’Just call me a spokesman for DPS,’ recites Mike Cox, chief of media relations for the Texas Department of Public Safety (DPS), whenever a journalist asks how he should be referred to in a media report. But while walking through a metal detector and past the yellow plastic crime-scene tape en route to his Texas memorabilia-laden office, one suspects right away that Cox is no ordinary spokesperson.
’Just call me a spokesman for DPS,’ recites Mike Cox, chief of
media relations for the Texas Department of Public Safety (DPS),
whenever a journalist asks how he should be referred to in a media
report. But while walking through a metal detector and past the yellow
plastic crime-scene tape en route to his Texas memorabilia-laden office,
one suspects right away that Cox is no ordinary spokesperson.
Since joining the DPS in 1985, Cox’s name and image have been woven into
the fabric of Texas’s recent history. His mug became familiar as the
world watched him field media questions during the 1991 mass murder at
Luby’s Cafeteria in Killeen; during the follow-up investigation of the
1993 Branch Davidian siege in Waco; and during the suspenseful 1997
Republic of Texas stand-off in Fort Davis.
As his two young nieces in Ohio said after watching ’Uncle Mike’ day
after day on TV following the Branch Davidian siege, ’Look - there’s
Uncle Mike! He’s famous!’ Then after a minute they asked, ’Is he
rich?’
Having spent 20 years as an award-winning newspaperman before joining
DPS, Cox says he’s ’real prejudiced to people who have worked at a
newspaper (in media relations).’ Although he’s been ’on the other side
of the fence’ for 15 years now, his old business still holds a piece of
his heart. He collects memorabilia as well as newspaper fiction -
stories that star a newspaper editor or reporter such as Superman.
Not surprisingly, Cox grew up in a newspaper family and his parents,
both newspaper reporters at the time, met in Sweetwater, TX, while
covering a murder trial. ’I’m a product of two singular human acts, one
of which is murder,’ he jokes. On a bookshelf close to his desk, Cox
keeps a black-and-white photograph of his maternal grandfather, who was
a newspaper editor.
Despite his strong sentimental attachment to newspapers, Cox laments
that the old-fashioned paper version is likely to go away. ’The Internet
will pull all traditional media into one format - probably in my
lifetime,’ he predicts. ’You won’t be able to tell much of a difference
between newspaper, radio and television.’
Of his transition to PR, Cox says, ’It took me years to go from a
question- asker to a question-answerer.’ But now that he’s ensconced in
his new trade, he offers an interesting take on the eternal rift between
reporters and PR pros: ’It’s common for reporters to complain about PR,
but a lot of them do aspire to it. There’s more money in it, and it’s
more ’white collar.’ You move to another level when you practice
PR.’
As if his day job - which has involved stepping over dead bodies in
Killeen and fielding media questions as charred bodies were being
dragged from a compound in Waco - doesn’t keep him occupied enough, Cox
is the author of eight books. The titles include a biography of Fred
Gipson (author of ’Old Yeller’), a history of the Texas Rangers and a
true crime novel about Henry Lee Lucas, a serial killer who plagued
Texas in the late 1970s and early 80s. He also owns a rare book
business, Saddleback Books, with his wife. ’I sell used books at
antiquarian prices,’ he laughs.
Having survived a usually fatal form of esophageal cancer, and shortly
thereafter having seen his wife survive breast cancer, Cox says he needs
to keep busy because, as the saying goes, ’’A moving target is harder to
hit.’ My drive comes from a certain level of escapism from what I’ve
been through,’ he explains. ’My wife and I still get regular exams and
check-ups - hardly a day goes by that I don’t think about that.’
In fact, Cox likes to point out that David Koresh probably saved his
life. When the DPS took over the crime scene in Waco after the fiery end
of the Branch Davidian siege, Cox recalls that ’my life was chaos. I was
working 14 hours a day, and the pressure from the media was unrelenting.
They wanted answers to questions I didn’t have answers to. I believe the
stress kicked the ’wanna-be’ cancer cells into action, and that’s how I
found it.’
His principal role in Waco, as it was during other crises, was to
prevent secondary crises that could potentially arise from the spread of
rumors and misinformation. He must constantly find that crucial balance
between filling the information vacuum and discouraging the media from
disseminating false or misleading information.
Cox details his role in these and other crises in his book, Stand-off in
Texas. In it, he reminds the reader that notwithstanding the positive
role the media can play in informing the public, ’The media can also
create a whirling cyclone of rumor, misinformation, lies, panic and
confusion, not to mention the exaggeration and distortion of reality.’
That is why Cox believes that it is imperative for spokespeople and PR
pros to ’understand the power of communications.’
Probably one of the most frustrating parts of his job is trying to field
the ’unanswerable’ questions. ’I want to help the media,’ he says. ’But
there are sometimes things you cannot say, for the common good.’
At other times, there are things he simply doesn’t know. As the old
adage goes, a spokesperson is the first to get called and the last to
know.
Cox often has to leap hurdles within the DPS to gather enough
information to be of some use to the media. ’There is a cultural
difference between police officers and non-police officers,’ he
explains. ’A lot of (the DPS officers) tend to still view me as a
reporter - they don’t like to give me information; there are turf
concerns.’
Looking ahead, Cox says that local excitement could be generated from
George W. Bush’s presidential candidacy, given that DPS provides his
security.
His department will also be on emergency alert on New Year’s Eve to
field any Y2K-related media calls.
But, for the most part, Cox is reluctant to offer any predictions. ’I
thought the Killeen massacre would be the worst thing I’d ever see, then
there was Waco. I thought the Branch Davidian situation would be the
weirdest thing I’d ever witness, and then you get a group of people
claiming that Texas is really an independent republic - what could be
weirder than that? I’ve quit trying to guess what will happen next.’
MIKE COX
Chief of media relations
Texas Department of Public Safety
1965
Teenage columnist at the Austin American-Statesman
1967
Reporter at San Angelo Standard-Times
1969
Reporter at Lubbock Avalanche-Journal
1970
Returns to Austin American-Statesman
1985
Joins Texas Department of Public Safety.
