Patterson Partners, Incorporated: Public Relations & Strategic Thinking

From Pastor’s Kid To Community Relations Liaison For The Largest Pork Processing Plant In The World

Tar Heel, N.C. -- Growing up as pastor’s kid from a small Pentecostal African-American church in Philadelphia and later in central New Jersey is a unique calling in and of itself. But little did Marvin Prioleau know that it would prepare him to become the Community Relations Liaison for the largest pork processing plant in the world.

As the community relations point man for Smithfield Packing Co. in Tar Heel, N.C., Marvin says he’s in the “people business.” With 5,500 employees working in its plant, and hundreds more working at plants elsewhere, Smithfield is one the largest employers in the state. Thirty-two thousand hogs are slaughtered, processed, packaged, and loaded onto trucks everyday where they wind up in neighborhood food stores or ships bound for overseas markets. North Carolinians and discriminating palates from around the world consume Smithfield barbeque, ribs, roasts and other pork specialties under the Smithfield Foods private label and other popular brand-names. Marvin, 41, is married and has two children, ages 16 and 10. As Community Relations Liaison, his job is to be the connection between the Fortune 500 company and the public.

It’s easy to understand why. Surrounding him are trophies, award plaques, certificates of recognition, and memorable photos collected over the years. One photo shows him proudly shaking the hand of President Bill Clinton at an NAACP State Convention he recently attended in South Carolina. Not far away hangs a wall-plaque expressing appreciation from the 2006 Hope Mills Chiefs football team for Smithfield’s support. Nearby is a certificate of appreciation from the Jack Monroe 24^th Annual Ride-A-Thon to Myrtle Beach for Smithfield’s “outstanding effort in support of research and education to conquer heart disease and stroke.” On another wall next to a display of tall shiny gold and silver trophies won by Smithfield athletic teams is a certificate of appreciation from the Elizabethtown VFW for Smithfield’s donation of hams for a special meeting they held.

His office, more like a command post, is a virtual hub of activity. As he is being interviewed, his phone rings off the hook from local and statewide nonprofit organizations looking for food donations, scholarship money, or sponsorships. He apologizes for the interruptions as he takes another call. It’s apparent that being a community relations liaison requires serious multi-tasking skills.

Behind his chair sits a rack of electronic equipment—monitors, VCR’s and DVD recorders which are used to broadcast the national news and run special internal programming for employees to view in the company’s two large cafeterias.

A caller wants to confirm that he’ll be in Raleigh tomorrow for a press conference to announce a new scholarship. His schedule’s tight. He’s due back in Fayetteville that evening. He’s a volunteer at the Fayetteville Track Club where he coaches 6 to 18-year-olds to run fast and dream big.

Marvin graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree from Virginia State, a historically Black university located in Petersburg. He majored in Administration of Justice with a dual minor in Social Work and Military Science. His hefty 6-foot, 205-lb. frame lent itself to playing football, but he chose instead to run for the track team, competing in the Indoor 60-yard dash, Outdoor 200, and 4x100-yd. Relay. As if that didn’t keep him busy enough, he was also a reserve officer in the ROTC. He says that prior to attending college he didn’t earn very high grades in high school. But while attending State, he grew to greatly admire some of his professors and became a better student. It was there that he began to experience a “transformation” in his life.

After graduation, he moved back home and got a job working in a juvenile prison where he was able to apply his Administration of Justice education. Still a little restless, he’d go to the library at night and search for federal jobs that would take him away from his hometown and afford him the opportunity to live on his own as a young adult. He landed an interview with the FBI, but was told that he needed experience working at another federal agency, like the Bureau of Prisons. Eventually, he was hired as an entry- level corrections officer assigned to the Federal Penitentiary of Atlanta, a maximum security prison.

“I was hired during the Carter administration. Right after the Cuban-prison uprising.”

He was sent to the Federal Law Enforcement Academy to receive his training where he graduated in the top 10 percent of his class.

It was at the maximum security prison that his skills working with inmates won the attention of his superiors and got him a quick promotion to senior officer, only one of four new recruits in the prison’s history to achieve that rank within four years.

Marvin’s superiors weren’t the only ones to recognize he was different from most of the officers. He says he won the respect and cooperation of the prisoners because he respected them first, many of whom who were lifers or serving sentences of 30 to 40 years in one of the roughest prisons in the system.

“I would call a meeting within the unit and tell the inmates that the warden had a project that needed to be done and that I wanted their recommendations on how to accomplish it.”

He said the prisoners would react in astonishment because most of the corrections officers behaved in an “institutionalized” manner. Their attitude seemed to be “do it our way or hit the highway,” Marvin says.

