Adland_ Searching for the Meaning of Life on a Branded Planet - James P. Othmer [75]
But despite his being more than a thousand miles from the hucksters of Madison Avenue, there was nothing simple or hokey about the way in which Leo Burnett went about his business. Famous for his campaigns and his work ethic and for making agencies more socially responsible, he was also one of the first to have his agency use motivational research in the making of ads. Prior to the 1930s, most agencies limited their research to statistical analysis. For instance, Arthur Nielsen employed statistical science to measure advertising effectiveness in magazines starting in the 1920s, and the father of professional polling, George Gallup, left his job at Northwestern University in 1932 and for sixteen years headed up the research division at Young & Rubicam Advertising on Madison Avenue. Although he was often skeptical of an overdependence on research, Burnett was at the forefront of a group of admen who took research beyond the realm of statistics and into the subconscious. Through many quotations attributed to him, including some of his speeches (of particular note is his retirement speech, “When to Take My Name off the Door,” viewable online), Burnett can come across as an incredibly dedicated, motivating, and righteous leader. There’s nothing unscrupulous in nuggets like:
“Steep yourself in your subject, work like hell, and love, honor and obey your hunches.”
Or, “Anyone who thinks that people can be fooled or pushed around has an inaccurate and pretty low estimation of people—and won’t do very well in advertising.”
And, “Regardless of the moral issue, dishonesty in advertising has proved very unprofitable.”
Sound bites like these get you into the Advertising Hall of Fame and your signature etched on the walls outside the worldwide headquarters. Yet what’s subject to debate with Burnett, indeed with anyone who has ever worked in advertising, and, I imagine, with us all, is what exactly constitutes “dishonesty.” Consider some of these other notable Leo-isms:
“Good advertising doesn’t just circulate information. It penetrates the public mind with desires and beliefs.”
Or, via the “thought force of symbols, we absorb [ads] through our pores, without knowing we do so. By osmosis.”
And later, “Television is the strongest drug we’ve ever had to dish out.”
Perhaps Burnett thought that if something was true, it couldn’t be dishonest. Sneaky and irresponsible, yes. And in some instances (the legendary success of the Marlboro Man campaign) potentially fatal, but not dishonest. So was it wrong to, as Burnett did, purposely incorporate symbols into ads that would register subliminally? Is there an ethical difference between “stimulating basic desires and beliefs” and exploiting fears and playing off the weaknesses and anxieties of the public?
Still in the Shadow of the Jolly Green Giant, but Not Yet in the Door, and Further Proof That Advertising Is a $670-Billion-a-Year Enigma
Because I was more than an hour early for my first meeting at Leo Burnett, I called a Chicago-based writer whom I’d “met” in an online literary salon/book group. I know this sounds like a good way to get murdered, meeting a virtual stranger in a far-off city, but we’d been corresponding for almost a year, and he worked just around the corner from Leo’s offices at 35 West Wacker.
After some book talk, my friend asked me about advertising, and my progress with this book. I kept it short. After all, he was a literary man—indeed online he was scholarly, well-read, funny, and erudite—and he was probably just being polite. Presently, he pointed out the window of the coffee shop. “I guess you heard what happened here just the other day,” he said.
I shook my head.
He told me: a guy at DDB Chicago, a big creative