Careers and corporations have been built on providing crisis communications counsel. Invariably, that advice boils down to Warren Buffet’s four succinct expectations in such situations: Get it right; get it fast; get it out; and get it over.”

As sage, yet conventional, as that advise may be, recent evidence shows that it has been little heeded in the three largest crisis situations in at least the last 70 years.

While graduate schools of communications and business will spend endless hours dissecting the actions of Toyota, Goldman Sachs and BP, a close reading of a 5100-word article in The New York Times, written by Peter S. Goodman, points to one common need among all three that is not listed on most crisis communications punch lists.

That one need is a sensitive and politically unpopular subject in C-Suites and board rooms, but it appears to be one that deserves closer examination and planning because, if for no other reason, it has fiduciary implications. That consistent variable is the CEO factor, the public impact that one person can have as the final fulcrum in corporate crisis decision-making.

What the Toyota, Goldman and BP cases show is that a CEO can become counterproductive, the ineffective center of media and public attention during a crisis. It also begs the question, “How public should the CEO be?” Indeed, we would argue, that in most cases a CEO’s public presence is extremely valuable, should be carefully tended to, used very selectively, and be made available only after considerable preparation. The CEO should not, we believe, be available at the media’s whim, but s/he should be a strategic commentator used sparingly to ensure maximum impact.

This, of course, tends to run counter to CEOs’ attitudes that lean toward considerable self confidence, a belief in their being capable of handling massive tasks, and even their occasional fear that subordinates might not phrase their thoughts exactly the way they would. And when uncertain, the CEO often sides with perceived caution, which usually means voting with the Legal Department over the Communications Department.

However, here are three cases that prove that sort of conventional CEO wisdom less than 100% on target.

Toyota

The Times article cites the obvious for Toyota, a company that “enjoyed immense good will” because of its reputation for manufacturing reliable, high quality, reasonably priced cars. It benefited from “cultural stereotypes” that envisioned it as a “disciplined Japanese corporation with uncompromising quality standards.”

Aiko Toyoda

These perceptions served the company well, helping it maintain sales momentum and profitability negating any management shortcomings.

As with many crisis situations, the problems sit at the confluence of two corporate power structures: Legal and Communications. Legal wants to raise the bridges, reinforce the walls and load the artillery. Communications wants to come clean, explain whatever failings may exist, promise remedial action and move on. Basically, the Buffet prescription for corporate crisis management.

As in so many cases, at Toyota the Legal Department won.

Denials of a problem were followed by claims of customer error, then recalls. Errant floor mats were followed by accelerator problems; then recalls. This drip method of disclosure is never the solution to a crisis; it merely prolongs the public and media exposure.

The apex of the crisis approached as Toyota’s CEO, Aiko Toyoda apologized because “four precious lives have been lost.” A problem-solved news release soon followed, but that was contradicted by a US agency statement calling such any such claim “inaccurate and misleading.”

CEO Toyoda’s credibility was important not only for the auto maker, but for Japan as a whole “because Toyoda the man represents not only Toyota the company but, in effect, all made-in-Japan products.” CNN Money reported.

With this responsibility on his shoulders, Toyoda testified before Congress (2-10-10) and demonstrated a new problem: The CEO didn’t just dither in decision making, he wasn’t very effective in reaching out and making Americans understand and feel safe and comfortable.

The Times characterized the Toyoda presentation as one delivered in “heavily accented English and read haltingly from his notes as a gray-suited assemblage of minders sat behind him, shifting nervously as he struggled to pronounce ‘condolences.’” Here’s the CSPAN video of the testimony.

While The Times’ description may be a bit dramatic, the situation brings into question the necessity for a CEO to become a company’s chief spokesperson.

Toyoda followed his Congressional presentation with an employee meeting that was covered by the media and a slot on the Larry King show, which were handled in a similar delivery fashion as the uncomfortable Congressional testimony.

Toyoda was presenting himself as a penitent atoning for his company’s sins. While his sincerity is not in question, his effectiveness is. The question must be: “Can your chief spokesman effectively understand and connect with your target stakeholders?” If he cannot, you must reassess your selection of spokesperson — CEO or not.

