Perspective from the 19^th Hole is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus to use an image from my favorite sport, golf.  Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all my professional positions, including as press secretary in Washington, D.C. for a Democrat Congressman from Oregon (Les AuCoin), as an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, as press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and as a private sector lobbyist.  This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.  I could have called this blog “Middle Ground,” for that is what I long for in both politics and golf.  The middle ground is often where the best public policy decisions lie.  And it is where you want to be on a golf course.

I had forgotten about this, but one of my former partners reminded me and others of this the other day:

It has been 35 years since, with two partners, we started in business in a firm that became special because of its performance in the lobbying and strategic communications space.

Since 1990, as they say, the rest is history.

Rather than recount the history from my point of view, I choose to reprint my partner’s blog, which he entitles “Life Notes.”  It conveys information about three individuals – me, Gary Conkling and Pat McCormick — who weren’t sure they were entrepreneurs but became the same.

So, read on.

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CFM’s 35-Year-Old Origin Story

How Improbable Entrepreneurs Stumbled Into Success

More than 35 years ago, a college classmate, a co-worker and I decided to go out on a limb and start a public affairs company.  Friends thought we were nuts.  Our families were understandingly nervous.  The rest is history.

We were improbable entrepreneurs.  We had worked in the media, held government jobs and represented a large company.  None of us dreamed of launching a business venture or becoming a tycoon.  Then circumstances conspired to plant the seed of an extraordinary idea.

We didn’t have to search each other’s backgrounds.  We knew our collective strengths and quirks. Like many other people who have started a business, we just dove into deep water.

The CFM Backstory
Dave Fiskum and I worked on the same college newspaper in Seattle.  A few years after we graduated and found newspaper jobs, Dave recommended me for news editor at The Daily Astorian where he covered city government.

While working together in Astoria, we met Pat who was the top lieutenant in Oregon for newly-elected Congressman Les AuCoin.  Eventually, all three of us worked for AuCoin – Dave and I in Washington, D.C. and Pat heading his Portland congressional office.

Before our public affairs adventure, Dave logged 15 years in Oregon state government, including as press secretary for Governor Vic Atiyeh and in management positions in the Human Resources, Economic Development, and Executive departments.  Pat served as staff director for House Speaker Hardy Myers and later represented the Oregon electronics industry in Salem.

After helping newly elected Congressman Ron Wyden get established in his first term, I (Gary Conkling) came back to Oregon as public affairs director for Tektronix.

When Tektronix fell on hard times, the idea of starting a public affairs firm popped into my head as a last-ditch alternative to being laid off.  While skeptical, Dave was interested.  Pat, who by this time had gone to work for Oregon’s most prominent PR and advertising firm, egged us on and promised to join us if we took the plunge.

The Business Plan
Step one, we were repeatedly told, was writing a business plan.  One of my lawyer friends privately advised that I may know communications, but I didn’t know squat about business plans.  He was right. 

I did as much research as time allowed, drafted a plan, then shared it with Pat, Dave and a few trusted colleagues and potential clients.  It turned out to be an unnecessary and stressful exercise.

When word spread the three of us were hitching our wagons to form a public affairs team, we got recruited, mostly by law firms.  Nobody asked us for a business plan.  Instead, we were courted with stories of how we would fit into existing organizations.  It felt good to be wanted after fearing we would be fired. 

We chose to align with Stoel Rives.  Its pitch was simple:  The law firm didn’t want former Tektronix employees like us siphoning off work from one of their biggest clients.  They offered us downtown office space, reserved parking, computer support, an office manager, and access to corporate billing and human resource systems.  They also offered a generous credit line, which we never needed to access.

A friend needled me that public affairs professionals were talking heads not brainy businessmen.  Maybe so.  But we were fast learners and had top-notch mentors at Stoel Rives.  Most important, we had good clients who respected our skills and paid our invoices on time.

We outgrew our relationship with the law firm and set up shop on our own.  We took Donna McClelland, our original Stoel Rives office manager, with us and she stayed until her retirement.

Surprise and Relief
When I broke the news of our spinoff plan to our boss and good friend Chuck Frost, he was taken aback.  I assured him we weren’t leaving mad; we were leaving for a good reason.  I said we viewed our departure as a friendly Tektronix spinoff.  Interestingly, maps depicting the evolution of the Silicon Forest include CFM as a Tek spinoff.

Chuck sold our spinoff to top management by stressing the company would retain our services at less cost and no personnel overhead.  For a desperately downsizing company, that was a no-brainer.  The embattled CEO even made a point of shaking my hand, albeit in the men’s restroom at corporate headquarters.

