Normal people hardly ever speak in public. There aren’t so many occasions to speak up. Let me list a few, rare occasions of public speaking:

• At your wedding ceremony (do you want to marry this man, that lady…you may kiss the bride);
  
• At a funeral (we will always remember you…);
  
• In the pub (being drunk);
  
• In the courthouse (as witness: it was him! - or replying to ‘guilty or not’).

 People who speak in public deal with divine or earthly power:

• Priest talk a lot; there is, however, little variety on the subject;
  
• Politicians talk a lot, and are prime example of self-centeredness and endless repetitions & innuendos;
  
• Soccer reporters scream a lot, and chase virtual balls on the screen;
  
• The girls at the News Bulletin read the text - at least they are pretty to look at.

 Are there any people, who are powerful, but can’t speak? You bet. Power associated to poorly connected or randomly operating brain cells can lead to disastrous results, as history seems to show.

I started very late. In my native Bavaria, a deeply catholic country, God is big and people are small. Some jodle on lonely mountains. Showing-off is not part of our culture, and I hardly ever spoke in secondary school. Then I got drafted in the army, as a conscript. There were not many occasions to speak in the first three month of service. The standard answer being: “Yes, Sir, Yawoll.” Things, however, evolved a bit over time. Those who can read, write, and use a telephone, are normally assigned administrative jobs in the German Army. Shooting and killing is reserved for analphabets, and maniacs.

In those days I had an office in a truck-repair workshop. I monitored the technical processes, filled out computer input sheets (eight copies each), and distributed these papers to different departments in the barracks, where these colored paper sheets got filed in various departmental colored folders.

My office was the only warm place during the winter months. Temperature never dropped below 50 deg F. The other workers, who spent their oily days under the dirty cold truck, were jealous. They came into my office to warm up, and never left an occasion to tease me. During these early army days my typewriting skills were very poor, and there was a moronic staff sergeant around. We called him Zebulon. He would always attempt to piss me off. I was an easy target, miserable and under-paid, doing a brainless paper job in a primitive hangar.

One day in winter of ’75 I sat in my little corner, and typed slowly, but regularly. Zebulon came in, and shouted at me:

“Kessler, is this all what you have learnt in school? Your type-writing skills are miserable!”

I replied with a calm voice: “My Staff Sergeant, if you ever can think as fast as I can type now, please consider yourself fortunate.”

He never bothered me again, but I didn’t get the other little stripe on my shoulder, at the next round of promotions. It was worth the fun, though. Ten month later the comedy in uniform was finally over. Speaking-up can help to define borderlines of conduct, and help restore one’s self-esteem, but at a cost. So far my lessons learned.

A few years later, in my Freiburg University time, I expanded my skills doing cabaret and making fun of our professors. They weren’t always amused, but it earned me some respect. It’s probably the only thing my old mates will remember about me.

I did my first real public speech after completing PHD in geology. One of our crazy traditions was to pull the PHD finalist over cobblestone pavement to the central market place in an old ox wagon. This was the easy part. Then the PHD finalist had to climb the fountain in the middle of the square and make a ten-minute-speech to the public.

In October 1985 it was my turn. I climbed the fountain, got wet feet and legs, and talked to the public - people shopping flowers and village eggs from freely walking chicks, or munching semmel, onions and bockwurst, red and juicy from the grills behind the gothic cathedral.

I was shocked. Nobody took notice of my presence, only occasionally someone looked up to the silly, nonsense-bubbling monkey on the fountain. This day I learned that public speaking requires preparation, style, coherency, a good topic and a receptive audience.

© 2004 by Franz L. Kessler