John Lindsay.

Jane Byrne.

Marion Barry.

If you don’t remember these names here’s a brief reminder. They have in common two things: first, they were all mayors of their respective cities of New York, Chicago and Washington, DC. And second, their careers as mayor pivoted around snowstorms.

In the case of Lindsay and Barry, both were already mayor when, in different years, horrendous snow swirled through their cities. For Lindsay it was his very first year as mayor, for Barry it was well into his term. In the case of Jane Byrne, she was a decided underdog in a primary challenge to the incumbent Mayor Michael Bilandic when the snow hit.

In all three cases the inept response of those in charge abruptly changed the political dynamic. Lindsay, the glamorous fresh-faced new hope of the Republican Party, sat atop an almost paralyzed snow-cleaning operation that left the city’s outer boroughs buried. By the time Lindsay had realized what was happening the voters of Queens had resolved to dump the would-be future president like a ton of snow. While they failed to oust him, Lindsay was so damaged he lost his Republican primary to a little-known Staten Island State Senator and barely survived as a Liberal Party nominee. His once bright future in national politics melted away.

Barry, unheeding of weather reports, sauntered to warmer climes for the Super Bowl, his televised presence amidst the swaying palm trees infuriating DC residents trapped beneath feet of snow, the DC road crews completely useless. Piled on top of other problems involving a powdered substance, Barry was soon an ex-mayor.

The snow factor worked in reverse for Byrne. The blizzard struck Chicago Democrats were so irked that they did the unthinkable and dumped Mayor Bilandic for Byrne.

The lesson in all of this, of course, is that when the snow comes the guy in charge needs to be in charge. And seen to be in charge – one of the most vital lessons of communication.

Both Pennsylvania and its state capital of Harrisburg just had a terrific snow storm this last week. Only when a state trooper on his personal detail informed popular Governor Ed Rendell that angry drivers were besieging the Governor’s detail with tales of being stranded on Pennsylvania Interstates did he realize his administration had seriously fouled things up. With snow clogging the streets of Harrisburg, essentially shutting down the state capital, a TV news crew knocked on the door of the Mayor Steven Reed’s home – only to find he was out of town.

Oops.

A flurry of activity ensued.

Can you say snowjob?