Fast Times At FCB High

Catastrophes That Weren’t My Fault

1 Comment

Posted on October 15, 2013

Before I draw the curtain on my idyllic days in Detroit, I wanted to set the record straight. There were some catastrophes that occurred that weren’t my fault. I’m not trying to deflect blame, but rather point out the fact that I was nowhere near the scene of the crime. Multi-billion dollar corporations always make mistakes, but because of their size, the mistakes tend to be huge. They continue, however, to make billions of dollars. Here are a few examples of “too big to fail.”

Asleep At The Switch

GM had a division called GM Photographic. GM ad agencies were instructed to give all of their photostat work to this group. Additionally, they were automatically given the printing jobs for all Chevrolet car brochures, much to the dismay of local Detroit-area printers. And so it was when Campbell-Ewald and Chevy decided to do a pre-printed full-line insert to appear in Reader’s Digest. The “Digest” had a huge circulation, larger than many major national magazines combined. And, even though the page size was very small, the magazine was able to sell itself as an efficient way to reach millions of readers. With this in mind, the agency created a 12-page insert to be bound into an upcoming issue of the magazine. Because of the size of the run, 9 million copies, GM Photographic was automatically award the printing job. They were to print, collate, and bind 9 million inserts and ship them in time to appear in the next available issue of Reader’s Digest. The printing plates were produced and delivered to the GM Photographic presses. Soon, 9 million Americans would see”What’s New Today In A Chevrolet.”

The press proof check went well. The insert looked wonderful. The order was given to throw the switch. The green “On” button was pressed, and the gigantic web litho machines came to life. On to the next project. Several days later, it takes a long time to print 9 million of anything, the agency received a call from the shipper scheduled to send dozens of shipping pallets to Reader’s Digest. “Uh,” the shipper said, “you might want to come and take a look at your insert.” The agency’s head of print production sped over. What he saw made his blood run cold. The shipper handed him a finished insert. The color was out of register. During four-color printing, the different color plates have to line up perfectly. If not, the text and photos look like something from a 3-D comic book. Our production manager called the Account Man (not me) and the client. When they arrived, they opened the rest of the bundle on the pallet. All of them were out of register! The GM Photographic rep was called over. He tried to explain that this was very definitely an isolated thing and challenged the Chevy client to randomly pick any bundle on the dozens of pallets to see that they had been printed correctly. The client did. He picked hundreds of bundles, several from each pallet. They were all wrong! I wasn’t there, but I’m pretty sure there was a lot of screaming and shouting, as well as some sobbing. On a press run this large, someone is supposed to monitor the printing every so often to make sure that something like this doesn’t happen. Nobody did. In fact, we later found out that the man running the press had…wait for it…wait for it…fallen asleep at the switch. GM Photographic was forced to reprint all 9 million at their expense. I think the executions took place in the basement of the GM Building.

Those Pesky Typos

When you have a huge ad budget, you can buy lots of media, requiring lots of advertising. In 1976, Chevy’s ad budget was in excess of $100 million, the largest single ad account in the country. I came up with, what I thought, was a brilliant idea. The U.S. population that year was 218 million. Approximately 20 million were, what could we could call, new car purchase intenders. Why not take the $100 million ad budget and give it to a research company to visit each of these people for ten minutes and tell them how great Chevy was? If only one in ten did, that meant that 2 million people would buy a Chevy. I took the idea to Doug Allison, the head of Campbell-Ewald’s Research Department. He was so disheartened by the idiocy of my idea that he and Herb Fisher, the head of our Multi-Products Group, left the agency and started a little research company called Allison-Fisher. Oh well, maybe it wasn’t a good time to stop advertising, what with everyone wrapping themselves in American glory for the Bi-Centennial. Chevy was no exception. For ’76, Chevy had a theme “The Spirit of America.” They came out with special Spirit of America models; white cars with red and blue pinstripes. We used our huge ad budget to wrap ourselves in red, white, and blue. With that much media, a lot of ads had to be prepared. Sometimes they were put together too quickly. If you are going to represent the Spirit of America, it would behoove one to check for typos. A lot of people may see your mistake.

Building Roulette

Clients. naturally, like to have their ad agency close to them. They can summon a quivering Account Man at a moment’s notice, and they don’t have to travel very far to visit the agency. Thus it was for Chevrolet and Campbell-Ewald. Chevy was on the 2nd floor of the GM Building, Campbell-Ewald on the 4th. The agency was never more than five minutes away. In the early 1970’s, the agency was informed that Chevrolet was moving to the GM Tech Center in Warren, Michigan. The agency was informed that they would be expected to relocate also. At that time, the largest office facilities in the area were a large Little Caesar’s, a Towne Club pop retail store (soda for non-Midwesterners), and Bob Thibodeau Ford. The decision was made to buy property on Van Dyke in Warren, across from the GM Tech Center. Plans were drawn up. Ground was broken. 30400 Van Dyke was going to be our new home. Until Chevy changed General Managers. Tom Adams visited the new Chevy GM, Jim McDonald, to update him on our building’s progress. “Why are you putting up a building in Warren?” Jim asked. Tom said, “So we can be across the street from you when you move out there.” Jim said, “We’re not leaving Detroit, and neither are you.” Tom excused himself. We scrambled to find tenants. Fortunately, the area was growing, so we were able to lease a lot of the space. Campbell-Ewald carried this real estate albatross around it’s neck until there was a regime change at Chevy. Campbell-Ewald was told that Chevy was moving out to the GM Tech Center, and that the agency as expected to follow them. Campbell-Ewald said, “No problem! We might have a building we can use.” Of course, once GM announced that they were moving their corporate offices downtown to the RenCen on the Detroit River waterfront, Campbell-Ewald knew that they were going to have to pull up stakes and “follow the money.” They took space in a warehouse complex that was once part of the massive J. L. Hudson store, next to, ironically, Ford Field. I’m glad they’ve come home.

Next: These Guys Are A Lot Different From GM!

