State of the reunion

For as much of a social butterfly I like to think I am - and don't get me wrong, I can light up a room - I've somehow managed never to go to any of the reunions at the many agencies I've worked at. Sometimes it was intentional, other times circumstantial. The circumstances were I didn't want to go.

Anyway, a couple Saturdays ago, at the last minute, I noticed an invitation had been sent to me. So for once, I decided to get over myself and make the effort. I'm pleased to report it was well worth it.

For a little over two years, I worked at an agency called DBC in downtown L.A. It was during the time the city was blasting the subway tunnels under 7th Street, and they'd ripped up the asphalt and replaced it with wood planks during construction. One of the owners, Brad Ball, had a great line about it. He said, "L.A. is such a classy city it has hardwood streets." Still cracks me up.

Anyway, I know a few get togethers have happened in the many years since I was there, even one at a park extremely close to my house. But despite my polite refusals in the past, this time I decided to take the dive.

I'm glad I did.

I'd spent so long focusing on a few people there I didn't like - really didn't like - that I neglected to devote any brain space to the ones I actually liked and enjoyed, but had forgotten how much. I was happy to see all the faces there, and genuinely missed many of the ones who weren't able to make it.

As conversation usually goes at these things, we caught up on our current lives, as well as past ones. That's the beauty of reunions: they're moments out of time. Suddenly, you're with a roomful of people who can fill in the blanks about who you were, and what you did way back when (not always a good thing, but always amusing).

So, this is my personal thank you to all my friends who were there and made me feel so damn welcome.

And even though I can already feel my loner, anti-social, too-cool-for-reunion ways creeping back in, before they take over completely let me say I can't wait for the next time we all get together.

For starters, with any luck, I'll be a lot thinner.

Where credit's due

Success has many fathers, but failure is an orphan. Nowhere is that truer than in advertising.

When a campaign or an individual spot happens to hit big - locally, regionally and especially nationally - it seems everyone who was in the building, in one meeting, used to work on the business or walked by the conference room while it was being presented is ready to jump on the credit bandwagon.

The industry is lousy with examples of it: VW. Joe Isuzu. Apple. Nike. FedEx. Nissan. The list goes on and on. And on.

In the late 80's, there was a McDonald's campaign called Mac Tonight. It sprang from a local promotion by an operator's group for dinner at McDonald's. It was created by my friend and former art director partner Jim Benedict before we worked together.

Under the agency leadership of Brad Ball and Mark Davis, Jim was given the freedom and support to create a genuinely unique, fun and memorable spot for a client who wasn't particularly known for taking risks. With Jim's vision of a quarter moon leading man, and parody lyrics to Bobby Darin's "Mac The Knife", the spot took off in a way no one saw coming.

Wildly popular, McDonald's picked up the promotion nationally and suddenly it was everywhere.

What happened next was sadly familiar.

The executive creative director at the time (who has since long gone) started giving national press interviews about how he came up with the concept - some bullshit about how he was looking at the moon one night and it just came to him. Jim started getting assigned to other, less visible accounts. And his name was mysteriously absent from both the interviews and award show entries (and the spot won many awards).

To no one's surprise, McDonald's wanted to pool out the character and did in other, lesser spots created by the people who claimed they'd done the original.

To their own credit, the agency leadership was always honorable about rightfully giving the credit to Jim.

But, creatively speaking, low people in high places are a devious mix. If you've worked for one - and eventually we all do - I'm sure you have war stories of your own to tell.

Jim eventually became a creative director at McCann, where he continued to take on the challenge of doing outstandingly creative work for clients that had reputations for being resistant to it (I'm looking at you Nestlé). He died in 1994.

The agency, even in its current incarnation, still displays the spot on its website. And it should. It continues to be a great success story.

For them, and for Jim.