After he retired from Tektronix, we invited Chuck to be our in-house conscience and offer advice on sticky client work.  He was a huge influence on me and how I conducted myself as a lobbyist and community leader for what was then Oregon’s largest employer.  Until his death in 2016, his advice was solid gold.

Choosing Our Company Name
My ideas for a colorful company name were shot down by Pat and Dave.  Pat argued, it turned out correctly, that our own names were the best way to gain market recognition for the new firm.

Thus, our tongue-twister name became Conkling, Fiskum and McCormick.  We used a tagline to identify what we did.  As Pat predicted, we quickly became known simply as CFM.

Over the course of 35 years, our name has changed a few times as we tried to convey the scope of what we do.  The most recent change to CFM Advocates says the most in the fewest words.   However, most people still call us CFM.

Recruiting Clients
Before departing Tektronix, we made quiet overtures to potential clients.  The first client to sign up was the Providence Health System, which had never retained an outside lobbying firm before us.  Dave took the lead on Providence even as I got to know the Providence CEO by being a recurring patient at St. Vincent Hospital.  Because of Dave’s outstanding work, Providence remains a CFM client today.

We also attracted high tech firms, including Tek-spinoff Mentor Graphics, that had seen and benefitted from our work with the Oregon Chapter of the American Electronics Association.  Pat planted the electronics industry on the policy map for the governor and lawmakers.

My role as co-founder of the Business-Education Compact landed us a lobbying gig for the Beaverton School District.  That started the firm’s continuing relationship with Oregon public education – and led to a string of gubernatorial vetoes of bills that would allow high-growth school districts to acquire school sites outside urban growth boundaries.  I live nearby one of the school sites the Beaverton School District was eventually able to acquire.

CFM has enjoyed a long relationship with Oregon’s wine industry and many of its pioneers.  We got the job after the industry’s original lobbyist lost his temper at a legislative hearing and flipped off the committee chairman.  Willamette Valley Vineyards founder Jim Bernau was a strong CFM supporter and bottled a special Pinot Noir for a CFM anniversary.

The Oregon Graduate Institute in Hillsboro was an early client that hired CFM to convince the legislature to fund engineering education and research.  We succeeded and later OGI’s Norm Eder joined CFM as a partner specializing in big, long-term projects like the Willamette Water Supply project, which after a decade of work will finally be finished in 2026.

Pat introduced CFM to ballot measure campaigns that dealt with divisive issues such as doctor-assisted suicide, genetically altered crops and Liberty Mutual’s effort to brush aside the State Accident Insurance Fund (SAIF) as Oregon’s sole workers’ compensation provider. 

Pat influenced our thinking that strategic communications is only strategic when based on solid research.  He cultivated a close relationship with Tom Eiland, a veteran researcher who had put out his own shingle.  Over time, Tom’s and our practice overlapped so often, we invited him to become a CFM partner.  As a result, research infused our entire practice.  Along the way, Tom pioneered online focus groups, which played a critical role in passage of a major Oregon transportation package.  Tom died last year.

Fear and Exhilaration
Starting a new business is a mix of exhilaration and fear.  We fortunately got off to a strong start with blue-blood clients, but we wondered what would it take to sustain our practice over the long haul?  What services should we offer?  Should we add staff and, if so, to do what?  How would we judge success?  What level of profitability did we want to achieve? 

Dave, Pat and I held our first partner retreat in a condo near Lincoln City to discuss those and other questions.  One of the earliest decisions we made was not to represent tobacco interests, despite the huge commissions they offered to provide PR for their campaigns.  Instead, we chose to work for anti-tobacco advocates for far less money but a lot more satisfaction.  CFM’s anti-tobacco work was honored with the Public Relations Society of America’s highest honor, the Silver Anvil Award.

The three of us didn’t always agree, which in retrospect was a strength.  But there never was a moment of doubt all of us wanted long-term success without sacrificing our honor or good judgment.  Not all our clients were saints, but they had legitimate issues we helped them resolve.

The vibe at CFM today is different, yet very similar.  Younger people who now own and run the firm share CFM’s long-time commitment to principled advocacy.  They added that promise to the firm’s logo.

As for the three founders, Dave continues to golf and chairs the Oregon Ethics Commission.  Pat is “retired” but still joins CFM teams to work on teacher strikes and roll out new major infrastructure projects.  As for me, I’m still on the clock.  Advocacy, it appears, is a hard drug to kick.