Leo Burnett: The art of belief

He was the advertising giant who understood what people really want.

Starting an advertising agency is difficult even in the best of times. Starting one in the worst of times—the Great Depression of the 1930s—defies belief. Yet in Leo Burnett’s case, that is exactly what it took—belief, and a lot of it.

The Depression had a firm grip on Chicago in 1935, but that didn’t deter the former Cadillac Motor Company employee. He mortgaged his home and started his advertising agency with $50,000 capital, and a bowl of red delicious apples in reception.

Until that time, Burnett’s only experience with advertising agencies was employing them, first as Cadillac’s advertising manager, and then as the advertising manager of Cadillac’s competitor: LaFayette Motors. It is perhaps the supreme irony that the financial failure of the latter was the motivation for Leo Burnett to join the advertising agency he had employed to save it.

Leo Burnett started as a copywriter. His distinctive copy-style was simple and evocative. He was characterised as the writing equivalent of the iconic Norman Rockwell. Like Rockwell, he could evoke middle-America and its perception of itself.

Significantly, and arguably, he was the first of the advertising greats to put the consumer first. He believed in the consumer, understood the consumer, and shared—he believed—their needs and values.

It seems a simple precept today, but back in the 30s it was exactly that belief and the belief that he could offer the giants of industry something different that lead him to start his agency with eight staff and the aforementioned apples.

Incidentally, one of those staff was Draper Daniels, who is believed to have been the inspiration for Mad Men’s Don Draper. That said, there are others, including David Ogilvy, of whom that claim has been made. Draper Daniels has at least the name in common.

By the late 50s, Leo Burnett emerged as the prime mover of advertising’s creative revolution—prompted in part by the advent of television. His agency handled some of the largest clients of the time, among them: Proctor & Gamble, General Motors, United Airlines, Kellogg’s, and Shiltz Beer. Among the great advertising icons that Burnett and his team created are the Jolly Green Giant, Pillsbury Dough Boy, and the legendary Marlboro Man.

In 1999, Time Magazine named Leo Burnett as one of the 100 most influential people of the 20th century. Today, the agency he started has 9,000 employees in 85 offices globally, and legend has it there is still a bowl of apples in every reception.

There is little doubt that Leo Burnett took a risk back in 1935. The timing couldn’t have been worse for a fledgling advertising agency. But he made it work—for its first few years the agency billed an extraordinary $1 million annually. Today of course, we are talking in the billions.

Could Leo Burnett have pulled it off today? I think so. There is a certain indefatigable approach taken by young people entering advertising today and those that break away from established agencies to form their own. Many fail, of course. But many, through talent and persistence and one other factor, succeed.

What is that other factor? It is nothing new—we mentioned it earlier and it is something that motivated Leo Burnett to start his agency against all odds in 1935. It is belief. Belief in ourselves, belief in advertising, belief that somehow, somewhere it (advertising) can be done better, and belief that we are the people that can do it.

Bryce Courtenay - The Power of Creativity

Bryce Courtenay: the advertising executive who went exploring.

It is not uncommon among “creatives” working in advertising to yearn for a higher calling. This is not to denigrate what they are doing now; most are entirely satisfied with being perceived as someone with the gift of being able to create something from nothing…and being paid for it. Some even wallow in the nomenclature—perpetuate it and accentuate it (and therein is a warning for clients—the paymasters—you buy a show-pony at your peril; get yourself a healthy dose of pragmatism as well—somebody that really takes the time to get to know you and your product).

Nevertheless, for most creatives there is always something else, something out there. Something for which their “gift” could be more usefully employed than simply selling—say—Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Such was the case with Australian advertising doyen Bryce Courtenay. Despite an illustrious and lengthy career in advertising that saw him create legendary characters such as Louie the Fly and the original Milkybar Kid, Courtenay wanted more.

As with many copywriters, that meant a novel.

Little wonder, considering that Courtenay’s early life reads like a work of fiction. Born in a small village in the Lebombo Mountains near the Limpopo River of South Africa, Courtenay was the product of an affair. He spent his early years in an orphanage; when he went to work, it was in the copper mines of Rhodesia where, he claimed, he never showered without a knife or a pistol for fear of being raped. Later he travelled to London to study journalism. It was there that he met his first wife: Australian, Benita Solomon. It was because of Benita that he moved permanently to Australia and his writing career began.

