Raised by MadMen

This one’s going to be short and sweet. And it isn’t going to be so much a blogpost as a love letter.

The best way I can describe it is this: I had a moment out of time today. After not having seen or really talked to them in too many years, I found myself sitting at lunch with two of the most influential men in my career and my life.

One of them—an advertising Hall of Fame legend—saw something in me I didn’t see in myself, and gave me an unexpected and life-changing opportunity when he made me the first junior copywriter ever at Wells Rich Greene/West.

The other—a highly accomplished and award-winning creative director, and now internationally acclaimed photographer and artist—showed me how to navigate the new responsibilities that came with the title. The essentials, like how to treat, respect and direct talent. The steps involved in producing a television spot.

Both of them lavished encouragement on me, allowed me to let my imagination and humor run wild, reigned me in when needed, made a real writer out of me and always had my back. Together, they taught me the importance of being a decent, inclusive, caring man in a business with no shortage of the opposite kind.

I was sitting at lunch today with two men who are forever a part of my fabric and I love dearly: Howie Cohen and Alan Kupchick.

My wife, who worked with Alan at the agency where we met, and later for Howie at his agency, was also there. Together the four of us filled in the memory blanks on names, events and stories, of which there were just as many we got to as we didn’t.

There are very few occasions in life where the saying "time flies when you're having fun" actually applies. But as Howie put it, it was a three-hour lunch that felt like three minutes.

Yes it was. And I can’t wait for our next three minutes.

I read the whole thing

I can't believe I was there for the whole thing. Well, not the whole thing. But a lot of it.

Let me back it up a bit. It's not often I'll start a book and read it cover to cover in one sitting. But I had a feeling that was going to happen with I Can't Believe I Lived The Whole Thing by my mentor, and the man who gave me my copywriting career, Howie Cohen.

As I've written before, you can blame it on him.

There are two reasons I got through the book faster than Brett Kavanaugh driving to a liquor store near closing time. First, if I can be honest, I wanted to see if my name was in it. Spoiler alert: it's not. Apparently I haven't had the impact on Howie's life that he's had on mine.

Whatever. We move on.

The other is I couldn't put it down.

As reads go, this is a great one. The true story of an advertising legend and Hall Of Famer—did I mention he gave me my start—Howie brings the mad men days of the business in New York to life in vivid, humorous and detailed fashion.

I didn't meet Howie until he moved to L.A. and I worked with him at Wells Rich Greene. I was witness to a lot of the stories he tells in the book. And the ones I wasn't I heard the first time straight from him. Like Mary Wells bringing him and partner Bob Pasqualina into her office, and in front of clients threatening to hang them out to dry for something impolitic they said in a New York Times interview. And I still use the line, "Please excuse the leather smell." when people get in my car.

It'll make sense when you read it.

Here's the thing: I've known Howie for two thirds of my life. His influence on my path cannot be overstated. I know a lot of people have worked with him, and they all like to claim him as their own. It's understandable, I do it too. But only because I'm entitled to because I knew him first.

His book captures the craziness, creativity, relationships, frustrations and rewards of the ad biz in a way only someone who has lived it at the top can. Whether you're in the business or not, it's a great story that'll have you laughing out loud and shaking your head there was actually a time like that.

Personally, I got to relive some of the best times of my professional life (stopping to laugh for using the word professional). As I was reading, I remembered stories Howie told me I hoped would be in the book, and they are. Moments I was there for—like another legend, Mary Wells, addressing the staff after the loss of the Jack In The Box account. And there are the personal battles Howie's fought and won that I never knew about. He reveals them with a disarming rawness and honesty.

Even though my name's not in the book, there are lots of other names that I know and have worked with. And while Howie and I have differing opinions on some of them, it's fun to read his take.

Howie's always had greatness about him, and he's as true to who he is as anyone I've ever known.

You can see it on every page.

Blame him

You want to know whose fault it is that I'm in advertising? It's his.

A long time ago, in a lifetime far, far away, I saw a job post on the UCLA job board for a position in the mailroom at an ad agency in Century City. I'd never given much thought to advertising, but I did give a little thought to paying my bills and my rent. So I interviewed for the position, turned on the charm and humor we all know and love and got the gig.

Come to find out the agency was Wells, Rich, Greene. And the creative director who arrived from New York shortly after I got there was Howie Cohen.

By the time Howie got there, I'm not sure which of my jobs I was on at the agency. I'd started in the mailroom, where I got to make my rounds, and talk with everyone every day. A social butterfly even back then.

Then I got promoted to running the stat camera (look it up) in the studio. Except it wasn't in the studio. It was in a small, badly ventilated room next to the studio. Since the camera used a lot of fragrant chemicals to develop the film, I'd have to hold my breath a lot, then run out of the room after I'd taken a shot of whatever camera ready art I was working with.

From there, I was bumped up to traffic person - excuse me, project manager. If you look in the Guiness Book of World Records, you'll see that I was the worst traffic person that's ever held the job. True fact.

Anyway, my grand plan, since I was a theater arts major, was to become an agency producer. I figured if I did that, I'd make all these contacts. I could get an agent and start my illustrious film career.

But a funny thing happened on the way to my three-picture deal.

One day, there were no creative people at the agency. A team was down in Rio on a shoot for Brittania Jeans. Another team was out sick. Yet a third team was at a client meeting. This all happened to be on a day when a Bran Chex print ad had to be written and presented. The account guy, a short man who looked like he was wearing those plastic glasses with the fake nose - except they were both his - was running around the agency trying to scrounge up someone to write the ad.

He called Howie, who wasn't in that day, and asked who he should get to write the ad. And Howie said "Give it to Jeff."

So I wrote it. While it didn't win any awards, I'm pretty sure it's still the best written ad for a high-fiber cereal Reader's Digest has ever run.

Shortly after that, Howie promoted me to junior copywriter. Honestly, it was thrilling. I was excited to be working with the team, Howie and his partner Bob Pasqualina, who had created the legendary "I can't believe I ate the whole thing" Alka-Seltzer commercial.

As you might imagine, earning his bona fides working in New York advertising during that time, Howie has many, many stories that only someone who lived it can tell. And nobody tells a better story than Howie. If you want to read some good ones, definitely have a peek at his blog MadMensch.com.

I'm happy to say Howie is still working his magic in the world of advertising. I'm still working mine as well, although so far nothing I've done has made it to the Advertising Hall Of Fame. Yes, I said so far. Keep hope alive.

Anyway, I don't know if I ever actually thanked Howie and told him how grateful I am for launching me into a career I didn't even know I wanted. But if I haven't, I'm doing it now.

And by the way, for all the creative directors I may work for in the future, if you don't like something I write, now you know who to talk to.