Becoming A Non-Person

The Clouds Part

1 Comment

Posted on October 7, 2013

As a small boy growing up on the Detroit’s Westside, meaning West of Woodward, I knew nothing of the world of leveraged buy-outs, stock swaps, and conglomerates. My father had worked as the credit manager for Detroit Steel Products, makers of the Fenestra line of industrial windows and casements. Their office was at 2250 East Grand Boulevard. One day I went to work with my father. We passed a behemoth of a building on West Grand Boulevard. I was awe-struck by its size. “Tom,” he said, “that’s the General Motors Building. They’re the biggest company in the world.” While studying advertising at Michigan State, I knew that ad agencies were founded by people with a creative and business vision. The big ones were privately held, and had the founders’ names on the door. If you worked hard, someday you might become a partner and share in the profits. Imagine my surprise when we all got the memo that Campbell-Ewald had been purchased by something called the Interpublic Group. The memo told us all that “nothing would change except our ability to access the resources of our sister companies.” Also, we were all now urged to buy stock in Interpublic.

There was, however, one very visible change. We could all tell who had just become millionaires by the Cheshire cat grins on their faces. One EVP told me, “My stock split 4 to 1!” He felt compelled to tell me how many shares of Campbell-Ewald stock he was converting, knowing full well that I’d do the math in my head. Oh well, maybe now he could afford to buy better suits and get his teeth fixed. Our Chevrolet client was unfazed. Interpublic already owned McCann-Erickson, the Buick and GMC agency. The germ of a question was planted in my head. Privately held agencies lived to work for their clients, publicly held agencies lived to work for their stockholders. Would the creative product suffer? Yes, make the client successful, just do it with fewer people and less overhead. I’m all for fiscal responsibility, but there are times when responsibility takes a back seat to common sense. We all knew what our T&E budgets were. Near the end of the year we were told how much under or over budget we were. Being good financial stewards, most of us were under budget. The word got out to the Account Men that the “use it or lose it” rule was being applied by the new bean counters. If an Account Man didn’t use all of his T&E, then, obviously, his allocation was too high and needed to be cut for the next year. Our Chevy clients loved this rule. It meant that lunches and dinners would rain down on them during the last eight weeks of the year.

Every so often, a creative team hits a dry spell. It happens. The only problem comes when the dry spell comes during a spell of slow sales and client angst. Thus it was in the late Summer of 1977. The Evil Imports were gaining market share on the West Coast. Sadly, our direction was “We’ll know it when we see it.” In desperation, I prepared another Creative Planning Request (CPR) outlining the need for a “hard-hitting” Chevette magazine ad that had a ‘sense of urgency” to it. We were driving people happy…just not enough of them. The creative team and I had a heart to heart. We knew that the best plan was to improve the products. We, however, weren’t in control of that. So we pressed on. A week later, I was summoned to their office for the grand unveiling of the ad.

The art director and the writer both enjoyed seeing me gasp for breath as I clutched my chest. “I can’t present this!” I said. ” The client will go nuts.” After they knew that my paroxysm wasn’t going to be fatal, they pulled out another ad for me to present. We all hoped that this one would drive more people happy…and quickly.

Summer had evolved into Fall of 1997. It was October 20. On the previous day, the New York Giants had beaten the Lions 26-20 in overtime, with a 68 yard pass from Danny Kannel to Chris Calloway. Oh well, what else was new. I was staring out of my office window which now had a view of West Grand Boulevard…similar to the “ocean view” touted in Southern California real estate ads. “See that smudge of blue haze around that building and through those trees? That’s the ocean!” My phone rang. My secretary said that a Joan Baeder was on the phone. Realizing that it wasn’t an angry client, I took the call. “Hello, Tom, she began, “my name is Joan Baeder and I work for Judy Wald-West. Have you heard of us?” I lied and said yes. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?” she asked. This sounded like it could be one of those conversations where you needed the door closed. I got up and closed it. “Tom, we’ve been hired by an advertising agency in LA that handles a Japanese car account, I got your name from a friend (it’s always a “friend”) and was wondering if I could talk to you about the position?” The clouds were beginning to open. “Uh, sure,” I said. Foote, Cone & Belding/Honig was looking for an account supervisor to work on the Mazda account. We both decided it would be best to continue this conversation later after I got home. I would also be able to rewrite my resume to more closely match what they were seeking. Editorial note: Hey, you’ve all done it. FCB and Mazda had become famous for the rotary engines that went “hummmmmm” while piston engines went “boing, boing, boing.” Here’s an RX-3 spot that was definitely not politically or NHTSA correct.

Our conversation that evening went very well. It ended with the always scary, “We’ll get back to you.”

Well, they did. Joan told me that they wanted to meet me. Fortunately, I had some vacation left and took two days off to head to LA. FCB was then located on 6th Street, behind Lafayette Park in an area euphemistically “Lower Mid-Wilshire.” For those of you who know a little about LA geography, the office was a few blocks away from MacArthur Park. They put me up at the stately Sheraton Town House Hotel, next to Lafayette Park. I introduced myself in the FCB lobby and was called back to meet with Denny Remsing. Denny was the Management Supervisor on the account. The job I sought reported to him. He was an ex- Detroiter, and one of the nicest people in the ad business. We talked about college, he went to Western Michigan, and some of the mutual friends we had in Detroit. We went to meet with Paul Repetto, the EVP and General Manager of the agency. I met with Jack Foster, the Creative Director. He had taken the day off to paint his house, but came in to see me. Then I was taken to see Lou Scott, the President of FCB/H. The day passed very quickly, and seemed to go well. Everyone was very friendly, and the offices were bright and cheery. But, with my luck,, I knew that Mazda would fire FCB any second, and crush my dream.

The call came after dinner about three long weeks later. I got the job!! They wanted me out there right away. Interpublic had this rule on cashing out your profit-sharing account. When you resigned, the date was rolled back to either July1, if you resigned in the last half of the year, or January 1, if you resigned before July 1. If I was going to afford a house in LA, I couldn’t afford to pass up almost six months of profit-sharing. In any case, we were going into the Thanksgiving and Christmas vacation periods. There were only three weeks of actual work left. FCB agreed to have me start on 1/5/78. I would resign on the morning of 1/3/78, and race for my life for the door. I was going back to LA!!!!!!!!

