“And print ads don’t?”
“Not really. The TV medium is, by its very nature, more flamboyant, more flashy than print. The emotion is right on the surface. It can fool with humor in a way that print can’t afford to. Pratfalls, clips of old Mac Sennett comedies, dancing cigarette packs, things like that. And when it comes to fancy production, the print medium simply can’t compete. You’re going from a single picture per page to production numbers staged maybe in Busby Berkeley style.”
Begin could not hide his excitement. He urged Harold to tell him all he knew about this monster that threatened to skyrocket the ad industry. While Harold still had much to learn, he was not the complete innocent when it came to hoarding bargaining chips.
So, in sketchiest detail, Harold told of his experience behind the camera, building sets, staging, cutting and editing film, even a bout or two in the director’s chair-albeit in extremely small productions. Nonetheless, the sum total of all this hands-on experience gave him a very distinct advantage over the garden-variety creative ad person. A conclusion with which Bob Begin concurred.
The waiter presented the check. Begin, accepting it, asked Harold if he wanted another drink-one for the road. Harold declined. Begin took note. Three martinis, par for the course. And Harold showed not one ill effect. This one might be a winner.
In short order, at the recommendation of Robert Begin, Harold was hired by the William J. Doran agency.
Harold was assigned to the bullpen. The bullpen was christened such by the copywriters who had occupied that position, paid their dues, and eventually escaped it.
It did not take Harold long to figure out that the bullpen separated the floaters from the self-motivators. Junior copywriters essentially were unassigned. The go-getters would find projects. The others would contemplate the ever-changing universe. There was no doubt that Harold intended to work-and to climb. But no one offered him a project, and he couldn’t find the rope.
So, in the beginning, Harold spent much more time looking for work than actually working. Timing his entrances carefully so it would not be apparent that he was, in effect, begging for work, he wandered from office to office, asking, “Anything I can help you with?”
That was how he got his first assignment. It was an “on pack.” One of the agency’s toothpaste accounts was offering a sample-size tube of toothpaste along with a small toothbrush. It was a travel package. All that was needed was filler body copy for the enclosed ad. Harold wrote the copy in about the time it would have taken to dash off a memo. He hadn’t invested all this preparation just to write filler copy.
But it was a learning experience.
One does not climb quickly by wandering about offering one’s services. The next most logical step was to seize the ball and run with it. He planned that step more carefully.
Weeks passed before he completed and introduced his next venture. He approached Fred Ruhman, an associate creative director in charge of the team that handled the Kingbrew account.
“Fred,” Harold began, “I had a hell of a lot of trouble getting to sleep last night. But just before I drifted off, I got this idea for a Kingbrew Beer presentation. The video possibilities knocked me cold.”
“No kidding. C’mon into my office and let’s talk about it.”
Once they were ensconced in Fred’s office, Ruhman gave a great performance as one who was politely interested in an underling’s idea, amateurish as it might be, and who would out of kindness hear the subordinate out.
Harold knew that, in reality, Ruhman was well up the creek with no paddle. The Kingbrew people expected a presentation for a major TV ad campaign in a couple of days. And Ruhman’s team hadn’t been able to get off the dime.
Ruhman listened patiently, showed little emotional response, and ended by thanking Harold and urging him to feel free to come in for a consultation anytime.
Harold did not have long to wait. Shortly after the meeting with the Kingbrew execs, word spread rapidly throughout the agency. It was a winner. Kingbrew bought the entire concept. They were thrilled with the presentation. Everything was coming up roses at the William J. Doran Agency. And it was all due to the fertile imagination of Fred Ruhman.
Fred Ruhman!
It was another learning experience.
There was no possible way Harold could claim credit for his pilfered concept! If push came to shove, it certainly would be Ruhman’s word against his. And Harold knew whose word would prevail. Although it would be a cold day in hell before Ruhman arrived at a similar campaign on his own.
Go for the jugular.
Harold plotted.
It took another several weeks-during which he wrote filler copy and found pretexts not to attend meetings, lunches, dinners, or have contact of any sort with Fred Ruhman-for him to perfect his next presentation.
This time he went above Ruhman’s level to the creative supervisor, namely, Bob Begin, who, it turned out, was more than willing to become Harold’s protector.
Begin listened to Harold’s presentation, his graphics plan, his proposal to combine live actors with animated cartoon characters, his imaginative use of International Motors vehicles. International Motors. Begin recalled their luncheon and that flicker of naked desire in Harold’s eyes at the mention of International Motors.
So, Harold was closing in on the quarry. Well, more power to him.
The presentation was good-no, superior. Better than anything the Doran Agency-or any other, for that matter-had done heretofore. If this proposal were given an appropriate setting, worthy of its intrinsic importance, International Motors would belong to Doran for the foreseeable future, if not forever. And Harold’s star would go into orbit.
Another, in Begin’s position, might have feared helping a subordinate to, in effect, leapfrog over himself. There was a natural tendency to keep subordinates subordinate and to use them as stepping stones on one’s own trip to the top.
Begin had a larger vision, which was not without an altruistic element.
On the one hand-the beau geste-he liked Harold, and wanted to see him succeed. But few people do anything for one reason alone. Thus, on the other, more self-interested, hand, Begin was inclined to hitch his wagon to Harold’s star.
Both Begin and May understood the path frequently taken toward, and to, the top in the ad industry. One tended to be wed to one’s clients. If one got a stranglehold on a most important client, one tended to rise in the company; if the client was deemed irreplaceable the ascendancy could be to the presidential suite. In the Doran Agency, International Motors was such an invaluable customer.
Begin knew that even with all his talent, experience, and expertise he personally would never hold a most important client such as International Motors in the palm of his hand. Whereas Harold just might. With his fertile imagination and singular specialized experience, it was conceivable that Harold one day might be able to demand a presidential position with the ultimatum that otherwise he would walk to the agency down the street, taking his International Motors with him. And at such time he might well be able to carry out such a threat. On that glorious day when Harold advanced into the presidential suite, he, Bob Begin, wanted to be at the winner’s side.
So Bob Begin put all his eggs in Harold May’s basket. It was risky, but, as Begin saw it, the odds favored the bet.
Thus, Begin pulled all the necessary strings and set up the presentation. William J. Doran himself sat in-though not without trepidation- that day. It was a double-header! Not only was Harold’s head on the block, so was Begin’s.
Success!
The collective noses of just about everyone below the level of creative supervisor were bent. Harold, in short order and with few stops in between, rose from the bullpen to the post of associate creative director on the strength of-what else-the International Motors account.