Kid’s cereal. It’s the advertising we never talk about.

While half-watching cartoons with my girls, I found myself staring at a familiar face: The Trix Rabbit. Although CGI, he was just as animated as I remembered, pimping a different kind of Trix, but still the same “silly rabbit.” After his attempt at stealing Trix from the kids was foiled another “critter” bombarded my living room. And another.

And then it hit me. How come we never hear about “critter” advertising in the trades, at awards shows, in the blogosphere and, most conspicuously, from the agencies creating them? It is as if these commercials, and all their colorful animated stars, exist in a vacuum, never-never land, like they were made in Bollywood not Hollywood.

I know absolutely no one in our industry that works on these accounts. Do any of you? What agencies are making all this work? Do they put it on their credentials? How deep does one have to go to find a Fruity Pebbles case study on the agency website?

Early on at Leo Burnett, I recall doing time on Kellogg’s cereals, though mostly for adults. Once, however, I was tasked with creating a new campaign for Apple Jacks. Remember those? While ostensibly made with apples and cinnamon, the cereal tasted wonderfully like neither. Our job was to define that taste and make it relevant for kids. I still remember my line: Apple Jacks tastes like what you like. Brilliant, right? It never got out of the agency.

Anyway, that was the last time I contemplated advertising (for) children’s breakfast cereal. Until I had children. Until just now.

As practitioners of the craft, we never “go there.”

There’s no category for it at award shows. (Is there?) Granted, the universal crappiness of the genre (if genre is the right word) precludes these sorts of creations from short-listing anywhere but on mom’s grocery list. But you get my point. Advertising for children’s cereal is a non-topic. Aside from occasional regulatory blather about advertising to kids, we (as an industry) neither criticize nor promote it. Scroll your blogroll. Check the archives. Try and find one story. Of Sir Martin Sorrel or Howard Draft there are hundreds. Count Chocula and Tucan Sam. None.

Is it a conspiracy or just the opposite, nobody cares?

Creativity vs Process. Please don’t squeeze the Chairman.

A situation came up at work today, which pitted Creative against Process…As Chief Creative Officer I am first and foremost an advocate for Creativity. Duh, right? But here’s where it gets tricky. I also happen to be Chairman of Euro RSCG Chicago. And while process is not necessarily in that job description, intuitively I feel managing process (not managing against it) is.

And so here I was, with a pair of embattled creatives looking for support. And on the other side of the table, two worried account executives beseeching me for a version of the same. What’s a Chairman and Chief Creative Officer to do?

I am reminded of that famous parable, where the philosopher (Socrates?) settles a dispute over the lineage of a child by suggesting they cut the little one in two. According to the legend, he knew the real parent would never accept this bargain. And thus the rogue was revealed.

The stakes today were clearly not that high (and I’m no philosopher) but for the young creative team, their idea was not unlike a child, and that creation was in mortal jeopardy. For the suits, it was all about managing a metaphorical parent AKA the client.

I’m not comfortable relaying the specifics. It’s company business. And we (I) have not arrived at an equitable solution. But the dilemma is worth discussing in the abstract because it is a classic one. I mean, really. How long have we seen these battle lines drawn?

What I think is interesting in this case is not so much the squabble between suit and creative but, frankly, my role in the matter. Unlike a pure creative director, I take the “other” side almost as often as I do my own. And certainly just as seriously.

Maybe that makes me a little less creative but I doubt it. At Euro, we talk about Responsible Passion in our creative department. And this is precisely where the “R” word comes in. As Chairman, I am responsible for the well being of our agency and that means every facet of it, not just creative. It also means I deserve a fair shake from the managing directors and the CEO. Which I get. And will get tomorrow when we resolve this thing.

In the end, we are not an account driven agency any more than we are a creative boutique. Agencies always talk about doing “both” when it comes to building brands and driving sales. The same principle applies here. I like that and I think most of our employees and clients do too.

Curious what my peers think. Do I have this about right…or am I a traitor?

The ever-changing ad agency. Integration or Evolution?

My business partner, Ron Bess has an interesting theory about our business. He posited that agencies, in order to flourish, must now evolve every six to eight months.

For example agency X is an advertising/design boutique in the 1st quarter. A new client demands expertise in promotion and by the 4th quarter the shop is touting it’s promotional capabilities in its credentials. After all, they now have a case study, fresh and robust. Perhaps two or three new employees, versed in promotion, have been hired. The home office in New York now regards the shop as its promotional arm and, voila, agency X is reborn. While this is a gross over-simplification of Ron’s notion, it is accurate. Agencies evolve. Rapidly. Often the new entity is very different from the one that preceded it. A byproduct of “integration” or is there more to it?

