Less than a week after Sonics owners issued their 30-day, $220 million ultimatum—a move that observers in city and state government, with stunning unanimity, regarded as a massive public-relations blunder—Starbucks CEO and Sonics owner Howard Schultz got a rare bit of positive PR, starring in a glowing 60 Minutes segment that mythologized Schultz’s ascension from “a poor kid growing up in a Brooklyn tenement to head of [the] Starbucks empire.”

In the piece, 60 Minutes reporter Scott Pelley takes Schultz to the apartment where he grew up, where Schultz stares at the door of Apartment 7G, talks about being “afraid to dream,” and even sheds a tear or two.

From the transcript:

Schultz is given to leaps of imagination. He had to be. He started out as a poor kid in Brooklyn who sold his own blood just to get through college.

PELLEY: So, this is the old neighborhood?

(Footage of Pelley and Schultz visiting neighborhood where Schultz grew up)

PELLEY: (Voiceover) But that is something he could never have imagined as a boy. Schultz grew up broke, living in this public housing project in Brooklyn. There are bullet holes in the door leading to apartment 7G.

Mr. SCHULTZ: That was my apartment.

PELLEY: When you were living here at the end of the hallway…

Mr. SCHULTZ: Yeah.

PELLEY: …age 15, age 16…

Mr. SCHULTZ: Yeah.

PELLEY: …what did you want to be? What was your dream?

Mr. SCHULTZ: You know, my dream was to get out. It was—I never allowed myself to dream beyond that. I was afraid to dream beyond that.

(Footage of photo of Schultz as a young boy with his father)

PELLEY: (Voiceover) Dreams, he told us, seemed futile after his father Fred was injured on the job.

Mr. SCHULTZ: This is the hallway I walked down at the age of seven and opened up that door and saw my father on a couch with a cast. And…

PELLEY: He’d broken his leg on the job.

Mr. SCHULTZ: He broke his leg on the job. He was a delivery driver picking up and delivering cloth diapers. Terrible job. When he fell on the job, he basically was turned loose. He was out of work. There was no hospitalization, no health insurance, no workmen’s compensation, and we were done as a family. And I saw the hopelessness, I saw the plight of a working class family. I saw the fracturing of the American dream firsthand, at the age of seven. That memory scarred me.

(Footage of customers in Starbucks; warehouse filled with bags of coffee beans)

PELLEY: (Voiceover) So now, Schultz has organized his company around that memory. He provides health insurance to employees who work as little as 20 hours a week. …

PELLEY: (Voiceover) When you pay 4 bucks for coffee, you’re funding Schultz’s social agenda—the health care, stock options for employees and more. He pays farmers higher than market rate for beans. Schultz got out of here but something about it never left him.

Mr. SCHULTZ: It’s all right.

PELLEY: What are you thinking?

Mr. SCHULTZ: Just everything that’s happened to me since standing here, how many times I walked through that door. I think there were many moments when people said, not to me directly, but I remembered hearing things that, `Don’t aim too high.’ Not my parents, but people. `You’re from Brooklyn, you’re from the projects. Don’t aim too high.’

Schultz’s commitment to his workers is laudable, but this gushing puff piece—which came out less than one week after Schultz’s attempt to blackmail the city into giving his team hundreds of millions of dollars—doesn’t do much to arouse sympathy.