Unwinding

A few weeks ago, my showbiz son who has a high-salaried, high-powered creative position working for one of the major studios—not saying which one, but I do love their TVs and videocams—moved out to be closer to his place of employment. He was going to make the jump a year ago, but you know, covid. So he worked from here, stashed his money, and now that it looks like the lot will be opening up soon he’s shortened his commute time considerably.

That’s not what this post is about. Stick with me.

In the wake of his relocation, I was finally able to access one of the closets in his bedroom without stepping on any land mines of Star Wars toys, keyboards, books, scripts, musical instruments, clothes and an assortment of other items placed there with the sole purpose of making me go ass over teakettle in the space of ten feet.

Rummaging through the closet, in a box buried and forgotten about 20 years ago, were a bunch of reel-to-reel and cassette tapes of radio spots I’d done very early on in my career (pausing to laugh hysterically for using the word “career”).

I vaguely remembered a few of the titles, but because I don’t own a reel-to-reel or a cassette player I had no way to listen to the solid gold copywriting craftsmanship that was no doubt waiting on them.

Leave it to the interwebs. I went to the Google and found a company called King Tet Productions just slightly south of me in the lovely seaside town of San Diego. I shipped the box down to him, and three days later got back a CD with all the spots restored for my crystal clear, quality listening pleasure.

I raced out to my car, put it in the CD player and listened to them all.

And you know what? They were garbage.

Time is a cruel tease, because in my mind, at the time I wrote them, I thought they were great. After hearing them, I remembered a few of the recording sessions with some of my favorite voice talent. The sessions were great. The writing was awful.

Bad puns, hokey ideas, crummy needledrop music and cliched lines. I have no excuses other than I was just starting out (actually the other excuse I have is "The dog ate my homework" but I didn't think it would apply here). But here’s the thing. They all got sold, produced and aired. Insert something here about clients getting the advertising they deserve. Or maybe it’s just that in the last 20 years my taste has improved, I’ve honed my skills as a writer and marketer, worked on perfecting my craft and have just become better over time.

Nah, I’m just funnin’ ya. That’s not it.

I remember one of them was the first radio spot I ever did. It was for Frings at Jack In The Box, a new product that was a combination of french fries and onion rings in the same bag. The same bag!

Anyway, I recorded it at Wally Heider Studios (bet at least two of my readers haven't heard that name in awhile), in the big room. Jack Angel was doing a Bogart impression, and I had an end line about how the Frings taste better and better "...as time goes by."

I know. It hurts just to read it.

But it was the first radio spot I'd written, and I remember being so excited when I was shopping in a retail store and heard it come on over the speaker. I wanted to tell everyone I'd written it. Not so much anymore.

I guess the lesson here is we all have to start somewhere, and not to worry too much. Because the more you write the better you get, you know....

Nope. Not gonna make the same mistake twice.

You never forget your first

I think it's pretty clear that, judging from the very first ad I ever wrote which you see here, I was destined to become a world-class, award-winning, creative-championing, sushi-loving, lunch-taking copywriter. Destiny was calling. Or maybe it was laughing. Sometimes it's hard to tell.

I've covered my illustrious career path before here, so there's no reason to repeat myself. Other than I get to talk about myself again, and being an only child I think you know how happy that makes me.

But I'll spare you. If you don't know the world revolves around me by now, remind me to remind you again tomorrow.

I remember being so excited when this ad actually appeared in Reader's Digest I told everyone I knew about it. My friends, my parents, my girlfriend. It was a much bigger deal at the time. I'd be in supermarket checkout lines, and casually pick up a copy and flip to the ad, talking loudly about how I'd written it.

This tactic always seemed to work better when I wasn't shopping by myself.

Of course, as you can plainly see, despite my illusions of grandeur and for almost every reason, it sucked. Plus the junior art director I worked on it with was a notorious asshole known all over town. He eventually went on to own his own successful asshole agency, until he was thrown out when it was acquired by another agency that didn't want assholes. He was an extremely unpleasant part of my first copywriting experience. It wouldn't be the only unpleasant experience I'd have with this asshole, but that's for another post (guess what the title will be).

Anyway, since the subject of the ad was how the "bite-sized pillows" were designed, his breakthrough idea was to make it look like a schematic and put it on graph paper. I was new to this ad writing thing, but even then I still knew how to roll my eyes.

I shouldn't be too critical - after all, this is the ad that launched me into a career path I never expected, and one that's been very rewarding both personally and professionally. In hindsight, I now realize it taught me a couple of extremely valuable life lessons that I think apply not just to advertising, but to virtually every industry. To this very day, I carry these learned philosophies with me to every job I do.

First, whether it's an insurance policy, a work of literature or an ad, if you're going to put a product out in the world make it as creative, entertaining, informative, thought-provoking and relevant as possible.

And second, don't work with assholes if you can avoid it.

A cautionary tail

I worked with this art director once. He'd been a friend for years, but was also the most ambitious person I'd ever known. At the expense of anyone and anything - including his friends - he put his ambition above everything else.

And while usually anything starting with "naked" is something you want to see, when the next word is ambition it isn't very pretty. It doesn't always work in your favor.

For example, not too long ago I was in an interesting position. For several reasons, a leadership vacuum had been created where I was working. In spite of it, the team pulled together to make sure everything got done and nothing fell between the cracks. Everyone on the team was freelance, including the last person in who was a junior art director of debatable talent.

The debate wasn't how much, it was if he had any at all.

But even though he was a junior, he had big plans. He taught us all that apparently there is an "I" in team, because one Friday he scurried in to the head of marketing's office, and without telling the rest of the team who'd been there considerably longer, and worked considerably harder, presented a plan for a huge project that the team was supposed to meet about and work on together. He said he wanted to be the point person on it, and in what can only be described as a complete lack of judgment, if not consciousness, the head of marketing said okay.

I suppose there are two ways to look at the situation. One is you could admire the fact this junior art director saw an opportunity to advance and took it, consequences be damned.

The other way - the way I see it - is that this under-qualified, universally disliked and obnoxious little twerp basically betrayed everyone he worked with for his personal gain, without having thought through the fact no one else on the team would lift a finger to execute whatever alleged vision he had for the project.

When the team refused to work with him, it reminded me of that scene in The Right Stuff. He wanted to do it by himself. We were happy to oblige.

Shortly thereafter, the rest of us also went into the head of marketing's office and gave our point of view on the art director, his vision, and his lack of ability and talent to execute it - and made sure he was clear on the fact that the art director would not be receiving any help from us.

Interestingly enough, the following day was this art director's last. And the team carried out the project - with our original idea of how it should work as well as a brutal deadline - without a hitch.

I'll be the very first to admit I've always had a healthy disdain for the phrase "team player."

Imagine my surprise to find out I've been one the whole time.