The next step is to get on with the program. Usually that means you introduce the first speaker. Is there a right way to introduce a speaker? You bet there is, and it begins with an understanding of your responsibility as the go-between, the connecter of the audience to the speaker.
It’s similar to when you’re hosting a party at your home and you have guests who don’t know one another. You feel an obligation to introduce them, to tell each of them something about the other, so that they will discover areas of common interest. You want to connect them so that they can interact better. Once you have accomplished that, the party becomes lively, the guests will talk more freely.
The same thing holds for the talk of introduction, though you should go into a bit more detail, since the dialogue that takes place at a party will be missing.
The word “introduce” comes from the Latin words intro, which means inside, and ducerem which means to lead. When we introduce a speaker properly, we lead the audience inside the speaker’s world so that the audience is intrigued by the topic, impressed by the speaker’s accomplishments, and excited to be present.
Is there a simple way to organize such a talk? Of course there is. We call it the TEAS format. It was created by Charlie Windhorst, the cofounder of Communispond, twenty-five years ago, and has helped thousands of “introducers” perform this function flawlessly.
Here’s how it works:
Try to hold the speaker’s name until last, even when the audience knows who the speaker is. It keeps the introduction cleaner and adds a sense of drama and a lift to the end of your intro.
To do this exceptionally, your first job is to interview the speaker and gather the necessary background information. You may have to work harder to get the anecdote. Sometimes the speaker is shy or “can’t think of one.” In that case, ask him or her for the name of a friend and phone that person to get the anecdote. Even if you encounter roadblocks, persist. It’s worth it.
The luncheon would take place in the JWT executive dining area. About seventy people would be present, half Ford people, half JWT.
The JWT management supervisor, Glen Fortinberry, wanted the event to be special. He wanted a speaker who would appeal to this sports-oriented audience. So he arranged for Frank Gifford, the former all-pro Giants flankerback, to be a speaker. He also asked Charlie Windhorst to introduce Frank.
The first thing Charlie did was to call the New York Giants’ office. He talked to Ray Walsh, the general manager, and told him that he was going to introduce Frank and that he wanted to tell the story of the great catch Frank made against the Steelers toward the end of his career, at Yankee Stadium.
Ray Walsh said, “I’ll never forget that catch. We [the Giants] were in the race for the Eastern Divisional Championship of the NFL. We were tied. We had to beat the Steelers to get to the championship game. We were in the fourth quarter. It was third down with fourteen yards to go for a first. We were on our own forty-yard line. The quarterback was Y. A. Tittle. Gifford lined up left and ran a crossing pattern.
“Joe Walton, the tight end, was supposed to clear the area for Frank but was held up at the line of scrimmage. So Frank ran his pattern with two defenders on him. Y. A. was being rushed hard, but he held the ball as long as he could. He finally threw it out of desperation, and he threw it long. There was no way Frank could get to it ._._. but he did. He dove, caught it with his fingertips, and tucked it in as he rolled on the ground. It was a first down. We went on to score, and we won the Divisional Championship. Frank’s catch was the turning point.”
Charlie took notes and was overjoyed because he knew he had a good anecdote! He also had prepared the other parts of the TEAS format.
On the day of the luncheon, Charlie met with Frank Gifford and told him what he was going to say while introducing him. Not a bad idea. There’s nothing worse than spouting some facts in your introduction and then having the speaker walk to the lectern and disclaim the truth of what you just said.
Charlie had a little rubber football with him on the lectern, and as Frank walked to the lectern, Charlie tossed him the little football, which Frank caught and tossed back to him. Nice touch. Luckily, Frank caught the little football.
Frank’s opening remarks went something like this: “Thank you, Charlie, for the nice introduction. Actually, I’m not the one who deserves the credit for that play. Y. A. held his ground back there, looking death in the eye as two defensive linemen roared at him. After he threw the ball, he was almost annihilated by those tacklers. Any other quarterback would have thrown the ball away to avoid being hit so hard, and I wouldn’t have had the chance to catch it.
“After the play, I congratulated Y. A. for holding the ball that long and then getting it to me. And he said, ‘I wish I had thrown it to Del Shofner [a faster receiver] instead of you, Frank. Del would have been wide open, five yards in front of those defenders. It would have been an easy play, and I wouldn’t have been hit by those linemen.’”
That was Frank’s transition into his talk. He was so self-effacing the audience loved him before he even started his prepared remarks. That’s what a good anecdote can do for a speaker. It provides an opportunity for the speaker to gracefully transition from the introduction into his talk. But it’s not just the speaker who benefits, the audience does, too. The entire affair rises to a new level if the introductions are done well.
