From Those Wonderful Folks Who Gave You Pearl Harbor - Jerry Della Femina [98]
Not long ago we made a pitch and we were competing with Doyle, Dane and Wells, Rich, and Jack Tinker. Three very strong agencies. I didn’t figure we would get the business but I thought it was nice to be in such company. Suddenly it’s reported in the papers that none of the four agencies got the account – it went to a very, very bad agency. One of those places where they strive for mediocrity and miss. Now this bad agency did not present – they were nowhere. They certainly couldn’t get the account on the basis of their past work. Somewhere along the line, somebody made a hit, somebody scored. I figure they got the account through their bank. This bad agency found out who the client’s bank was and worked a deal. It’s so sad, because this client really needed a good agency to bail them out of their problems. Doyle, Dane would have been terrific for them, or Wells, Rich, or even us, but the outfit they gave the account to will run them into the ground. The sales will continue to drop and they will wonder why they can’t move their product out.
Sometimes agency presidents are pretty casual guys themselves – forget about the writers and art directors. Charlie Goldschmidt is that kind of president – not uptight at all. Charlie has a thing about fire engines, or maybe it’s fires. He would chase fire engines down the block. We might be having a presentation and Charlie would be sitting there quietly when, whammo, he’d hear a siren outside. He would jump up, run out the door, and you wouldn’t see him for an hour or so. Some days I would be sitting with him alone and if he heard an engine he’d open the window. If it looked like the fire was close enough, he’d go out and see it. He was a big man for fires. One day in the middle of a very important meeting, Danny Karsch and a few other people were discussing things with a prospective client when he heard fire engines. The door to the office slams open, Charlie comes busting through. He walked right through the offices not saying a word to anyone, opened the window to check how close the fire was, shut the window, walked out, and shut the door. Not one single word during all this. Everybody is looking at one another, and finally Danny said, ‘I think that people who like fires really don’t like people.’
Packaged presentations are put together like Broadway shows. There are word cues and the whole thing. In our presentation, I might be talking and I’ll say, ‘And on the subject of marketing …’ and Tully Plesser of the Cambridge Marketing group, who occasionally does a research study for us, will say, ‘On the subject of marketing, I would say that we can offer you the following …’ At the end of the marketing piece Tully might say, ‘And of course marketing is only as good as media.’ Then we punch the media director who wakes up and says, ‘Life magazine, four-color, full page.’ Some agencies have this thing down to such a science that they don’t even need word cues; they look at one another.
Not long ago we pitched to a very big food company in Dallas. There was a lot of money at stake and we were very nervous – when you’re talking about millions of dollars you can’t help but be nervous. We left New York on a Thursday for a Friday-morning pitch. We rent a car at the Dallas airport and drive into town and check into the hotel. We know we’re in a foreign country when a local takes a look at Ron, who happens to be dressed very quietly, and says, ‘Hey, boy, why don’t you get a haircut?’ Ron is very tense and says, ‘Up yours, Reb.’ We have dinner that night at the local top restaurant, where the big dish is fried steak with enchiladas on the side.
The next morning, grits. Ron, who sweats a lot, is really doing a job. We pile into the rented car and start looking for the main office. The company we’re pitching to is enormous but we couldn’t find it. You stop the car at a corner and ask somebody where the main headquarters