Nobody can say for sure what attracted the young journalist to advertising. However, it is fair to assume—through later events—that it was the opportunity to create rather than report; to wake each morning knowing that by the end of the day you will have created—you hope—something from nothing.

For twenty-five years Courtenay did it and did it well, first as creative director at McCann Erickson, then J. Walter Thompson, and finally, George Patterson Advertising. He had risen to the top of his profession.

But, he wanted more.

Courtenay told me over dinner that it was in the mid-1980s when exhausted and with serious health issues, he decided that he would leave his high-living (three bottles of wine and a packet of cigarettes a day), high-paid job in advertising and became an author. The deal he made with Benita was that he would set aside three years for the purpose. The first year, he would dedicate to writing a practice novel; the second year would be dedicated to writing an “actual” novel, and the third to writing one more novel, if unsuccessful, in his second year. If after three years he was not published, Courtenay would, he promised Benita, return to advertising.

There is a story behind the rest of the story, and how much of it is true, as told to me, I cannot say. Suffice to say that Courtney’s “practice” novel, The Power of One, earned him an advance of US$1.0 million and became a highly successful film. He went on to write 23 books and sell 20 million copies to became one of Australia’s most prolific and revered authors.

Yet for all his fame and despite having met his commitment to Benita on his first try, something interesting, something more compelling happened to Courtenay—he returned to advertising.

It wasn’t full-time and there was certainly no financial necessity. So, what pulled him back in? Perhaps it was because Bryce Courtenay went exploring. He set out to find that higher calling: a copywriter turned published author. Perhaps he was disappointed in what he found. Perhaps in the solitary life of an author he missed the collaborative approach which is an innate part of great advertising.

Or was it something more?

Bryce Courtenay was known to extravagate. He once said, “I take a fact, put a top hat on it, a silk shirt, and a bow tie.” I know what he meant by that—to take a fact—a product—and make it special.

That, is the power of advertising.

That, is perhaps what pulled him back.

David Ogilvy

David Mackenzie Ogilvy, a Scotsman, was king of American advertising for a hefty chunk of the mid-20th Century.

He ruled largely by decree. His principles of effective advertising which he espouses in his seminal autobiography, Ogilvy on Advertising, became part of advertising law and lore. Many of them still permeate the advertising industry today, though their author is largely unknown by the millennials for whom the past is more an encumbrance than an asset.

Still, in his day there were few inside and outside of advertising who didn’t know the name David Ogilvy. He was arguably the best copywriter of his time and some of the campaigns he created are now classics. It is widely believed that Madman’s Don Draper is modelled after him—and it is true that the consummate self-promoter, David Ogilvy, became advertising’s first superstar, predating the likes of the Saatchi brothers.

Yet, despite this and despite coming up with such socially progressive mantras as “The customer is not a moron, she’s your wife”, David Ogilvy and many of his views on advertising would today be far from effective and, to paraphrase another advertising doyen, John Wanamaker, would fall squarely into the half of an advertising budget that is wasted.

The reason is that the premise of just about everything Ogilvy created was based on two governing principles: research and the need to sell. In principle, that sounds fine, but the world has changed since Ogilvy’s day and indeed changes daily. So has advertising. So must advertising. The trouble with research and focus on selling being governing factors is that neither allows flexibility and both are time-consuming. I am not saying that they shouldn’t find a home as part of the creative process. They deserve to have some say. But we also must acknowledge that the expectations and influences that pervade today’s market(s) are so diverse and often contradictory that the one size fits all philosophy is largely ineffectual and often counter-productive.

I’ll give you one example: gender. Gender isn’t important anymore. In fact, it is dangerously important. That’s why linking, even by implication, morons and wives would be unacceptable today. Ogilvy got away with it then because the sexes—all two of them—were stereotyped. There are more than two today and none can be accurately categorised in term of attitude, behaviour, beliefs and, importantly for us, buying habits.

That’s why sales and selling cannot be the sole focus, let alone the purpose, of advertising. Today’s consumer—and, by the way even the word consumer, is archaic and somewhat demeaning—demands more. They don’t want to be “sold” something, they want authority over the buying process. People do not buy goods and services. They buy relationships, stories, and magic, and in this age of the hideously-termed Fake News, advertisers had better make sure that they deliver. Hyperbole has its use as a sweetener but for a market that is saying to us “convince me,” it is simply no longer enough.

