A Winter Dream - By Richard Paul Evans Page 0,47
would never happen.
“Today, creative ideas are being run through bureaucratic grinders until everything is pablum.”
“Pablum?”
“Mush,” he said. “Flavorless, bland and pasty. I want to see if we can counter that trend. I’ve been looking for the right talent to wrestle Creative back from the committee mentality. I think that someone is you.”
I looked at him in disbelief. “Me?”
“I didn’t just see those campaigns of yours today. I’ve been studying them for weeks. I’ve shared them with the people I trust most. There’s a raw brilliance to them, maybe more than you know.”
“I’m flattered, really, but I don’t have much experience with the business side of advertising.”
“Exactly,” he said, pointing at me. “I want someone unblemished by the internal systems we’ve created that have fostered this decline.
“I have a dream of a creative renaissance starting right here at Leo Burnett. I want you to champion our creative teams as the direct liaison with our clients. I want to weaken the committee syndrome and bring about a new golden age for advertising. I want you to encourage our creative teams to do what they do best—create. I want you to find where and how we are punishing our innovators and remedy that. This will be a new, unique position, answering only to me.” He sat back against the edge of the desk. “So, what do you think?”
“About the concept or your offer?”
He smiled at my question. “Both.”
“I believe you’re right about the committee effect. I started my career in a small agency with mid-range regional clients. That gave us a lot more control and flexibility, which is why we were able to outperform our larger competition, both in awards and results.”
Ferrell nodded. “My point exactly.”
“As far as your offer, I hope your faith in me is not misplaced, but I’d be a fool to turn it down. When do we start?”
Ferrell smiled. “Right now,” he said, walking to the front of his office. “Come over to the table, let me show you how we’re going to realize my dream.”
CHAPTER
Twenty-six
I have wondered why it is that our greatest triumphs spring from our greatest extremity and adversity. Perhaps it is because we are so resistant to change, we only move when our seat becomes too hot to occupy.
Joseph Jacobson’s Diary
Mr. Ferrell named his program The Florence Initiative (TFI), in homage to Florence, Italy, the birthplace of the Renaissance. The tranquil nine-to-five days of the satellite office were long gone. Everything happened so fast that I didn’t even get the chance to see Leonard to say goodbye, though I did call him. To my surprise he sounded genuinely happy with my promotion. I was glad I had gotten to know him.
I was given an office next to Mr. Ferrell’s, with a beautiful view of Seventh Avenue. I hired my own personal assistant—Krysten—a young marketing graduate from Nebraska. My salary more than quadrupled. I was given a starting bonus, an extravagant wardrobe allowance, an expense account and a gym membership at the New York Athletic Club. I’m not saying my personal life was great, but suffering in luxury is still better than suffering in poverty.
Backed by Mr. Ferrell’s passion, our TFI program hit the agency like a flash flood. I spent the next six months meeting with each of the Leo Burnett New York creative teams and reviewing all of the campaigns the agency was working on—which meant hundreds of hours of reading, critiquing and follow-up. I didn’t mind the long hours. For centuries, men and women have thrown themselves into their work to avoid confronting the pain of their own grief.
Mr. Ferrell was spot-on about the committee syndrome and its crippling effect on our creative work. Viewing the campaigns before and after committee approval was like seeing a boxer’s face before and after the title fight. It was my job to champion the “before” and restore our Creative’s original intent.
I didn’t expect it to be easy and it wasn’t. At first the creative directors were suspicious of my motives and threatened by my involvement with their work. But, as I showed them that my goal was to put them back in charge of their own ideas, they changed their tune. In fact, I was soon seen as their greatest ally. One of them even coined a title for me, which was quickly adopted agency-wide: Creative Czar.
It took nearly a year for Mr. Ferrell’s vision to pay off. But it did. As our Creative started generating buzz on Madison Avenue, Wall Street, and Main Street America,