Next: Becoming A Non-Person

Another “Close But No Cigar”

1 Comment

Posted on October 2, 2013

America and Chevrolet had survived the Bicentennial. I had learned that playing cards at The Recess Club was a very bad idea. We settled into the task of churning out ads. Denizens of the GM Building soon discovered that the fastest way of getting from the 4th Floor (Campbell-Ewald) to the 2nd Floor (Chevrolet) was to take the interior stairs. The elevators took too long, and you always ran the risk of a Ford or Chrysler spy seeing the layout for the newest Vega ad you were carrying down for approval. There were over a dozen Account Men calling on as many clients. The stairway climbs began about 8:30 AM and continued well past 6:00 PM. Up and down. Up and down. If someone were able to cut away the outside of the GM Building, we would appear to be worker ants carrying around bits of food and waste. The only times we took the elevator were for lunch, or to go up to the 10th Floor (GM Legal) to be scolded.

On the role of women in the workplace front, not much had changed since the infamous Christmas party of 1971. Apparently, Account Men, especially the married ones, had to be protected from the sharp talons of home-wrecking husband-hunters. And the Personnel Department took this responsibility seriously. One of our married Account Men had taken a liking to a secretary in the Media Department. The “casual” desk walk-by soon evolved into the “Hey, you must have lots of boyfriends,” fishing expedition, then to the “Hey, if you’re free, I’d be honored to buy you lunch,” gambit, then onto the deal-sealer, “Hey, you know what? I hear that the food at Lelli’s (when there was still one on Woodward) is great. How about we have dinner there tomorrow?” There then followed a succession of lunches and dinners. The Account Man was certain that after his next dinner, at Topinka’s, he would be able to whisk the lady across the street to the Howard Johnson’s Inn. There was one small problem. Putting the moves on a secretary at Campbell-Ewald was a lot like walking around in church without any pants on. It sure felt good, but everyone immediately knew about it. The morning of the expected HoJo Hoedown arrived, with a note from the VP- Personnel on the Account Man’s desk. “Please see me right away,” it said. He went over to Personnel and was told to come in, close the door, and sit down. The Director got right into it. “You’ve been seen squiring (yes, he said squiring) a woman from Media around for lunches and dinners. I don’t know how to tell you this, but she’s desperately looking for an Account Man she can sink her hooks into to help her raise her kids. My advice to you is to stop seeing her. To continue to do so could ruin your career. In fact, take a look at this.” The Director opened his desk, took out a piece of paper, and handed it to the Account Man. On it were the names of ten secretaries…the Media lady was #4 on the list. “These women,” the Director said, “are known to be of easy virtue and have loose morals. I would advise you to not be seen in the company of any of them.” After the meeting, the Account Man told me about the meeting. I asked him if this was going to make him change his ways. His answer parroted the punch line about the hell-raising young man in Ireland who went to confession to tell the priest that he’d had sex with one of the village girls. “Was it Bridget?” the priest asked. “Mary? Cathleen? Megan? Ann? Margaret? Not Siobhan?” When he emerged from the confessional, the boy’s friends asked him if he’d confessed. “No,” he said, “but I’ve got some great new leads!”

The news of Datsun firing Parker signaled that yet another Import felt that it had outgrown its agency. Toyota had already kicked Clinton E. Frank to the curb in favor of Dancer, Fitzgerald, Sample in 1975. Honda, also in 1974, fired a little known LA agency called Chiat/Day and moved the business to Needham, Harper & Steers. Now it was Datsun’s turn. The ad agency feeding frenzy began. I was sitting at my desk, writing off my gambling losses, when the phone rang. It was George Beech. He was a part of the William Esty team pitching Datsun. He said that he was in town, and that a “friend” suggested that he might like to meet with me. Hmmm, if they get the account and hire me, I’m on my way back to LA and a free car! Since it had worked so well before, I suggested we meet for breakfast at the Elias Brothers Big Boy near my house. Our breakfast the next day went very well. They were going to fly me to NYC to meet “the team.” I took a couple of vacation days and went. The William Esty main lobby closely resembled the wood paneled grandeur of the New York Yacht Club. I’m convinced that 90% of all mahogany in the U.S at the time was used in the Esty lobby. Seated at a grand desk was a receptionist. I introduced myself. She smiled and pointed to a large display case behind her. It was filled with cartons of cigarettes. “Mr. Cavanagh,” she said, “please help yourself to several cartons of your favorite brand.” Esty was one of the lead agencies for R.J. Reynolds, makers of Camel, Winston, Doral, Pall Mall, and Salem, to name several. When I told her that I didn’t smoke, she looked at me as if I had just desecrated the U.S. flag. I waited, uncomfortably, for my summoning. Someone came out to bring me back to an office. The mahogany stopped when you left the lobby. The decor was now old New York City skyscraper shabby. I met with a few people and found out that the “LA team is all set.” If they hired me, I would be working in New York. I also sensed a great deal of confusion on Esty’s part as to how to organize the account. There would be a “client contact” team in LA, and the oompah-loompahs in NY who actually did the work. I figured that Esty didn’t stand a chance of getting the business, so I politely ended discussions with them after I got back to Detroit. Imagine my surprise when I heard the news that they had won the Datsun account. Oh well, if at first you don’t succeed…

With a new sense of purpose, and the knowledge that I wasn’t going to ever become Chairman of Campbell-Ewald because nobody had told me that I was the “crown prince” in-waiting, I trudged on and hoped that I never really screwed anything up. The Chevrolet National Car Account had a SVP-Management Supervisor, a VP-Account Director, and four Account Executives. I was handling the National Small Car Account. The fellow handling the National Big Car Account had left the agency, leaving an opening. At this time, Campbell-Ewald also handled Ramada Inn. Their headquarters were in Phoenix , AZ. As part of our client service, we stationed a young Account Man in Phoenix. We had become friends when he worked in Detroit in what the agency called the Multi-Products Group…which meant everything except Chevy. During the Summer of 1977, the temperature in Phoenix was averaging about 283 degrees during the day, while it plummeted to 195 degrees at night. I mentioned to him that there was a spot on the Chevy account that had just opened up that he might be interested in. And, it was only going to be 95 in Detroit. Shortly after that, Tony Hopp left Phoenix to return to Detroit as the National Big Car guy on Chevy at Campbell-Ewald. I wonder whatever happened to him?