“When I explained to them that we could accomplish things better if we come together and agree on how to get it done, they were shocked.”

The day he got his promotion to senior officer his supervisor asked him where he wanted to go from there because he was rising through the ranks so quickly.

“As a senior officer in control of the system of gates and controls to keep the prisoners confined to their quarters, I had gone about as far as I could advance as a corrections officer. It’s kind of like, ‘Do I want to be a lieutenant for the rest of my life or do I want to move on to something else?’ I told him that I wanted to work in the field of human resources.”

Because he lacked formal education or training in HR, Marvin said he volunteered during his off-time to work in the prison’s human resources department where he learned as much as he could about the agency and what “made it tick.” As he learned of HR openings within the federal prison system, he would send off his resume. One day his perseverance paid off.

“I went back home for my vacation and while I was there I got a call from my superior. He asked me if I wanted to work in HR in Washington D.C. or stay at the prison. I thought he was joking and returned to work at the end of my vacation.”

When Marvin returned to work that Monday, the warden called him into his office and handed him his papers.

Next thing he knew the other officers had a going away party for him and gave him a brief case. When he got to Washington, he started as a Human Resources Trainee which lasted one year. He said he learned everything from filling out congressional forms to being moved every four months to different departments to get exposed to all areas of human resources. After the one-year training period was completed, he was offered a job as a Human Resources Specialist at a “country-club style” prison camp located at the Seymour Johnson Air Force Base in Goldsboro, N.C. where he worked for six years before taking a better paying position. He said he was contacted by a professional head hunter and was offered a job with Perdue Farms as a Senior Human Resources Representative. He stayed with Perdue for two years before moving on to Smithfield Packing Co. in April 1998.

Marvin began his career at Smithfield Packing Co. as an Employment Representative, but his rise to a key management position as Community Relations Liaison within the mammoth company wasn’t a straight line. He got there the old-fashioned way—he rose through the ranks. After working as an Employment Representative, he learned more about the internal operations of the company by becoming an Employment Manager over one of the departments on the meat processing floor.

Marvin seems to have borrowed some of the valuable people skills he learned on the floor of the Atlanta prison. He says in retrospect that he was kind of “hard-headed” when he insisted on working shoulder to shoulder with employees on the cutting line, something most managers wouldn’t do. He said he wanted to learn what their jobs were like and filled in for them when they needed to leave the line.

“How could I instruct them on learning something if I didn’t even know what I was talking about? I felt I had to learn how so I could understand how they felt about doing it.”

Gradually, he worked all areas of his department, gaining valuable insights. When Marvin got a promotion off the floor and back in the front office, he says the employees really surprised him.

He was particularly moved by the Hispanic employees who, he says, basically organized the whole party.

“They brought Mexican pizza, Jalapeno peppers with rice, taquitos, tacos, you name it. It made me cry,” he said with affection. “And everyone signed a card—the Blacks, Whites, Hispanics, everybody.” As a parting gift, he said they even gave him a nice sweater and a pair of pants.

After a few more strategic moves within the giant meat processing company, Marvin landed the Community Relations Liaison position.

The respect he earned on the floor still carries over to his current position as evidenced by the nodding of heads, waves, and thumbs-up he receives when he walks through the labyrinth of conveyor belts and machinery manned by his fellow workers. Perhaps he strikes them as someone they can relate to, someone like themselves. As the Community Relations Liaison, it’s Marvin’s job to take numerous groups and VIPs on personal tours of the cavernous plant. As he leads people around the plant, it’s easy to notice all of the friends he has made.

“I need to see you when I get off shift,” says one line worker above the din of machinery. Marvin moves his head up and down in acknowledgement.

Back in his office, Marvin says his biggest challenge is speaking in front of a television camera or speaking in public. Still, he says, this is where he belongs. He said it also pains him when people say things about Smithfield that he knows is untrue to advance their own personal agendas.

“We care about the employees. Without their hard work and dedication, we couldn’t accomplish what we do—being the largest pork processing plant in the world. We’ve built a new 11,000 sq. ft. employee medical clinic and pharmacy where a family can see a physician for only a $10 co-pay. For $100 per month an employee can get health coverage for his whole family,” Marvin says. “Smithfield pays hourly wages that average $12.32 per hour. We have employees who commute an hour and a half just to work here. I recently attended an event at Fayetteville State where we announced a $100,000 scholarship fund for the children and grandchildren of our employees. That’s nothing to scoff at.”

“I love people. If I can see a smile on their faces, that makes my day. I’m a giver. I love to give. If I can get the company to help an organization, a church or a school, and put a smile on their face, like the pictures on the wall. Especially kids at a school. That’s what I like to do.”