After the luncheon was over, Frank sought Charlie out, thanked him again, and said, “Would you follow me around and introduce me whenever I speak?”
If you can get a good anecdote, the speaker is “launched” with the audience. Charlie once introduced Ted Sorensen, a former speechwriter for President Kennedy, at one of those JWT events. Sorensen was a brilliant man who looked rather studious. In the introduction, Charlie said, (deliberately holding Ted’s name until the end of the intro):
“Last week this man pitched a shut out and knocked in the winning run for his team in a slow pitch softball game in Central Park. And even after those heroics, he was much more elated by the team victory than by his own contributions. It shows what a team player this man is.”
Notice how the story humanized Ted Sorensen. The audience could identify with him just a little bit more.
Sometimes it’s difficult to get the necessary information, try though we might. We think we can get the material on the spot, and so we let it go until we have nowhere to turn for help. But we shouldn’t excuse ourselves. Remember, a speaker cannot be as effective with a weak introduction. He cannot do it alone. You are there for a purpose. You are there to help make the event more meaningful, more enjoyable, than it could be without you.
For many years I lived with my wife and family in Old Greenwich, Connecticut. One day in May, the organizer of the local Memorial Day parade asked me:
“Kevin, would you be willing to serve as the grand marshal of the parade? If you say ‘yes,’ here’s what’s involved:
“You would be part of the great parade, riding in the elevated back seat of the grand marshal’s car as the parade weaves its way through town. Alongside of you would be our guest celebrity and featured speaker, Fred Furmark (not his real name), of TV fame. The parade will start at Todd’s Point and work its way all the way down Sound Beach Avenue, ending at Memorial Rock.
“You and Fred will wave to the crowd during this journey. They will line the streets on both sides and be hanging off the train trestle bridge as you go under it. At Memorial Rock in Binney Park, you will introduce Fred. He will give his Memorial Day talk, and the parade will be over.”
The whole thing sounded exciting to me, so I said, “Sure. I’ll do it.”
I knew how to do an introduction. It meant I’d have to get some information about the speaker, but I could get that from him as we inched our way along in the parade.
Memorial Day came, and it wasn’t long before I found myself in the back of the car with Fred Furmark on Shore Road in Old Greenwich, behind marching bands, baton twirlers, Veterans of American Wars, American Legion members, Girl Scouts, Daughters of the American Revolution, the Fire Department, local officials, and just about any other organized group that wanted to walk or march from Todd’s Point to Memorial Rock.
Fred and I were in the middle of all that. I told him I would be introducing him and asked him to tell me about his background. He said, “I’ve lived in this town for twenty years and they all know me here.”
We were sitting high in the grand marshal’s car, waving to the left, to the right, overhead. Wherever there were people waving, we waved back. It was fun. But I had a job to do. I needed information from my fellow “waver,” and I was a little bit nervous about whether I was going to get it.
So I said, “Fred, what is the topic of the talk you are going to give?”
He waved to the people standing in front of Sterling Watts’s hardware store, and said, “I’m going to talk about patriotism.”
I said: “I need a title for your talk.”
Fred said, “How about ‘What freedom means today’?”
I said, “I like it if you do.”
At this point someone from the crowd yelled, “How are you doing, Fred?”
Fred answered, “I’m doing fine. I love being here with all of you.”
We returned to our dialogue, still smiling, still waving. I said, “Could you tell me something about your background, your schooling?”
Fred said, “Why do you want to know about that?”
So I said, “I have to introduce you. I have to tell the people about you.”
Fred said, “They all know me. I’ve lived in this town for twenty years.”
I said, “Fred, please help me. I’ve got to introduce you, and I need some info on you. Would you help me?”
Little by little, Fred answered my questions and gave me what I needed. He never missed a wave. He smiled indefatigably. And a lot of the people did know him. I was really impressed with this fine man, but I sure struggled in getting enough information. I’ve changed a few details, but here is the outline of my introduction:
Always announce the name with a rise of intonation and a burst of volume. The speaker’s name is the culmination of your talk. If you have held the name until the end, the speaker will rise and walk toward you with outstretched hand as the audience applauds.
You might wonder how long the talk of introduction should be. The answer is—it should be short. Not longer than sixty seconds. Your job is to sell the speaker to the audience, enhance his or her stature, tickle the audience’s fancy, build their anticipation, and excite them about the speaker. All of that, but no more, in sixty seconds.
You are not the speaker. Don’t be confused by that. You are there to prepare the way for the speaker, not compete with him or her. And, for heaven’s sake, don’t show off your knowledge about the speaker’s subject. Here is an old speaker’s lament:
Nothing makes me madder
Than when the introducer’s patter
Is my subject matter