Next: The Clouds Part

Onion Soup

2 Comments

Posted on September 26, 2013

We left San Dimas a better place. No Chevettes were injured in the filming of the commercial. I, however, had to do some serious damage control. Friends, family, neighbors, and real estate people were told that the whole Parker/Datsun thing was a false alarm. Time to make the best of the approaching Michigan winter. One of the great things about being the “Small Car Guy” was the opportunity to work on Corvette. Corvette!!!! The love child of Martin Milner and George Maharis. The name carried great cache. At a cocktail party, casually dropping the fact that you “did” Corvette advertising was like saying that you were the manager of The Rolling Stones. Originally designed by the legendary Harley Earl, the Corvette was introduced in 1953 at the New York Motorama. A young engineer named Zora Arkus-Duntov saw it there, falling in love with the design, but being disappointed with what was under the skin. He wrote GM, offering some ideas. They hired him, and Zora became know as the “Father of the Corvette.”

Corvette’s 25th Anniversary was approaching. A special edition 1978 Corvette was already booked as the Pace Car of the 1978 Indy 500. We were going to produce a magazine ad commemorating the anniversary. The headline was “25 Years Of Men, Machines And Memories.” We shot the very first Corvette parked next to the current model. Knowing that there were a lot of rabid Corvettophiles out there, we had Chevy’s product specialists go over the artwork, checking its technical accuracies. Sure enough, within a week of the ad appearing, the Chevy Ad Department forwarded to me a nasty letter from self-styled “Corvette expert.” “You idiots,” the letter said, “the ’53 Corvette only had two convertible top tie-down buckles, the Corvette you show has four! You goofed.” Hhmmm. Pretty sure that the Chevy product specialists knew their stuff, but I had to respond to the letter. I called one of the specialists, who suggested that I go to the horse’s mouth. He gave me Zora Arkus-Duntov’s home phone number. Zora had retired from Chevy two years earlier, so I didn’t know whether he wanted to be bothered. I called, and he answered. He explained, “Tom, the ad’s correct. The very first production models had four. We found out that we could use only two and save a few cents about thirty vehicles in to the initial production run. In fact, they borrowed that car from me for the shoot.” I expressed my thanks and told him about the nasty letter. “Tom,” he said, “give him my home number. I’ll talk to him.” I did. And he did.

There were also some great large-scale media lunches. CBS Spot Radio Sales would have great lunches at The Recess Club. KNX would bring in their on-air celebrity,Chef Mike Roy, to prepare an incredible meal. I got word that Sunset Magazine was going to do an industry luncheon in Detroit. I called a friend back in LA who was a Sunset mag rep to confirm the rumor. The Sunset lunches in LA were legendary. They consisted of all the Dungeness crab, sourdough bread, caesar salad, and California chardonnay you could consume. They were bringing this Bacchanal to The Raleigh House on Telegraph. I made a simple request: can you get me on the Detroit invite list? No problem! I brought Gary Anderson, another Account Man, with me. Gary’s father had been one of my first Chevy Field clients. By the time we got out to The Raleigh House in Southfield, there weren’t many tables left. I chose a table near the kitchen were Gary and I would be the only two seated there. The all-you-can-out lunch surpassed my wildest hopes. After the Sunset speechifying, people began to drag themselves back to their cars. I told Gary to wait a few moments. Our waiter had been a kindly, elderly gentlemen. I called him over. “Sir,” I said, “do you know if they have any “extra” crab in the kitchen?” He told me that Sunset had vastly over-ordered on the number of meals, and the staff was wondering what to do with the leftovers. I gave him a $10 bill and asked him if he could grab a couple of crabs for us. About ten minutes later he reappeared with two 33-gallon garbage bags full of crab and bottles of chardonnay. Gary and I casually walked out of The Raleigh House with large bags slung over our shoulders. I still love Sunset Magazine!

The Recess Club was nestled across the street from the GM Building, in the Fisher Building. It was a very nice social/dinner club that every young Account Man was expected to join. Serving lunch and dinner in the main dining room, it was a great place for client lunches or dinner before seeing a play at the Fisher Theater. The real attraction, however, was the Men’s Grill. The ultimate man cave. No women allowed. Upon entering, one was wrapped in the sweet aromas of cigarettes, cigars, spilled beer, and juicy cheeseburgers. A pool table dominated the center of the eating area. A wonderfully stocked bar was against the left wall. A carefully-timed arrival would reveal a mag rep waiting to buy a client, any client, a drink. Against the far wall of the grill was the door to the health club. There, the iron fingers of masseur Henri Nussbaum could knead away the tensions of a creative presentation gone bad. There was a steam room where one could find out more about a GM client than necessary. The exercise machines helped work off the aggression that, if displayed at a meeting, could abruptly truncate a career. The real center of business, however, was the card table next to the bar.

One evening I made the mistake of going into the men’s grill after work. My wife was going to dinner and a movie with friends, so I thought I’d grab a burger and a beer, and watch the Tigers. As I entered, I heard the cry, “Hey Tom, come over here and sit with us.” It was Dick O’Neil, the SVP-Management Supervisor on the car account. He was sitting at a table with what could be called the all-star line-up of GM ad and marketing heavy breathers. Dick introduced me around. “This is great!” I thought. Dick said, “Come on, sit and play cards with us.” It was then I noticed that they were playing gin rummy. I know how to play gin rummy, but I’d rather play with undetonated hand grenades. But, I couldn’t pass up this chance to rub elbows with raw power. The bartender came up to our table. “Another round, gents?” he asked. Dick said yes. “Tom, do you want some onion soup?” Well, I was going to have a hamburger, but soup sounded good. “Sure,” I said. Five minutes later the bartender returned, carrying six glasses (more like large bowls) of vodka, each containing about eight cocktail onions. Onion soup!! It all went downhill from here. The cards kept being dealt, the soup kept coming, everyone was laughing at my jokes. Who needed food? The cocktail onions and bar peanuts satisfied my hunger. This was turning into a wonderful evening. I noticed that no money was on the table or being exchanged. I asked Dick about this. “Club rules prohibit playing cards for money.” Whew! Now I was really having fun, realizing that I hadn’t won a single hand all evening.