Leo Burnett supported the development of LBWorks (my previous agency) in order to service B2B and technology clients. There was a glaring need for specialists in these areas and we got after it. That said I remember being scared at the prospect of leading the agency’s creative department. I had no issue with technology but B2B? Wasn’t that just code for trade ads? And weren’t trade ads the providence of advertising’s minor leagues? I was terrified about writing technical copy (“integrated data-based solutions”) and making photographs featuring suited white men shaking hands in airports.

Happily, my paranoia was unfounded. When I realized B2B meant big time businesses advertising to other big time businesses, I felt like I’d discovered the golden goose. Some of the best ads (and other marketing communications) were being done on behalf of such interests. Not only would big ideas be required they were essential. My “creativity” would not be compromised. Frankly, if I were to succeed, it would need to be emphasized. Sure enough, the accounts we pulled in were no less sexy than the blue-chippers at Leo Burnett.

Within a year LBWorks became an advertising agency, filled with specialists in technology and white-collar enterprise.

At my current agency, per Ron’s observation, we’ve adjusted our mission to client need and marketplace gravity. Our offering is plural and getting more so. It’s exciting, a bit nerve wracking, yet essential. With consultants and clients emphasizing specific marketing services during the RFI process, we are perpetually customizing our credentials. I think a lot of agencies are. Or they’d better be.

In the end it’s all about ideas but MGMT obsesses about mission statements and the like. “Who are we?” we are always asking ourselves. What if we are something new and different every year? Why not just own that?

“Confidence” makes Canadian Club best in show but Cadillac a hot rod for MILFs.

What is it about Canadian Club’s print campaign that makes it best in show advertising? The art direction and copy are first rate.  I still can’t tell if those photos were made, found or what. Their reckless boisterousness is irresistible. The art perfectly augments a declarative tagline: “Damn right your dad drank it.”

But stellar art direction and copy are prices for entry in the finalist category. What factor(s) took CC’s campaign to the next level? Why is it so “damn” good?

For obvious reasons, it’s a question worth looking at. Figure out what’s magic about top-flight work and maybe you can create some yourself. My friend and current CEO of Publicis and Hal Riney in San Francisco, Jamie King answered the question in one word: Confidence.

The “Damn Right” campaign has it in spades. And not just because of randy pictures and tough language. Again, price of entry. (And, sometimes, cost of exit). The genuine confidence comes from a brand that looked at itself honestly, found its weakest link, and fixed it.

Jamie’s agency pitched CC, losing to Energy BBDO and the “Damn Right” campaign. During the pitch, his team spoke to numerous drinkers. The comment they kept hearing about Canadian Club was that it was something their Dads drank a long time ago. In other words, CC was old-fashioned and not for them.

Instead of reacting to this learning by forcing a modernization strategy, CC and Energy BBDO turned the perceived negative into an actual positive. “Damn right your father drank it.” He also “had” a lot of women before your mother. In fact he “had groupies” and was absolutely “not a metrosexual.” Owning up to who you are takes true confidence. Positioning CC as “not your father’s Canadian Club” would have been falsely confident and a mistake.

False confidence drives a lot of advertising. I still cringe every time Kate Walsh asks, on behalf of the new Cadillac CTS: “When you turn your car on does it return the favor?” It’s a nifty line, and she’s hot, and I’m sure the car holds its own in the luxury market… So why, then, is the commercial so completely annoying?

While the CTS is not your father’s Caddy that doesn’t mean it has to be a hot rod for MILFs. The campaign is “fronting” for Cadillac.

I don’t doubt certain people like these vehicles and these ads. But mark my words this campaign will not win any creative prizes. And it isn’t because of the writing or art direction, which is fiery and bold; it’s because of tone and manner. Ushering in these bodacious machines, it feels like Mussolini showing off his weapons to Hitler. False confidence.

Canadian Club owns it’s past and tells the truth about it. The confidence is genuine and the ads are relevant, engaging and, best of all, fun.

Confidence is key criteria for many advertisers, especially those appealing to young men. Best make sure and get it right, damn it!

Why are creatives such big babies? Because we’re “connecting to our inner fantastic.”

For those keeping score, I’m sorry for the delay in posting. I had something prepared but our head of PR asked that I delay putting it out there until certain permissions were granted. My inner child wanted to rebel but respect for my partner’s counsel won out. Discretion was, in this case, the better part of valor. Look for the questionable post soon enough.

