Memory Vanhyning With Word Power To Spare, Speechwriter Gives Speakers An Extra Edge

David Shea is a pragmatic general contractor, running a big company in a well-pressed business suit. Not the sort of fellow you’d expect to move 400 people to tears.

But he did last February with a little help from, Spokane’s speechwriter to the rich and famous.

For $75 to $95 an hour, VanHyning crafts the dreams of powerful businessmen and women into passionate 20-minute tearjerkers that people talk about years later.

“People use my words on very important occasions,” says the spunky VanHyning, bouncing in a chair at her North Spokane home office. “If you can come up with a way to invoke an audience response, they’ll be with you.”

Capturing the audience has been a passion of the Houston native since the days she produced business training videos with Judy Cole, Spokane area manager at Washington Water Power Co. Cole no longer is affiliated with VanHyning’s company, J.M. Glasc Inc.

VanHyning has written speeches for WWP Chairman Paul Redmond; Central Pre-Mix Concrete Co. owner Mike Murphy; Shea, the president of Shea Construction Inc., and others. Many of her clients are conservative businessmen who have ties to Momentum ‘95, a powerful Spokane economic development group and also one of VanHyning’s best customers.

It’s a curious clientele for a 48-year-old single mother and artist, who once protested U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War.

But VanHyning says that’s one of her strengths when writing a speech - she knows how those outside the circle of Spokane’s business leaders think.

“The temptation for most speakers is to say ‘trust us, everything is marvelous, we’re spending your money wisely,”’ VanHyning says. “But in a crowd of 600 people, not everyone is going to agree with you. I like to address criticism before people can raise questions.”

As part of her fee, VanHyning writes a speech, prepares the speaker, helps organize the meeting and provides information on audience demographics. She takes clients through dress rehearsals in empty hallways, challenging them to reach their audience with passion.

“She can sit with me for half an hour and from that meeting produce a well-crafted speech with a lot of punch,” says Shea, whose references to childhood wishes and community spirit left many drying their eyes at the Momentum annual meeting in February. “She’s very intense about making sure it’s right.”

VanHyning, who likes to take eight-mile walks in the morning, puts clients through a ritual designed to avoid distractions and embarrassing moments. She tells them what to wear, what to eat and how to act before a speech. She makes women leave large handbags at home; men, jingling pocket change. Lying is forbidden, drinking before speaking is a cardinal sin.

“Most of us would rather have our tongues cut out than speak in front of 600 people,” she says. “The best way to counter stage fright and clammy hands is to simply be prepared.”

VanHyning spends hours researching topics at the public library, searching for the perfect quote. In Shea’s talk, she cited futurist Alvin Toffler and commentator Charles Kuralt. In a Redmond speech two years ago, she compared critics of economic growth to members of the 1939 Polish calvary who died battling German tanks.

“People pay me a great deal of money for expertise that I got for free,” VanHyning says.

Sometimes VanHyning’s speeches never get heard. VanHyning wrote several for speakers at the ceremonial opening of the Spokane Intercollegiate Research and Technology Institute. None of them were used.

VanHyning began speechwriting after winning numerous awards for business training videos, and landing a book deal with Infotrends Press of Los Angeles. The handbook, “Crossed Signals: How to Say No to Sexual Harassment,” was published in 1991.

From her office, on the second floor of her Five Mile Prairie home, VanHyning has begun work on an historic novel tentatively titled “Cloud Songs.” It will trace the life of a woman who leaves her husband at home to join the Women’s Air Force Service Pilots in World War II.

VanHyning also paints, covering her walls with canvasses taller than there 5-foot-4-inch frame. One of her favorites is “The Conductor,” a green-skinned close-up of an orchestra leader enraptured by the music.

“My instructors always said, ‘don’t paint green skin,”’ she says. “So, of course, I did.”

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Photo