The club was closing, it was time for us to call it an evening. Everyone got up to leave, shaking hands with me as they left. I decided that I needed to go to the restroom before leaving. As I emerged back into the grill, the bartender asked, “Mr. Cavanagh, what’s your membership number?” “283,” I said.

I came back to the men’s grill for lunch two days later. As I sat down I looked at the wall behind the bar. I had always noticed the large pegboard with hooks and member numbers above each hook. Today, I noticed that five of the member numbers had large stacks of round metal discs on them. I got up and approached the board with some curiosity. What were all the tags doing there? Then my blood ran cold! Each tag had the number 283 written on it. I asked the bartender to explain this to me. “Well, Mr. Cavanagh, you lost big the other night. Each of the people you lost to now has a tag with your number on their member hook. Actually, lots of tags. Each tag can be redeemed for a drink” Each of my “new friends” had twelve tags with the number 283 on it…50 drinks!!!! I was out almost $300. I ran back to Dick’ office. I couldn’t afford $300. Dick told me not to worry. “It may take you a while, but you can always write off onion soup. Just give me the expense reports.”

This certainly was an interesting world.

Next: Another “Close But No Cigar.”

I Dodge A Big Bullet

3 Comments

Posted on September 23, 2013

All of the Chevy Account Men settled in to help keep Chevrolet #1. The Chevette was setting sales records, Chevy trucks were outselling the anti-Christ Ford trucks. Peace and love and harmony swept over all of us. Until late in 1975. A Chevrolet Merchandising account supervisor lost his mind and quit to move to LA and work at some place called Needham Harper & Sears (sic) on the Honda account. It was actually Steers, but nobody in Detroit knew that. Then, several key creatives bolted to LA to work at Clinton E. Frank on Toyota. They were dead to us. What a waste of a career…to leave the bosom of Campbell-Ewald to go try and sell cars that were ruining America. The agency decided that they needed to stop the hemorrhaging of talent. One day we learned that a bright young Account Man on Chevy Truck was leaving to go to BBD&O and be the #2 guy on the Dodge account. We were all very happy for him because we knew that he was getting a boatload of money, a huge title, AND a free car to move over to Dodge. His office was immediately emptied…when you go to a competitor, you have to leave right away lest the client think you are going to steal state secrets. Possible replacements for him were being interviewed. Several days later, in a moment of way too much candor while we were on our way to the airport, the Chevy Truck Management Supervisor gave me what he thought was wonderful news. “Tom, the negotiations lasted past midnight last night, but we’ve talked him into staying with Campbell-Ewald.” Hmmm. This young Account Man was giving up a boatload of money, huge responsibilities, AND a free car to stay in his old job? The memo came out the next day. It announced his promotion to VP-Account Supervisor on Chevy Truck. The current VP-AS was being “reassigned.” The Account Men who had been leap-frogged were more than a little upset. What was going on? We found out about two weeks later. In a phenomenal case of bad timing, Advertising Age ran an article titled, “When Tom Adams Retires, He’ll Be Replaced By Tom Adams.” The article explained that the agency loved smooth executive transitions. The new Campbell-Ewald HR Director was quoted, “We have what we like to think of as the ‘Crown Prince’ program working here. We’ve already identified the young man who will replace our chairman, Tom Adams, when he retires. We almost lost him to another agency recently, but we made sure he stayed with us.” Great!!! Every non-royal Account Man dusted off his resume…at home, since none of us knew how to type. After the article ran, executive recruiters witnessed Account Men running like grunion. I was somewhat tentative. We’d only been in our house for a little over a year. We knew that housing in LA was very expensive. I engaged my passive sonar, I didn’t want management to hear me actively pinging. In the Spring of 1976, I received a call from a gentleman from Parker Advertising in Palos Verdes, California. He was the Senior VP-Management Supervisor on the Datsun account. “Tom, your name was given to me by a friend. I understand that you used to work on the Chevy California Marketing Project, and that you now handle Small Cars nationally for Chevy.” The mating dance had begun. I did the pro-forma “I’m not looking to move, but wouldn’t mind talking” lie. He was in Detroit interviewing people. “How about we get together for breakfast tomorrow?” he asked. He was staying in Birmingham, so I mentioned an Elias Brothers Big Boy that was roughly halfway between us. Known as Bob’s Big Boy in the West, the three Elias Brothers knew a good thing when they saw it and became the first official franchisee in 1952. Breakfast went very well. I told him about the media friends I had made in LA, about how I knew that housing was expensive, and about where I thought the small car segment was going. We adjourned with him saying, “We’ll be in touch.” Chevette sales continued to grow as more and more people were being driven happy. The creative department had been using a photographer named Reid Miles to shoot a lot of the Chevette magazine work. He had become famous by designing LP album covers. Perhaps his most famous was the cover done for the group Chicago. Reid shot “idealized reality.” A little like photography’s answer to Norman Rockwell. There was a home-spun feel to his work. It was very present in the work he did for Chevette. If people were going to be driven happy, we wanted the people in the ads to look as though they had been delivered to this happy place. Reid often used an ensemble group of actors who had a “hometown” look to them. The Chevette print work exuded happy people. The decision was made to carry over the “Reid Miles” look into the TV commercials. We came up with a really big idea. What if everyone drove a Chevy Chevette? Everyone would be happy! There would be Chevette police cars, fire engines, convertibles, delivery