Speaking of my inner child, I spent the evening at my children’s school, meeting their teachers, discussing the upcoming year. During this visit, I became aware of how “creative” so much of my girl’s curriculum really is. Colette’s science teacher explained how “experimenting and taking chances” shapes her powers of intuition. Lily’s drama teacher rhapsodized about “connecting to the inner fantastic.” She used the word “connecting” over and over again. “At this age,” she said, “the creative gene is ready to explode!”

I couldn’t help but think of all the “connecting” strategies I’ve puzzled over as a copywriter and creative director. “Connecting people” is the default strategy for all telecommunications, personal technology, and, frankly, just about everything people use in their waking lives. Connecting folks is Coca Cola’s uber-strategy. “I’d like to buy the world a coke.”

Even more interesting was this business about creativity “exploding.” I believe the teacher was saying that our creative muse is born in these opening years of life. That stimulated and nurtured, we begin to understand and respect our intuitions. Kindergarten is a creative department. Experimenting with ideas on the stage, colors on paper, sounds in music class…Christ, that’s what I do!

Or that’s what I prefer doing. Much of my day, however, is spent lawyering on behalf of ideas. Defending them. Subjecting them to all manner of worries and concerns, making them more appropriate, more coherent, more on strategy. It’s inevitable. It’s my job. But it’s also like killing the butterfly in order to appreciate it.

The older I get the more I realize how important it is to stay “connected” to my “inner child.” The best creative people do not grow out of it when they grow up. We remain inquisitive like children. Lovers of fun. You see it in our bicycles in the hallway. Our dubious wardrobes. Our playlists. Our flirty snapshots on Facebook. Alas, you also see it in meetings, where we become pouting and defensive, wilting under criticism, frustrated by the grown-ups ruining our fun. I know we can be insufferable. Imposing MBA logic in Romper Room is bound to create problems.

But our muses shan’t be stymied. The ability to ideate, to find that “inner fantastic” is necessarily petulant. Regrettable, then, is marketing’s obsession with guaranteeing results…or else! Research. Testing. Groups. I say Bleh! Intuition, if cultivated and nurtured, is the most important tool in kindergarten and, in my opinion, the creative department. The old saw is wrong -our ideas are not children. We are.

Is the end near for Element 79 or merely darkness before the dawn?

In early 2001, I became Chief Creative Officer of a hybrid agency at Leo Burnett called LBWorks. About that time Element 79 began their new agency a few blocks away. Having this in common, I instantly viewed them as competition, two horses in a race. A race to what, I now wonder: more accounts, more awards, more billings? Ego can be a ridiculous thing.

In any event, there we were: options in a town not hard up for more. I think LBWorks began with about 50 or-so people and I imagine E79 did so as well. They had one acclaimed client (Gatorade) and so did we: Altoids. DDB and Omnicom backed E79. LBWorks had Burnett and Publicis. Like I said, lots in common.

We came off the blocks quicker, pulling in four new accounts in less than a year: Lexmark, Earthlink, Storagetek and Gateway. (Two years later LBWorks had a champagne supernova and the dream was over. Undone by our own success. it’s a good story but not for here.)

Slower to grow, Element 79 hung around, always doing exemplary work on Gatorade, gradually picking up business, and eventually becoming a real player in its own right. Creatively, only Nike had a better tagline in the category than Gatorade’s “Is it in you?” E79 possessed a potent offence, run by charismatic Chief Creative Officer, Dennis Ryan.

Not long ago, they beat my current agency, Euro RSCG, in a lengthy, emotionally draining shootout for Harris Bank. We busted our butts on that one and I was positive we’d won. And I was wrong. Element 79 had been a worthy nemesis.

Until, perhaps, now. With flagship Gatorade gone and all of Quaker leaving, it doesn’t look good. Ironically, they still have Harris Bank but you don’t have to be an accountant to know what that bills. Not enough. Not enough to feed the engines that fuel a mid-sized advertising agency like Element 79.

Maybe Element 79 has an ace no one knows about. Will Omnicom aid its wounded sentry? More likely, they will absorb the remaining troops, probably into DDB. And, of course, there will be casualties. The rumors are already out there. But if the end is near, let me be the first to offer salutations: You came. You conquered. You will be remembered well.

Which is better than most. Take the place I work at now. It’s previous incarnation (Euro RSCG Tatham Partners) ingloriously imploded, leaving dark stains in an all but empty building. Very messy.

