Phil Trounstine: A reminiscence

The sudden passing of my old boss, Phil Trounstine, at age 72 earlier this week, hit me hard. Phil hired me in 1999 from the press corps to be one of his deputies in the administration of Gov. Gray Davis, where he served as communications director.

That leap from journalism to government communicator changed the trajectory of my career, but it was the two years I got to spend working closely with “Uncle Phil” as we affectionately called him, that really defined an era and helped shape me, personally and professionally.

Much has been written about Phil’s great skill, humor and instincts as a political reporter — all true. But he also cared very deeply about the people in his circle, and he assembled a team of very talented people in the Gray Davis communications shop, opening his home to them and making them feel like family.

“Are you having fun yet,” he’d ask me, when I walked him to his car for a bit of face time.

He was demanding and exacting and cared about words. As a communications director, he was determined to view the whole picture and spent as much time worrying about the banner designs of the new and destined-to-be-lauded MyCalifornia portal web pages and the Flex Your Power logo as the details of the annual budget and State of the State Address rollouts.

Hours were long in the governor’s office, but he seldom went home without making a swing through the various suites of press, speechwriting, and advance, offering a zinger or a needed word of encouragement.

“Are you having fun yet,” he’d ask me, when I walked him to his car for a bit of face time. Offers for an after-hours drink were usually declined. “Gotta get back to Debbie,” he’d say, and he meant it. She was his shelter and salvation.

His office in the inner “horseshoe” suite was a whirlwind, newspapers stacked on a table in the corner, and three TVs going simultaneously above. With the help of his assistant Lela Broadway, he kept his desk clear of everything but the task at hand.

His staff meetings were raucous affairs, and he’d preside in Socratic style, asking questions and imploring, “I need ideas, people.” He was never short on ideas and liked implementing them, sharing the credit when they worked.

Those early days were heady, with the economy roaring, public opinion ratings high and the national media adoring…

He loved using new emerging technology to tell stories and championed the use of the internet as we redesigned the governor’s web pages, using software that allowed for tagging by topic and future searches. He supported the use of new-fangled digital recorders to capture and share the governor’s speeches; and insisted on Americans With Disabilities Act compliance with an internet redesign, so everyone could access the information. We were the first to video stream a State of the State address on the web.

His door was always open, and to beat the stress, he’d take a smoke break, despite the large scar on his chest from open-heart surgery. His office looked onto the Capitol’s central courtyard, where smoking was allowed (and later became the site of the Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger’s infamous smoking tent). He didn’t have direct access, so he’d walk into the next office that belonged to the security chief, excusing himself with a quick “playing through”, before entering. I’d follow along for a moment of private consultation.

Those early days were heady, with the economy roaring, public opinion ratings high and the national media adoring, including a cover story in Newsweek and appearances on national news shows like Meet the Press. Newsweek declared Gray Davis, “the most fearless governor in America.”

The Sacramento press corps was beginning to sour on the tight access to the governor, while national outlets were given carte blanche.

From a communications standpoint, Phil was positioning the governor for higher office in the moderate Third Way mode of Bill Clinton and Tony Blair. On a planned state visit to Israel, Phil questioned what he should do when meeting Palestinian leader Yassir Arafat, whom he considered a terrorist. In the end, he was professional, despite his strong personal feelings.

But there were rumblings. The Sacramento press corps was beginning to sour on the tight access to the governor, while national outlets were given carte blanche. Coverage became more negative, and events—like the bursting of the Dot Com bubble, subsequent recession and nosedives of state revenues — took a toll.

There was 9/11 and the energy crisis with its rolling blackouts, a perfect storm that weakened the governor politically and opened the door for a bruising reelection campaign; and finally, the Recall.

During the energy crisis, we all resented having to become subject matter experts on something we all took for granted, that the lights would turn on when we flipped the switch.  But learn we did and Phil gave me the assignment of being the spokesperson for all media inquiries related to the state’s new role as the purchaser of electric power for the state’s near-bankrupt investor-owned utilities.

Phil was always a proponent of a personal “exit strategy”, and the rigors of the job were a real health risk.

It was a delicate assignment, fraught with peril and market-moving potential. Once, a story in the Wall Street Journal did not turn out well, and Phil demanded an editorial meeting with the author, Rebecca Smith, and her editor.  This is when Phil the Lion emerged.

Once on the call, he tore the story to shreds. Press Secretary Steve Maviglio and I sat, amazed at his ferocity and intellectual rigor. While a correction or retraction never came, it was made clear we were not punching bags for the Journal’s amusement.  Smith later went on to win the Loeb Award for business reporting for her work uncovering the deceitful operations of Enron and others in manipulating the energy markets.

Phil was always a proponent of a personal “exit strategy”, and the rigors of the job were a real health risk. He wanted to move back to the coast, where he and Debbie were renovating a home.  His departure was a strategic move for him — a disappointment for the team he built and led — but not a total surprise.

We stayed in touch over the years, mainly by Facebook, and occasionally at state political conventions where he was a kid at a candy store. Recently we toyed with some dates for a day on the links at his beloved Seascape golf course. It was not to be.

Thanks, Phil. You mentored me, made me better, and I’m so glad you were in my life, and my corner. Rest in Peace, Uncle Phil.
—
Editor’s Note:  Michael Sicilia is Press Secretary for Juvenile Justice at the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. He was Deputy Director of Communications for Gov. Gray Davis, 1999-2003.  To view obituaries on Trounstine, click here and here.