Truth in Advertising Page 0,15
well lubricated from a long lunch, and Dodge, in the dumps after another day of failed Broadway auditions and orders from his parents to “find a job that doesn’t require a costume or we’ll cut you off,” formed a partnership. They bumbled their way into new business and never looked back.
Today, Frank (like Dodge) is a largely ceremonial figure, the heavy lifting of account services and creative being deftly handled by younger, smarter, faster, MBA-sporting versions. Now, with his driver and sleek Range Rover, his sartorial splendor, Frank is a man with little to do except share the details of his life of wealth. I once heard him say to a junior art director who happened to mention that she was going to the Hamptons with friends for the weekend, “Do you take a helicopter? It’s a must.” To which the junior art director responded, after Frank had gotten off the elevator before her, but still very much within earshot, “Douchebag.” He is, as the one grandmother I knew would say, a nincompoop.
Frank on advertising: “It’s my religion, my personal Jesus. And yet it’s also incredibly profitable. Can I refresh your drink?”
DODGE VANDERHOSEN
Dodge is the creative one of the duo—or was, as he has nothing to do with the creative product anymore. A late-life crisis a few years back resulted in a dramatic change of wardrobe for Dodge. Whereas once he wore sensible Brooks Brothers suits and bow ties, now he appears to have come upon a large trove of clothes from Chess King. Check pants, shoes with a substantial heel (Dodge is 5'4" on a good day), open-collared dress shirts, revealing shockingly white skin, the kind that one imagines might have appeared in Michael Jackson’s dreams. It is not uncommon to hear Bobby Short singing Cole Porter songs on the iPod in Dodge’s office, Dodge singing along in a tinny falsetto.
During my interview with Dodge several years ago, he complimented my work and then asked me if I danced.
“I’m sorry?” I said.
“Dance. Do you dance? Just curious.”
“Ahhh . . . not . . . I mean, not really.”
“Stand up.”
“I’d rather not.”
“It’ll be fun.”
I stood up and he held my hands and we danced around his office for several seconds. When we finished, he applauded and said, “Wasn’t that wonderful?”
Dodge on advertising: “It’s an art form. As surely as mime, the Irish jig, and rap. In one thousand years people will look at commercials as the pinnacle of our society’s best artistic efforts. Or possibly TV shows like ER and The Good Wife.”
But here’s the thing about Frank and Dodge. They’re believers. They believe in the power of advertising, in the importance of myth, in the malleability of fact, the invention of truth, the happiness at the end of a dollar. They are businessmen and they are very good at it. The secret of their success is not a vital service offered—the crafting of a lasting message in a loud and crowded world—but rather the relentless pursuit of supplication, to borrow from Lexus. There is nothing they won’t do for a prospective client. That said, they also provide a good wage and health insurance for hundreds of people every week, myself included. And I happily accept it. Surely this says more about me than them.
Let’s meet the rest of the cast, shall we?
MARTIN CARLSON, EXECUTIVE CREATIVE DIRECTOR
Martin is the worldwide chief creative officer, which is impressive for a man of forty-two. On paper, Martin reports to Dodge. In reality, Martin reports to no one. Dodge fears Martin, as do most people. The simple truth is that Martin runs the agency.
Martin started his career in London, rose through the ranks of one of the finest agencies there. He ran our agency’s London office before taking this job. Tall, trim, beautifully dressed, he is undeniably talented. But he also has an English accent, which makes anything he says sound thirty percent more intelligent to American clients. I’ve seen it in meetings.
A daffy client: “What do you think, Martin?”
“Me?” Martin says, blinky and Hugh Grant–charming. “Right. Well, I think you’re a ponce and a fool and frankly wonder why you exist. One man’s opinion, of course.”
The client, nodding: “I think that’s exactly right.”
I sense that Martin feels that I do not immerse myself enough in the business, in nurturing my teams, in doing what it takes to get to the next level. I sense this because these were the exact words Martin used at my review last year. I’m due for one early