Paddi LeShane, Co-Founder & CEO | | |
These days, it feels impossible to open a newspaper, scroll LinkedIn, or sit through a board meeting without someone raising concerns about artificial intelligence. Will it replace jobs? Distort reality? Move faster than regulation — or even common sense? The promise is real. The fear is real.
If that tension sounds familiar, it should.
Twenty-six years ago, the world stood at a very different crossroads. As 1999 came to a close, the concern wasn’t artificial intelligence — it was a flaw buried deep in how computers had been programmed decades earlier. Two-digit date coding meant that when the calendar rolled from 1999 to 2000, systems might read “00” as 1900. The fear wasn’t hypothetical. It was operational. Would the power stay on? Would banks function? Would emergency services respond?
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Then, as now, the challenge wasn’t just technical. It was how to communicate risk without creating panic.
In the final weeks of December 1999, official news coverage struck a careful balance: acknowledge the risk, demonstrate preparedness, and avoid unnecessary alarm. Government leaders spoke in layperson's terms. Systems were tested. Backup plans were put in place. And most importantly, responsibility was clearly assigned.
That approach reflects one of the most enduring crisis communications truths: people don’t need certainty — they need confidence that someone is paying attention. In Connecticut, that confidence came from visible planning, quiet coordination, and one very unique New Year’s Eve gathering.
On December 31, 1999, the center of activity wasn’t a hotel ballroom, TV studio, or street party. It was the State Armory in Hartford, serving as the state’s emergency coordination hub — and hosting a carefully orchestrated black-tie event.
Senior officials — elected and appointed — agency heads, public safety leaders, IT professionals, and other essential players gathered there not to celebrate first, but to be alert, ready, and visible as the clocks struck midnight. The evening was thoughtfully orchestrated by Jo McKenzie, then a special assistant to Governor John G. Rowland, who understood the moment demanded symbolism and discipline, not just celebration.
Political and community leaders, lobbyists, and business owners came together to mark the turn of a new century and the dawn of a more digitally dependent era — one that would demand confidence, clarity, and visible leadership even in moments meant for celebration.
While the band played and guests enjoyed self-catered munchies, the bar remained closed until after midnight. A small decision, but a clear message: accountability doesn’t pause for a countdown.
Right up until midnight, eyes were on computer screens, backup systems, and security teams — ready to respond if needed.
And then… nothing happened.
The lights stayed on. ATMs worked. Hospitals functioned. Planes flew. By the morning of January 1, 2000, it was clear Connecticut — and the world — had crossed the threshold without incident. Some later called Y2K overblown. Those responsible for the outcome knew better.
As we navigate today’s AI debate, Y2K offers guidance worth remembering: prepare early, communicate clearly, show up visibly, and don’t overreact. Credibility, after all, is built before a crisis — not during one.
So, where were you when the clock struck midnight in 1999?
| | Meet the Media: Q&A with Bob Wilson, WTNH News 8 | | Dan Tapper, Senior Director | | Bob Wilson joined WTNH News as a reporter in December 2003, bringing with him a wide range of experience from television newsrooms across the country. Prior to WTNH, he spent seven years at WVIT before leaving to work on specials for the Discovery Channel. Outside of broadcasting, Bob’s career path has been anything but ordinary. He’s worked as both a lobsterman and a lumberjack. In his free time, he enjoys scuba diving and woodworking. Bob lives in Connecticut with his wife, Sarah, and their three children, Liam, Conlon, and Kinsey. | | | |
You’ve been reporting in Connecticut for 30 years now. What makes you keep wanting to do this, report the news in Connecticut?
I was born skiing and hiking in Colorado, attended Colorado State University… but I love Connecticut and call it home. The best part about reporting in the state is that every trip out of the newsroom is different. Sometimes you’re with Reverend Brown and Mothers United Against Violence in Hartford, and the next day in Salisbury at the Olympic size ski jump watching 10-year-olds fly through the air. Connecticut has so many incredible people, and stories all within a one-hour drive of Hartford.
How has the media landscape changed, from your perspective, since you started your career here?
Technology, technology, technology. The cameras get better, lighter, smaller. Police now wear body cameras. Everyone has a camera in their pocket, but the biggest changes in our industry are the small live remote units that clip onto the back of the cameras. We can go live from an overzealous UConn basketball celebration as students redecorate the campus, or in the middle of a hurricane in Florida.
You have become well-known in the state for imaginative, innovative stories – often showcasing the more adventurous side of the news. What makes these stories so compelling to you, and what do you like most about being able to tell them?
It’s the old rope-a-dope. I try to get involved with the storytelling because it shows the skill and talent of the person highlighted in the story. I washed windows in the treetops of downtown Hartford with Matt Cory. You can look up at him from the ground as he’s repelling down the side of a building and say, “That man is crazy,” but when you strap in next to him and lower yourself over the edge with a camera, the dangers, the challenges, his bravery doesn’t need to be explained.