The fate of Element 79, should it be time to talk of fate, will not be as gruesome. The epilogue favors a sequel, not a finale.

The CCC. An awards show comeback worthy of an award.

CCC winners, including Best in Show.

After much controversy, criticism and concern, the Chicago Creative Club awards was resurrected last night in the United Club at Soldier Field. While it was by no means a flawless affair, it was a far sight better than the debacle some 15 months ago. Without going into it, the previous show had degraded into a one-sided and ugly contest right before many of our eyes. Participants left drunk and/or dismayed and certainly disenchanted. We woke up to beastly reviews from the local press. Most felt the show had been ruined beyond repair.

We pointed fingers at one another, pissed and moaned about Chicago’s deteriorated creative community, and then, well, went back to our business. There were ads to make. Websites to build. Pitches to win.

Something happened, however, on the way to the funeral. A small group of decent creative persons decided not to let the thing die. Chief among them the Chief Creative Officer of Two by Four, David Stevenson. He came to consultant, Ann Brown’s side when few others would and set up to rebuild our beleaguered award show into something we could all be proud of. Others scoffed. Many more were indifferent. But the coalition of the willing grew. By the time I was asked to help it was “on” again, even if many big questions remained.

We decided to use preeminent local judges, not flown in “stars” from other agencies. The idea here was simple. We made the mess. We had to fix it. Fostering real community was critical. Having a judge from every participating agency meant that participation was certain. Beyond our ads, we now all had skin in the game, literally.

And so, on a Saturday in August two dozen of Chicago’s best creative talents convened at Euro RSCG and made their selections from a previously culled shortlist. My creative partner and ECD of Euro RSCG, Blake Ebel was among them. His quote, caught on camera, summed it up. “This is pretty awesome, guys, all of us together, judging each other’s work.”

Indeed, a jury of our peers. Then and there, Chicago’s creative community was reborn. And from what I could tell, that corp d’esprit carried right over into the show. The best pieces won and, more importantly, we were able to congratulate each other for doing them. Gone was the rude peanut gallery and with it, the copious amounts of Schadenfreud that polluted shows previous. In addition to good ads and good people, the much-maligned venue (too far, no cabs, etc) shined for us that night. After the ceremony, cocktails and light dinner were had out of doors beneath the mighty pillars of Soldier Field. We were even graced by a late evening fireworks show, probably courtesy of some rich couple’s wedding at the Yacht club nearby!

But for me the highpoint came at the end of the awards presentation. Best of show had been given to BBDO, for its ripping Canadian Club campaign: “Damn Right Your Dad Drank It.” Everyone cheered. And cheered. And cheered some more. A deserving campaign, but the applause was bigger. It felt like the biggest winner of all was… us.

A final note: Beware smugness. The CCC may be out of the weeds but hardly in safe harbor. More improvement is necessary. While turnout was a pleasant surprise, there should have been more people, especially newcomers and students. Somehow, ticket prices will have to come down. And where was Cramer Krasselt? As a leading creative agency in town, their seeming boycott was a blot.

A complete list of winners was not available as of this writing. Please check the CCC website for updates. The awards show book comes out this Fall.

Insecurity in the creative department. It happens to the best of us.

the creative muse, beset with insecurity.

Busy time at the agency. Lots of pitches. Lots of production. And always lots of meetings. Being both a player and a coach in the creative department, I experience the pressure like a barometer –a sensitive yet accurate measurer of my department’s zeitgeist. And I’m not the only one.

We in creative are an insecure lot. I’m not ashamed to say it. We crave validation from our peers, bosses, clients and then everyone else, AKA consumers. That’s a lot of masters to please. Then, if you’re like me, having worked obsessively, you spend the rest of your life in or near the doghouse at home. Yikes, no wonder we want awards! As “commercial artists,” we are forever at someone’s beck and call. And our patrons are seldom benevolent. So, we bust our butts at work while mortgaging our home life. In both cases craving adulation and respect that we’re not likely to receive.

Am I being melodramatic? Sort of.

I’d also argue that insecurity (with our place in the creative group, the agency, even the world) is part of a creative person’s DNA. Let me explain. We are paid to solve problems with conceptual thinking. Our most important creations are ideas. And, by design, these ideas are subject to criticism. Lots of it. As creatives, we are hyper-aware of this reality. On Day 1, we want desperately to please our new partner and boss; show him or her what we’re made of. In our twilight years, we know the next idea may be our last. In between, we have fought tooth and nail to make a book…a name. “You are only as good as your last idea,” goes the voice in our head.

