently a parking lot–yesterday evening. Developer Tony Giarratana has posted advertising signage around the site that says, “Your Neighborhood, 2010″ and features a rendering of the tower as part of the current city skyline.

Standing at the corner, I couldn’t help but look straight up to try to picture the edge of the building rising toward the clouds. According to this recent City Paper article, buyers have reserved 146 of the tower’s planned 400 condominiums, more than half of the 250 Giarratana says he needs in order to break ground on the building this July.

This is not the first time someone has made bold plans for major changes downtown. (This isn’t even the first project Giarratana has proposed for this particular plot of land. Years ago, the developer called for an aesthetically pleasing parking garage complete with a large clock at the corner intersection.) As discussion continues on what to do with the east bank of the Cumberland and what should go where the former thermal transfer plant once stood on the downtown side of the river, it’s worthy of note that what would be the most significant addition, perhaps ever, to our city’s facade may begin to take shape sooner rather than later.

How do you shift good intentions from mere ideas to significant, tangible outcomes? If you’ve ever served on a committee that talked much and accomplished little, that question has probably crossed your mind. The Tennessean’s Gail Kerr includes an emphatic example of this problem in her column today about juvenile violence:

[I]t was Elizabeth Buckhanon who brought it home [speaking to attendees at a Nashville Nonviolence Coalition meeting]. She works for Nashville REACH, a health outreach program. “But I didn’t come [here today] with that hat,” she said, standing tall in her dressy black-and-white suit. “I came here as a mother of eight children. I live in north Nashville. I almost started crying, because I thought of my sons.” One of them is in Riverbend prison, serving time for assault. Another served a prison sentence and is now living clean. She told of marrying a man who turned out to be a drug dealer, of her addiction and recovery from crack, of putting her kids in protective custody. Divorced, straight and finding answers to prayer, she brought those children home 12 years ago.

Most churchgoers, she said, drive right past people like her. “You’re passing by the church to try and get to the building,” Buckhanon said. “Church is not just in a building.” [emphasis added]

Black, white and Hispanic, female and male, teachers, preachers, cops and probation officers — you could’ve heard a pin drop they were so quiet. Until the ivory tower burst into applause.

I’m not singling out the church here. I feel like this is an issue for most any organization, whether it be a nonprofit, a business or something else. Ideas are important and should not be ignored, but often the harder work is putting those ideas into action. We all frequently hear good ideas that many of us would agree make sense to make a reality, but then we move on to our next task or appointment and let those ideas remain thoughts and hopes.

What would it really take to reduce the number of juveniles arrested for violent crimes? It can’t be just throwing money at the problem. More resources may lead to a solution, but cash can’t change the problem on its own. I asked a similar question recently about changing the reality of criminal activity on Dickerson Road. I suspect that the answer is that both situations require a real commitment of time and presence by many individuals to jump in and do individual tasks to change things for the better.

I’m not suggesting we all head down to Dickerson Road this morning and start rooting out crime, though that might not be the worst way of addressing the concerns there. I’m not recommending that we all mentor at-risk kids, but that’s a perfectly worthwhile undertaking. Each of us has commitments to causes that we care about, and I think the question for me is this: What can I do, right where I am already plugged in, to provide legitimate support that can lead to solutions instead of (or on top of) mere conversation and conjecture about the problems we face?