vehicles, and ambulances. We chose the small town of San Dimas, CA., to be the location for our dystopian view of America. Located about 25 miles east of LA, the town had a “small town America” look to it. The city would gain more fame a few years later as the location for Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Four days before I was set to leave for the shoot, two things happened. BBD&O came back to the “Crown Prince” and threw even more money at him. He accepted and was barely able to safely exit the GM Building as shotgun blasts tore the molding off of the elevator doors as he stepped inside. The second thing was a call from Parker Advertising. They liked me and wanted to fly me out to “meet the team.” I told them that if they could wait four days, I could save them the airfare as I was coming out anyway. Because I had learned that Account Men were not supposed to touch or say anything, I knew I could slip away from the set for a few hours. Telling everyone that I was going to visit some old friends, I sped to my clandestine rendezvous for lunch. The meeting went better than I could hope. As lunch was winding down, I excused myself to go to the restroom. When I returned to the table, a phone had been placed there. Both Parker guys had big smiles. “Tom. we want you to come work on the Datsun Account at Parker. You’ll handle the cars. We have another fellow named Bill Hagelstein handling trucks and the Z car. Here’s a boatload of money and you get a FREE CAR! We have this phone here so you can call Detroit and quit on the spot. We need you out here for a big meeting in four days.” I accepted, but told them that, since I’d been with Campbell-Ewald for almost six years, the decent thing to do would be to resign in person. I would still be able to make the meeting as I would most likely be hurled out of a window when they found out I would be working on Datsun. They agreed, and asked if I had time to go to the office and meet everyone. The offices were gorgeous. I met “the team.” We then went down to meet John Parker, the agency founder. His office was dark. the Management Supervisor asked where he was. “Oh, he got called over to Datsun for a meeting. he should be back soon.” Instead of waiting, they asked me to come back first thing the next morning to fill out my medical paperwork and order my free car!! That evening, at the hotel, I called my wife, my parents, my close friends in Detroit and in LA, to give them the good news. My wife was going to call the realtor and get the “For Sale” sign up ASAP. I got a call from the woman who did the Datsun budgets at Parker. She was also a real estate agent and offered to set up some home visits the next day. She told me how happy everyone was that I had decided to join Parker. Wonderful!! I pulled into the Parker parking lot the next morning and ran into the Account Supervisor on my way into the building. I didn’t notice the puzzled look on his face. As we got on the elevator, he said, “Uhhh, Tom, did you get a phone call last night?” I told him that I had. “Well, what do you think?” I told him that the budget manager had called and we were going to look at houses today. “Uhhhh, Tom, we lost the Datsun account yesterday afternoon. That’s where John Parker was…getting fired. In fact, there’s no job, we’ve all been fired.” Well, golly! I’m sure glad I didn’t quit over the phone yesterday. I had dodged a huge bullet. With trembling hands and a convulsing stomach, I drove back out to San Dimas just in time for the big finale. It was a huge parade scene that was going to be done in one shot. Marching bands, all of the customized Chevettes, beauty queens, local officials, and Cub Scouts would, on cue, turn the corner and march down the street toward the camera. We had talked San Dimas High School into letting the students off for the afternoon to cheer the parade. They each received $1 to give us the rights to their likeness. Reid was at the top of a huge cherry picker with the cameraman. He barked directions through a powerful megaphone that could be heard throughout the downtown area. “Action!” The marching band started playing the jingle as they came into view. There was the Chevette fire truck with a terrified Dalmatian on the roof. Sirens blaring, lights flashing, beauty queens waving, city officials in their Chevette limos giving the “thumbs up to the crowd. A Norman Rockwell painting come to life. The parade passed underneath the camera and began to move away, when Reid shrieked, “Cut!!” One of the students had taped his dollar to his forehead and was in the shot. The take was ruined. With the megaphone at full throttle he started,”You %$#&*% idiot kid. I’m coming down there to #$^% you in your @$#. As a matter of fact, this whole &*^$$ town can go and ^#$%& itself. What did you all do, marry your cousins? This is total &%$#@*!!!” I knew that, as an Account Man, I wasn’t supposed to touch anything on a shoot. I did notice the San Dimas police running down the street toward us. I nodded at the agency producer. He would go up on the cherry picker and subdue Reid.

Good Lord, I love this business.

Next: Onion Soup

Adventures In Creativity

3 Comments

Posted on September 21, 2013

Poor Chevy Nova! From its humble beginnings as the Chevy II, the Nova found itself being turned into a coat of many colors. In 1970, it was compared to O.J. Simpson. Future events would make this comparison eerily prescient and scary. By 1976, the marketplace had GM positioning the Nova as a “full-size” small car. Succumbing to a tidal wave of corporate hubris, the decision was made to make a commercial comparing the Nova to Mercedes Benz. The Nova had a larger wheelbase than the MB 230!!!!! Why would anyone want to pay all of that money for a Mercedes when they could buy a Chevy Nova with a larger wheelbase (one inch) for thousands less? No more comparing ourselves to Japanese cars, we were going after the Germans! And what better way to demonstrate the Nova superiority than to film it speeding along the German autobahn and cruising the mountains of Bavaria. We were going to Germany! Well, at least the agency producer and art director were. My job was going to be trying to clean up the nightmare that this commercial was going to become.

