The beauty of ‘No’

I apparently have a skill unknown to me: Saying “No.”

At a family gathering this summer, my cousins let me know this. I was clueless they were even measuring in such a way.

At how many family gatherings were they doing that? I guess we’re often blissfully unaware of all our traits and qualities — good or bad — as seen by others.

The context of the family chatter on “No” was about child-rearing and caving in on kids’ wants. I’m also blissfully dense; thus, I’m pretty sure they were admiring my “No” skill. Or maybe not.

“No” is not a perfect skill, nor do I think I am perfect at it.

“No” got me got fired from a job as a teenager. I was a grunt who did whatever, including sweep floors.

One day, for whatever reason, I felt the other grunt (this place was blessed with two grunts per shift) should have swept floors. My manager’s face is still in my memory as I forced him for a third time to say “Sweep, or your fired.”

It was a scene ripped from “Breakfast Club” and the student, John Bender, and the assistant principal, Richard Vernon.

“No” left my lips for the third time — just seconds before I was jobless.

I suppose, too, I have a hard time saying “No” to snacks and to the recliner, and my doc is not pleasant about it.

I guess I shouldn’t be stunned that the family was measuring me on “No.”

I’ve bragged for years about “No” being one of the greatest words that is underappreciated and underused.

Sure, it has some negative connotations. But it also is an empowering command and stance — equal to powerful terms such as “Charge!” or “Go!” or “Run!”

When you trace our Vindy headlines, you often can find at the core of our biggest news events is a person or group — and their ability or inability to say “No.”

I think we have a new Mahoning County auditor because, in too many instances, our current auditor struggled to say “No.”

Headlines the past couple of weeks — such as a Youngstown police DUI flap and missing money with the Fitch Hall of Fame group — are also examples of an absence of “No.”

I see positive uses of “No,” too.

One is the decision to name Martin Abraham as interim provost at Youngstown State University for example — even though it was met with some staff displeasure. YSU had been on the hunt for a provost. The candidate search produced four people who all graced the campus for a tour.

The result for all four was the same — “No.” And out of the dust emerged Abraham.

That process and decision weren’t entirely popular. But you have to acknowledge the strength it took to stand against that tide and take such a stance.

I liked a Tressel interview on TV news after a faculty meeting discussing his provost decision. His comments essentially were: “It’s important to hear the concerns and thoughts, and that’s why we’re here. But at the end of the day, one person has to make a tough decision.”

The Public Library of Youngstown and Mahoning County did a similar thing when it brought in two finalists — at some expense — for its vacant director post. And said no to both of them. The restart yielded current boss Heidi Daniel, and that’s been pretty good.

I like the “No” that’s going on in the streets of New York City these past few nights.

I admire a “No” when it’s said to your face — even though it might take a bit for the initial sting to wear off.

One such “No” came from actor Ed O’Neill. I’ve enjoyed some great exchanges with him via email and over the phone.

I had a great idea once — so I thought. I made the pitch to him. And he was back within an hour:

“No.”

He had more words than that, but he led with that, firmly drawing a line right away. (How many times do you get a “No” only at the end of long, nuanced explainer?)

I heard a great “No” lesson this fall at an unexpected place.

I was touring Tod Homestead Cemetery as part of its massive, multimillion-dollar investment. I love cemeteries and Youngstown history, so it was fascinating to be there.

But of all the things to discover, the best was probably learning of Tod at its worst. The cemetery was launched in 1908 as part of the will of George Tod, son of Ohio Gov. David Tod.

The heavyweights of Youngstown were on the cemetery board of directors:

Volney Rogers, the father of Mill Creek Park; John and Henry Stambaugh; James Campbell of Youngstown Sheet & Tube who had the city named after him; A.E. Adams of Dollar Savings & Trust, and more, including the Tods — David and John.

These powerful lions of Youngstown, makers of mountains, could not make a cemetery happen. They drove George’s dream into the ground. By the early 1920s, the new place was broke and on the verge of closure due to overspending and overbuilding.

They could build steel, money and parks, but not a place for dead people.

They looked to John Tod to bail out his uncle’s dream.

He wouldn’t say “No” to their request.

He bailed out the cemetery to the tune of $400,000, which would equal $6 million today.

But he said “No” to the lions.

He made them all — Rogers, the Stambaughs, Adams, his nephew — resign. The men who helped power Youngstown were dismissed from a cemetery board.

Sally Tod Dutton runs the cemetery today. It’s a story she likes telling about one of Youngstown’s shrines.

“No.” It’s not such a bad word.

Todd Franko is editor of The Vindicator. He likes emails about stories and our newspaper. Email him at tfranko@vindy.com. He blogs, too, on vindy.com. Tweet him, too, at @tfranko.