Goldman Sachs

If Toyota began its travail with a foundation of public trust, Goldman Sachs first became familiar to the average American worker in the aftermath of a burst housing bubble and a global economy in near-collapse. Even though it was founded in 1869, Goldman only just appeared in the national consciousness, and that vision wasn’t good. Goldman became America’s poster boy representing wild financial excess that was simplistically condemned as “Wall Street.”

LLoyd C. Blankfein

Goldman was ridiculed as the leader of an industry that doled immense bonuses to its senior employees, conducted a business that was a total mystery to work-a-day Americans, and managed to make money by pitching both sides of the coin: ‘heads they won; tails you lost.’

Furthermore, the Securities and Exchange Commission, which is charged with regulating firms like Goldman, was under the gun from Washington for not having been sufficiently vigilant and, therefore, it was looking for an easy target to deflect media attention from itself.

The Times reported that discussions at the very top of Goldman’s hierarchy pitted the immediate full disclosure Communications Camp against the stonewall Legal Camp. As with Toyota, the dribble-out-information Legal side won.

Regardless of the winner, Chairman and CEO Lloyd C. Blankfein was intimately involved in decision-making and ultimately in charge.

In the Toyota situation, the offshore CEO could have legitimately demurred in favor of his North American head of operations. For Goldman, however, the possibility of sidestepping the responsibility of appearing before Congress was impossible.

What was possible, however, was fine-tuning Blankfein’s attitude and delivery so that he seemed more understanding of the criticism of his industry and his own empathy for stakeholders of the broader financial services industry.

Goodman of The Times wrote that “Goldman saw its troubles aggravated by ill-advised sarcasm,” coming from Blankfein. That overall tone was exacerbated by a condescending remark he made to a reporter from The Sunday Times of London in which he said that banking is “God’s work.”

Again, when a company chooses to make the CEO the lead horse publicly, it shouldn’t be surprised by the direction in which the company travels.

BP

BP’s public presence had multiple problems at the top.

First, they were conflicted. Should they get in front of the disaster — which they insisted would be of little ultimate consequence — and communicate accurately, fully and quickly. Should they hold back, which they did. Or should they just accuse someone else of the problem, which they also did.

Carl-Henric Svanberg

Second, BP’s chairman saw fit to enter the public fray, trumping his own CEO and showing his lack of nuance with American English.

On the first count, during Congressional testimony BP’s head of American operations, Lamar McKay, attempted to deflect culpability saying that, “BP, as a leaseholder and the operator of the well, hired Transocean to drill that well….”

Then, just moments later and from the adjacent chair, Transocean’s CEO Steven Newman said, “These events occurred after the well’s construction process was essentially complete” by his company.

Also coming in for a finger point of guilt from BP was another of its contractors, Halliburton, the global oil services company.

All three said, “Who, me? Not me.“

While the witness were certain of one thing — the well explosion was not their company’s fault — the top two C-levels were ham-handed in expressing themselves.

BP Chairman Carl-Henric Svanberg infamously told reporters during an impromptu news conference outside of the White House and following a meeting with Obama that, as for the folks at BP, “We care about the small people” of the Gulf of Mexico region.

Adding further insult, BP CEO Tony Hayward, began a dockside interview on the Gulf headed in the right direction expressing sincere regret for the disaster; then preceded to crash, creating a pile of rubble that will linger for years if not decades. Hayward told a TV crew:

“We’re sorry for the massive disruption this has caused to their lives. There’s no one who wants this thing over more than I do. I’d like my life back.”

Then, in an ill-timed effort to regain some semblance of personal life, Hayward hoped back to the UK for a long weekend of R&R during which he attended a yacht race, the epitome of elite leisure activity.

On the Gulf: BP'sTony Hayward

Svanberg and Hayward’s comments rang through the ears of America and the halls of Congress, and no one liked what the heard.

During Congressional testimony, the chairman of the House Energy Subcommittee on Oversight and Investigation, Rep. Bart Stupak, responded to CEO Hayward’s regrets and apologies:

“Mr. Hayward, you owe it to all Americans. We are not small people, but we wish to get our lives back. For the Americans who live and work on the Gulf coast, it may be years before they get their lives back. For the Americans who lost their lives on the rig, their families may never get their lives back. Mr. Hayward, I am sure you will get your life back, and with a golden parachute back to England. But we in America are left with the terrible consequences of BP’s reckless disregard for safety.”

Perhaps these are learning experiences for all communicators, CEOs and boards of directors.