My friend Joe Elphick from Colonial Carton was practically giddy when he told me about the challenge he accepted. It involved making great speeches. He learned this skill during his time at the Buckley School for Public Speaking, in Camden, S.C.

“You would love it, Ben,” he said, “You gotta go.” Joe is not prone to hyperbole so I was intrigued. Plus, my wife thought it sounded like fun, so she came along.

The experience that followed is the reason I’m deviating from the usual discussion of profit and productivity in this space. We met a grand American icon who changes people’s lives. Consider this column my homage to Fergus Reid Buckley and the Buckley School of Public Speaking.

This man in his mid-70s has lived all over the world and is full of vitality. He has known many people but when he recounts his experiences, it doesn’t sound like name-dropping.

A wonderful raconteur, he always has a point, whether his goal is to instruct or to amuse. Reid bears an uncanny resemblance in look and voice to his more famous older brother, William F. Buckley, Jr.

After my wife and I arrived at the school, I met my fellow classmates. Our group members had virtually nothing in common except a desire to speak more effectively. The crew consisted of insurance executives, a doctor, a lawyer, a state representative, a clinical social worker, a professor, a salesman, a software engineer, and me — 12 souls who would take the journey together.

Within just minutes, we were on our feet — speaking extemporaneously on a topic assigned by the staff, under the watchful gaze of Mr. Buckley and the unblinking eye of the video camera.

All too soon, he played back our tapes, then he and his staff gave us their initial comments. Reid was mercilessly direct but his delivery was without malice. The bad news about me (and there is plenty) includes timing, diction, posture, how I hold my hands, where I look and the less specific criticism, “you looked like a lump of flesh.” The good news is that I appear confident, sincere and honest and that before they were finished with me, I would perform much better.

During our more than 18 hours over three days, we were all on our feet many times. We learned that Winston Churchill spent one hour in preparation for every one minute he planned to speak. Our preparation time ranged from moments to minutes and, in the case of our final
presentations, to several hours.

We received nearly constant feedback and coaching from the staff and Reid. How to stand. When to gesture. How to use our bodies and voices.

Thursday included extemporaneous talks, a one-on-one live television interview with the local NBC news anchor and a blistering role-play press conference with the aforementioned anchor and the local newspaper editor. When we left for the day, I felt as though my skin had been peeled back and that I’d been dipped in acid — and it felt great.

Friday was the “big day.” We worked on our final project, a team debate. Write, rehearse, then coaching. Rewrite, rehearse, more coaching. Again. Again. And then the actual presentation.
It worked! Elation. Success.

I went to Camden expecting to have a few days away with my spouse, where I would learn a few things and hone my skills. I never expected to so thoroughly enjoy my experience. It is both rare and wonderful to find yourself in the company of someone worthy of the accolade “larger than life.”

I recommend a trip to Camden. You can thank me later.