Chevy’s Small Car Advertising Manager, and my client, was Tom Boyle. He had done time on the agency side and knew what went on behind the green curtain. From the get-go, he had opposed doing this spot, but had been out-voted by the big-brains at corporate. One of Tom’s first questions to me was, “Are we going to have to go to the expense of shipping a Nova over to Germany for this thing?” I assured him that I had been told we would be able to find the appropriate vehicle in Germany. Wrong! I had to go back to Tom and tell him that we were going to have to ship THREE vehicles to Germany. Rather than beat me to death with his Chevy coffee mug, he just shook his head and chuckled, “Here we go!” Of course, rather than shipping the cars via ocean freighter, the vehicles had to be air shipped to stay on the shoot schedule. Of course, the production company hadn’t gotten the appropriate customs certificates so the vehicles were impounded at the Munich airport. Of course, this meant that the crew had to sit on their heels for almost a week while we frantically tried to get the vehicles released. Of course, I had to tell Tom all of this good news. Each time I visited him, I held a revised budget in my sweaty, trembling hands. After signing the fourth budget revision, Tom said, “Look, this thing can’t be saved. At least, let’s enjoy the craziness. You told me about a sushi bar that’s just opened out near the GM Tech Center. Every time you have a budget revision for me to sign, let’s go there for lunch.” We ate a lot of sushi in the next few weeks. Finally, the commercial was done. Tom and I watched the rough cut. After it was over, we looked at each other. Except for the announcer and the oom-pah-pah music, the footage looked like a curvy stretch of I-96 between Lansing and Muskegon, MI. The commercial was now done and scheduled to go on the air in three weeks. What else could go wrong? A few days later, I was sitting at home watching Charlie’s Angels when I saw a new Ford Granada (a Nova competitor) commercial My blood ran cold! My home phone began ringing. I already knew who it was. I answered the phone. “Hi, Tom. Yeah I saw it. Yeah, they shot a commercial in Bavaria too. Yeah, they compared themselves to Mercedes. Yeah, you could see King Ludwig’s castle in the background so you knew that they were actually there. Yeah, they even had some guy speaking German in it. Hey, you up for sushi tomorrow?”

Let’s just say that our “Germany” spot had a limited run. Who knew? There were still market segments to be exploited. I suggested that they not go Hispanic with the Nova. There was that “name” thing. For those of you who don’t know yet, Chevy Nova in Spanish can mean “Chevy Won’t” or “Chevy Doesn’t Go.” When I was still the LA guy, we talked Chevy into producing a Chevy Monza spot for the Hispanic market. It was a spot full of aspirational, familial, lifestyle stuff. Chevy’s Ad Director at the time said he “didn’t get it.” “Where’s the mention of rack and pinion steering and the wheel opening molding plastic chrome accents?” So much for Hispanic Marketing. What about marketing to women? Those Germaine Greer and Gloria Steinem chicks had women all riled up. Maybe they would get more of a say into the car buying decision than just choosing the color. It was worth a try. We could make the Nova anything for anybody. We’d make an ad that “appealed to women!” We came up with a layout that everyone agreed was spot on. It would be an interior shot of the Nova with a woman behind the steering wheel, dressed in Chanel and a big hat that looked like an orange juicer, who was looking across the front seat at the reader. Long white gloves were draped next to her on the front seat. The headline read, “Elegance, Style, Nova.” The late, great David E. Davis, former Creative Director at Campbell-Ewald, would call these “Modess Because” ads. If you’re old enough, you’ll get it. If you’re not, I’m not going to explain it here except to say their ads featured a woman standing next to a piano, open window, fountain, horse, grand staircase, or museum art piece. She would always be dressed elegantly, and the headline would simply say “Modess…Because.” We ran the ad in our magazine buy of “women’s magazines.” The mother of four kids who is about to lose it, definitely forced her husband to buy a Nova after she saw our ad in Family Circle. I’m sure the ad was very successful.

A few weeks later, we decide that we needed to give Monza sales a push. Time for some new magazine ads. The request for creative to develop ad concepts was ironically called a CPR…a Creative Planning Request. They came up with eight layouts. We, along with the client, had to choose two. The Chevy Ad Department showed up en masse. Various Campbell Ewald Creative Poo-bahs were there along with three account people…the Car Management Supervisor, the Car Account Supervisor, and the guy to blame (me), if the meeting was a fiasco. After about an hour of hemming and hawing, mumbling, opinion reversals, and heavy breathing, we had chosen only one of the layouts to go forward. Now came the part of a creative presentation where everyone felt compelled to start picking the fly poop out of the pepper. They were now parsing punctuation! The visual of one of the ads appealed to me. It was a photograph of a driver smiling as he ran the Monza up a winding mountain road. The headline read: Chevy Monza…It Puts The Fun Back In Driving. Borrrrring! I foolishly thought that since I was in the meeting, I should open my mouth and give an opinion. The Chevy clients were getting upset at not being able to find a second ad to approve. That’s when I opened my mouth. “Hey guys,” I said, “driving a Monza is more than just having fun, it’s about the pure excitement of going fast on twisty roads. Instead of saying that it puts the fun back in driving, why don’t we say it puts the “driving” back in driving?” Chevy Monza…It Puts The Driving Back In Driving! The clients loved it! The meeting was a wonderful success. Lots of back slapping and gemülichkeit as they left the room. I was feeling pretty darn good about myself, when I felt a hand grab my shoulder and turn me around. It was one of the Associate Creative Directors. “Never, ever, open your mouth and shout out a creative idea at a meeting. You make us look bad. Tell us the idea later.” Mysteriously, the ad never ran. Note to self: Your job on a shoot is to sit next to the Craft Services table, and in a creative meeting your job is to keep your mouth shut.