How has social media impacted your career and the work that you do?
Social media makes our job easier and more difficult at the same time. When there’s a major event, such as a clash between ICE and protesters, people post videos immediately and the story is out there. That’s great, but it opens up a binary discussion in which lies a can be told, or at least slanted versions of the truth. And now with AI generated videos (like the one I recently saw that showed a police officer arresting an ICE agent), I think there might be a gentle swing back to local TV News because we verify and fact check our videos and information. And at News 8, we try to report it down the middle, always representing both sides.
Finally, from a public relations perspective, we always like to hear from our friends in the media how we can do our jobs better. What kinds of pitches work best for you? And conversely, what kind of story pitches don’t work for you?
A good public relation firm gets to know the anchors and reporters and content creators in their cities and state. And a good public relations person will pitch stories into our wheelhouse. Conversely, I need a visual story, one that shows emotion, or something exciting. Sometimes I get pitched a story, bring it back to my bosses and they ask “what is the video going to look like?” And the story dies right then and there.
| | ‘Message, I care’: Actions, not words, make valuable community connections | | Brian Flaherty, Executive Vice President | | | | |
Looking back at President George H.W. Bush, most would agree he was a remarkably effective leader in deed — but not in word.
Bush often joked, at his own expense, that he was far from “The Great Communicator” that his predecessor Ronald Reagan was, so much so that during a stump speech in his ill-fated reelection campaign amid 1992’s weak economy, the exasperated, tongue-tied 41st president blurted out, “Message, I care.”
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He did, but people didn’t buy it—possibly because his saying so didn’t paint that picture in American voters’ minds, and with a down economy, hearing “I care” from their president just didn’t cut it.
Herein lies this month’s tip for business leaders looking to connect with the people and places where they live and work. Make sure your neighbors, customers, employees, and other important stakeholders see and understand HOW you care. It’s not enough to say it. You have to show it. And you can.
To be sure, corporate giving is important. We often advise our clients to show how they create shared value for themselves and their communities that is directly connected to their core business.
The most vivid example I can share is from a family-owned precision manufacturing company in Stamford that makes latches, locksets, and hinges.
“Brian,” the owner said to me as we stood on the shop floor, “all the metal we use is rolled, stamped, cut, deburred, and polished at companies in the Naugatuck valley.” By doing so, his company showed it cared by the impact of the skilled jobs and career paths it provided to its employees and how it multiplied that impact through the jobs and economic activity of the people and companies in its Connecticut-based supply chain.
A financial institution we work with poured its energy into teaching young people how to build good financial habits—hosting hundreds of high school students at an annual “financial reality fair” and using an app-based tool to grab their attention and drive the lessons home to set them on the pathway to good habits and good credit ratings.
By doing so, both companies made a greater connection and impact on their community beyond giving out donations.
The people who matter the most to you—your current and future employees, customers, and partners—like to see a company that is as committed to the future of their community as they are.
Your tip: Engage your community by using your core work to drive value in the communities where you operate. Whichever approach you choose to make your own, do it, show it, tell it and share it.
History has been kind to Bush 41, because what he accomplished—and how he did it—connected to who he was. Don’t wait for history. Show how you care by the shared value you create.
| | Case In Point: A More Integrated Approach to Public Relations | | Randi Sussman, Senior Manager, Integrated Communications | | |
As I shared in my October On Message, public relations continues to evolve. As we enter 2026, that evolution shows up not only in how organizations communicate, but also in the work we do every day at Sullivan & LeShane Public Relations.
Today, public relations is about more than individual tactics or channels. It’s about taking a thoughtful, coordinated approach, using the right mix of platforms to support an organization’s overall goals. As audiences, media, and technology change, so does the way we help our clients show up, tell their stories, and build trust.
As a team, we’ve always focused on working closely with our clients to develop smart, strategic communications. We help them grow their businesses, manage their reputations, and position themselves as leaders in their industries. That work is most effective when everything works together—when messaging, channels, and tactics are aligned and reinforcing one another.
As I’ve settled into my role at Sullivan & LeShane PR, it’s become clear that “integrated communications” best reflects the work I do with clients every day. My updated title, Senior Manager, Integrated Communications, reinforces that our approach goes beyond traditional public relations. We work as true partners with our clients to create communications programs that are not only creative, but strategic, credible, and consistent across channels.
As we move into the new year, our focus remains the same: helping clients navigate a complex communications landscape with clarity and purpose, and making sure every message supports the outcomes that matter most.
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In the Spotlight:
We’re excited to congratulate Paddi LeShane, CEO of Sullivan & LeShane Public Relations, on being named to Women We Admire’s Top 50 Women Leaders of Connecticut for 2026.
A well-deserved recognition of leadership, impact, and influence across Connecticut. Click here to read the full list.
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Sullivan & LeShane Public Relations, Inc. | (860) 560-0001 | www.ctpr.com | | | | | |