Do You Have the Moxie to Be a Crisis Leader?
During this extraordinary time, many business leaders are simultaneously enduring two major crises – the worldwide COVID-19 pandemic and the very strong possibility of losing their businesses – a perfect storm. Many simply need an empathetic ear and a little reassurance as they try to maintain control and weather the storm. Many of these emotional conversations are connected to a timeless chapter of The Art of Crisis Leadership, a book published by Rob Weinhold, our chief executive. Chapter seven of the book highlights how one amazing leader managed his life when an unexpected crisis, which could not have been predicted or anticipated – and one that he was not responsible for, brought about life-changing approaches and opportunity. We’re sharing it because we believe it can help, just a little, during this uncertain time. If you are searching for solid content to post on your web site or social media pages, we encourage you to post this as a way to bring some encouragement and inspiration to others who may be struggling in the midst of this global pandemic. The Art of Crisis Leadership, Chapter Seven: Early one morning in 2002, when I was working at the Governor’s Office of Crime Control and Prevention in Towson, Maryland, I stopped by to see the boss. After knocking lightly on his office door, I let myself in. But this time, Stephen P. Amos wasn’t sitting at his desk as usual. Instead, I found him sprawled on the floor with his eyes closed, suffering from an excruciating migraine attack. Given what Stephen was going through at the time, the fact he was enduring skull-splitting headaches was hardly shocking. That year, soon after taking over at GOCCP, a little-known state agency that provided access to federal and state grant funds to improve public safety, Stephen’s world had turned upside down. Out of nowhere, he found himself at the center of a high-profile public corruption probe, wrongly accused of improperly using grant money for administrative purposes. As a former law enforcement officer and U.S. Justice Department official, Amos had never been under investigation, for any reason. And, based on who I knew Amos to be at his core, he would find it repugnant to subscribe to any wrongdoing (no matter the toll) if he felt he or his team were operating ethically and legally. Since the GOCCP was overseen by Lt. Gov. Kathleen Kennedy Townsend, a Democrat in the midst of a heated race for governor against Republican Robert L. Ehrlich, many suspected a political motive behind the charges. Townsend, in fact, called the probe, led by Republican U.S. Attorney Thomas DiBiagio, “political garbage.” Nevertheless, it would drag on for another three years until federal prosecutors suddenly dropped their indictment of Amos in 2005, citing an obscure legal opinion they claimed would have made it difficult to win a conviction. Thus, ended one of the most painful ordeals I have ever seen a colleague go through—a man I knew to be of the highest moral character, a man who had been unfairly targeted and was innocent of even the slightest wrongdoing. But in the months that the investigation dogged him, I also watched Amos continue to perform superbly at his job, put the well-being of his worried and dispirited staff above his own and deliver one of the most inspiring examples of crisis leadership I’ve ever seen. “A lot of tears, a lot of pain,” Stephen said of that difficult time when we met not long ago for drinks and dinner. Before the crisis hit, he continued, “a lot of my decision-making had been about what was in my best interest (and for) my career path. But I soon came to realize it was no longer about me. “I realized I had a much bigger responsibility. I had to start thinking about the larger team, how to bring them together, how to communicate that there was a future, that the sky’s not going to fall and you’re not going to crumble.” The first hint of trouble came in early 2002, as Maryland’s gubernatorial campaign entered its final crucial stages. Amos began to hear rumors of a possible federal investigation into the GOCCP. One day around that time, I received an odd phone call from Stephen. “Rob, we’re friends, right?” he asked with a slight chuckle. “Of course we are,” I said. “Well,” he went on, “do you have any idea why the FBI is in my office?” At first, he professed not to be overly concerned. The investigation, he was told by his superiors, was a fishing expedition, undoubtedly motivated by politics. He assumed the feds would ask a few questions about a grantee, someone who had gotten funding from the GOCCP, and then the whole thing would go away. “I remember talking to the staff and telling them: ‘There’s been Democrats in office since (former Republican Gov. Spiro T.) Agnew,’” he recalled. “There’s gonna be no change in parties, everybody’s got career jobs here. “See, I didn’t face the reality of it at first,” Amos continued. “I was oblivious to these kinds of political shenanigans. That’s a big lesson: face reality.” As the probe dragged on and members of the administration began distancing themselves from him, Stephen realized he had misread the seriousness of the situation. Worried and feeling alienated, he reached out to a small number of confidantes—I was honored to be one of them—to help keep his spirits up, strategize and crisis lead during an incredibly difficult time. He also eschewed the standard advice about not saying anything to the media. Instead, once “an anonymous source” leaked to the press that a probe was underway, we invited The Baltimore Sun and the other regional media outlets to go through the office files and see for themselves if there was any evidence of corruption. The tactic worked brilliantly. Soon, editorials began appearing in The Sun, questioning DiBiagio’s motives, one stating: “…it’s tough to know right now if he is pursuing credible allegations of