Next: I Dodge A Big Bullet

I Am Driven Happy

2 Comments

Posted on September 17, 2013

After surviving MPG-gate, life rolled on as I toiled in the Sales Promotion and Merchandising vineyards. The Chevrolet Merchandising and Sales Promotion Department was a Byzantine organization of small fiefdoms. My client for the Chevy Small Car Guide was a high-energy young fellow who would soon leave Chevrolet and become a successful car dealer. Others, like Mason Bell, handled projects for years because there was nobody at GM who could do it better. Chevrolet sponsored the Soap Box Derby from 1934 to 1972, Mason was in charge for most of those years. He was also my client for Chevy’s sponsorship of the AAU’s Junior Olympics. Then there were those who supervised a dog’s breakfast of projects. One of these clients decided to make the best of this situation. The Normandie was a great bar and restaurant across 2nd Ave. from the GM building. My client would call one of the Campbell-Ewald account men up around 11:30 and tell him that he was going to buy lunch “for the client” at the Normandie at noon. I learned not to answer my phone between 11:30 and noon. He usually held court in a corner booth with his girlfriend, who lived a few blocks away, near another GM watering hole called Bonaparte’s. One day, the Director of Merchandising and Sales Promotion had seen enough. It was now 2:00 and he knew that his employee was probably having a high time at the Normandie. “I’m going over there to fire him right now,” he said as he left for the Normandie. That’s when my client’s Early Warning System went into effect. As soon as the Director had left the area, a secretary speed-dialed the Normandie to a phone behind the bar. “Code Red, Code Red!” the bartender yelled across the room to my client. My client bolted up, kissed his mistress, and ran to the back of the restaurant, where a small door exited onto 2nd Ave. He could look up to the second floor of the GM Bldg. and see his office window and his secretary looking down on the street. As soon as she saw the Director charge through the front door, she gave him the signal to bolt across the street and into the 2nd Ave. entrance to the GM Bldg. The Director stopped in the middle of the restaurant and scanned the room. “Where is he?” he demanded. “Nobody’s seen him since last week,” the bartender said…not realizing that the Director had not mentioned a specific name. The Director ran back to his office, and found my client at his desk, talking on the phone with a Chevy dealer. This round went to my client.

Not all of the rounds went to him, however. I can deal with a great amount of crude behavior, but when it impacts my career, it’s time to act. This client lived with his wife and family in Farmington, MI. I don’t know if the wife knew about the “friend” he saw every day at work. On several occasions, when we were going out of town together, the client would ask me to drive him to the airport. I would drive from Royal Oak, out to Farmington, and back down to Detroit Metro. The trip would be repeated when we returned to Detroit. I thought this was client service. Due to my naiveté, I didn’t know that he was turning in his own expenses for mileage and airport parking to Chevy. We went to Florida to show some layouts to a sports marketing partner. The client had approved the layouts. The sports marketing partner went nuts when he saw them, saying, “This isn’t what we wanted! Where are the finished posters?” My client, climbing behind the wheel of the bus that was about to run me over, said, “Tom, I told you that this stuff wasn’t right.” I went back to Detroit alone to “fix” things. My client stayed behind to play a few more days of golf. That evening a call from one of the other Account Men. I was being taken off of the project, and he was being put on it. This client’s Waterloo came when he forced me to buy him lunch, then forced another Account Man to buy dinner for him. When both of our expense accounts hit management desks for approval, a flag went up. We were called into a meeting with my boss’s boss, and the Director of Merchandising and Sales Promotion. Apparently, Chevy had been building a case against this guy for a while. Still smarting from the bus tire tracks on my back, I turned state’s evidence. My client was transferred to Chevy’s Vladivostok Zone.

In spite of my turbulent times in Merchandising, management felt that my California time had deluded me enough to think that big cars weren’t coming back, and promoted me to National Small Car Advertising Account Executive. “Small Cars” included any vehicle with a 100″ wheelbase or less. This included the Vega, Chevette, Monza, and, surprisingly, the Corvette which had a wheelbase of 98″. Perhaps because they felt pity for me, I was also assigned the Camaro (108″) and the Nova (111″). The Big Car account executive handled Chevelle (Malibu and Laguna), Chevy Caprice, and Chevy Impala. Chevy trucks were handled by the strange guys down the hall.

Campbell-Ewald’s slogan at the time was “Advertising Well-Directed.” The logo featured a writing quill hitting the bull’s-eye of a target. Pretty succinct. Shortly after I assumed my new duties, I was given the chance to to do some well-directed advertising. I was being sent to New York City to supervise a Chevy Chevette commercial. I had no idea what an AE was supposed to do at a shoot, other than to look after the client’s interests. The Chevette’s new theme was “Chevy Chevette. It Will Drive You Happy.” Building on the popularity of David Naughton’s performance in the classic “I’m A Pepper Wouldn’t You Like To Be A Pepper Too?” Dr. Pepper spot, we developed a commercial for Naughton with him singing the Chevy Chevette theme (complete with singers and dancers) as he skipped around a Chevette while a giant matrix lightbox behind him flashed pictures of standard features. It was going to be done in one complete take. I arrived in NYC the day before the shoot and met with the agency creative people attending the shoot. The call was for 6 AM the next morning. The creative folk told me that I didn’t have to be there until 9 AM. The next morning, dressed in my best suit and carrying my new briefcase, I hailed a cab in front of the hotel. I read him the address of the sound stage. It was on 125th St. and 2nd Ave. “Nope,” the cabbie said. I ain’t going there.” This was my first trip to NYC,and unaccustomed to local folkways and mores, I got out and hailed another cab. This time the cabbie said, “Why do you want to go to Harlem?” I told him what I was doing. He said, “Whatevvuh, but I don’t think there’s any movie studios up there.” He dropped me at the corner and sped away. I found the address over a very heavy iron door. I knocked and was let in. Singers and dancers were practicing, David Naughton was going over the staging with our art director. A lot of people were just standing around, drinking coffee and and eating doughnuts. After an hour, the decision was made to start shooting. Surely they didn’t send me out here to do nothing. I wanted to make some type of contribution. The director shouted, “Action!” David and the chorus came out singing and dancing. The giant matrix was flashing. David approached the car. The camera began to back up. I realized that the camera was going to back up over a wayward cable on the floor. It would ruin the whole take!! I finally could be of some worth. I picked up the cable and moved it about three feet out of the way. The director got the take and said, “Cut!” I had been able to do something for the commercial and was feeling quite proud…until a very large hand grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. “Who are you and what the hell are you doing?” the hand asked. “Sir, I’m Tom Cavanagh, Campbell-Ewald’s National Account Executive and I’m here to represent Chevrolet’s interests.” The hand said, “Big whoop!” and walked over to our agency producer. After a brief conversation, he came back with a director’s chair. “Mr. Cavanagh, this chair is just for you. Why don’t you sit here, and if you see something that needs to be done, you tell me or Sal over there.” Then it hit me. Unions!!!!! I had broken a cardinal rule by doing something that someone else was getting paid to do…even though they hadn’t done it. I learned that on a shoot, the AE’s place was next to the Craft Services table.