One can be taught how to better write or render ideas. Copy can be rewritten. There is always another typeface. But your ideas are purely a measure of YOU. And we know it!

As a creative director, I take pride in being able to find a good idea in a mess of bad ones. That’s part of my job. But it’s not my favorite part. I neither want to be the maker of messes or the guy who cleans them up. No creative person wants any part of that equation. Not really. Yet, in order to make an omelet you’ve got to break eggs. Creation is messy.

Under these conditions it’s hard to let go of our ego-driven fears. But understanding what’s causing these insecurities is the first step. Think of it as not crying over spilled ideas.

I manage insecurity every day. Both my own and in others. Accepting it as our reality helps make the creative process more enjoyable, even if it means making or cleaning messes!

My family’s in Disneyworld but I’m in Never Never Land!

I told you we should have stayed home and read Happy Soul Industry!

As many of you know my girls are in Disneyworld. That means I’m home alone and that means cheap cigars and zombie movies. Flying solo, one needs to be unhealthy in body and mind. To epitomize this ideal, tonight I opened with a screening of “Harold & Kumar go to White Castle.” What an effen masterpiece. I had no idea. While watching it I ate the next best thing to sliders: Crispy Duck and the General’s Chicken from Wing Ho…or do you say “Ha?” Either way, I feasted on joyously delinquent humor and crispy birds. I don’t get high anymore but I was giddy from the debauchery alone. Too much fun.

Begging your pardon here, but I have to shill for my novel. Hiss, Hiss, I know. But The Happy Soul Industry is finally “in stock” at Amazon! You’d think I was an important writer the way they kept running out. My guess is, lacking confidence in yours truly; Amazon only ordered a few books at a time. In any event, that has been corrected. Books are shipping. So, please, for the love of Gods of Advertising, order yourself a copy. Not only will I sign it but also I’ll read it to your kids at night. Hmm, that sounds pretty creepy. Suffice to say, I will be eternally grateful.

I know Happy Soul is a great concept. Whether my writing is up to it, you decide. Please!

Well, it’s time for my second feature. Will it be the zom-com “Fido” or a second viewing of “Planet Terror?” And maybe a bowl of ice cream. Will it be mint chocolate chip or fudge brownie? Either way, I’m putting Cocoa Puffs on top. What can I say? I’m 16 years old. Tonight anyway.

My Dad was a mad man before Mad Men was cool. Sort of.

Dan and his brood.Dad and his brood.

My dad tells a funny story about his earliest days in advertising and I hope he’ll forgive me for telling it here. Must have been around 1960, in Chicago. Junior Achievement was still a viable doorway for men beginning careers and my father was no exception…

An aspiring writer, young Larry finds himself seated next to a smallish, older man at a JA banquet downtown. My dad is unaware of the old man’s identity. Maybe he’s thinking about the White Sox or, more likely, some girl in Rogers Park. Anyway, not long into lunch, the gentleman leans over to my future father and speaks. “So, young man, I understand you want to be an advertising copywriter. May I ask why?”

“Because,” my dad blurts, “you make the most and work the least.”

Aghast, the man replies: “Is that so? Well, I’m Leo Burnett and I can tell you this, as long as I live you’ll never work at my agency!”

Though my father had an illustrious career in Chicago (mostly at Needham, Harper & Steers now DDB), he never did wield one of Leo’s famous black pencils. He almost took a job there after Leo died. But that’s another story. I ended up working there 17 years but that, too, is another story.

Why I plucked this chestnut from the Postaer pantry I’ve no idea. Could be I’m feeling nostalgic after viewing two episodes of Mad Men on DVR. Like me, my dad loves this show. Probably because he lived it. The early sixties were his time, too. Smoking and drinking, even in one’s office. Hitting on the girls in the steno pool (whatever that is). It really was like that.

For me, the Leo Burnett-JA story plays like an outtake from Mad Men. The above anecdote captures two men in a moment in time, precisely.

Vintage. Comical. Real. I see Leo Burnett’s rumpled suit, a box of Marlboros in his front pocket. I can almost hear my dad’s voice: the naïve audacity of his remark. While Pop’s confidence would serve him well in days to come, not on that one.

Obviously, my father did not get where he is today making boneheaded comments. Quite the contrary. From what I’ve been told, and seen for myself, he’s actually a consummate professional the likes of which Ad Land seldom sees.

Yet, in some screwy way, the story makes me love advertising and my father even more. Not to mention Mad Men.