Given space, I could cite many other reasons why David Ogilvy’s innate inflexibility should be consigned to advertising’s once revered but now rusting toolbox. Don’t get me wrong: in his day David Ogilvy was a legend. But, he and his basic—very basic—beliefs have had their day.

Still and by way of tribute to Mr Ogilvy and the other legends of advertising who swept advertising into the forefront of marketing, I give you this:

Oscar Wide said imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. What then of lampooning? One of David Ogilvy’s most famous print headlines was, “At 60 miles an hour the loudest noise in the new Rolls-Royce comes from the electric clock”; I think it was Jaguar who responded with, “(With Jaguar) At 60 miles an hour, you don’t even hear the clock.”

Clever that.

How private is Facebook?

On the first of May, Facebook announced that they’re adding “Clear History” as a privacy tool.

Before I get into the nitty gritty of this update, I just want you to know, dear reader, that I will take on this blog in two ways:

• as a Facebook user and

• as someone whose job includes advertising on Facebook.

There are currently 2.20 billion monthly active Facebook users as per the first quarter of 2018, worldwide. As one of the users in this statistic, I, in all honesty don’t really care for this update. I mean, it’s good to be reassured by Facebook that we have the option to delete our cookies and history. But my personal problem with this is, Facebook will always have these records anyway. How else are they supposed to sell advertising space if not by analysing their users’ activities?

It comes down to each one of the 2.20 billion users’ discretion. Whether we admit it or not, if we sign up for a Facebook account, we trust the platform to a large degree. Some of us can be completely ignorant as to how it really works (so we post and post and post away). While some of us are sceptics and have said time and again that we’re giving up Facebook for good but we can’t seem to do so. Why? Because to some degree, social media has dictated our existence. Ever heard of “If you’re not on Facebook, do you even exist”?

Better yet, check out this video about ‘A Modern Dating Horror Story’. No spoilers here, just see it for yourself and I promise, you’ll shake your head in agreement.

I was in high school when I created my Facebook account, which was over 10 years ago. Yes, it’s been around for a while now. If you told me then that my future career would involve being on Facebook every single day, I would have laughed. Now, as someone whose job includes advertising on Facebook, it’s come to my attention that Facebook and other social media platforms has evolved into something more essential to people than we’d like to admit.

Since taking on the path of a career in advertising, I’ve become more aware of how social media works and the truth is, it can be extremely invasive of privacy. With the responsibility of having multiple advertisers’ accounts under my belt, I’d want to know as much as I can about the audience of every account. Which, of course, involves getting information from Facebook, such as their demographics and interests.

You might be asking why is it even important for companies to have a presence on Facebook. My answer to that is the same quote as I’ve mentioned previously: “If you’re not on Facebook, do you even exist?” It comes down to an existence based on familiarity. Familiarity that can only be achieved through constant invasion of your mind space, attacking your privacy day by day.

Privacy is important, but sadly, that’s not how businesses work. We need to know what you like or what you might be interested in so you wouldn’t get irrelevant ads. However, most of us never thought through (or rather, never read the terms and conditions) how sinister just being on social media is. We willingly engage in activities that take away our privacy every single day. Information that we’d never give away in our daily lives. If a bus driver says you can only hop on the bus by giving them your complete name, date of birth, and contact information, would you do it?

We give away so much that it’s become bewildering how brand awareness can be increased through social media. We’re all exposed to as many as 5,000 ads every single day. Kiwis alone spend an average of 50 minutes on Facebook daily, and with each scroll, click, and tap, Facebook determines the ads that pop-up on your news feed. So whether you notice them or not, you’re subconsciously seeing ads. You might not remember all of them at once but when your memory is triggered, chances are it’s because of an ad that you saw earlier.

Facebook and social media has gained an immense amount of power because we worship it through consumption. Anything that’s given that much attention has the capability to take over our thoughts and behaviour. Whoever dictated that social media defines your existence anyway? If you were born, you exist. If you created a business, it exists. But who says that you have to give up your privacy in order to truly exist? Just because you exist on social media, doesn’t mean you matter – and even if you don’t exist on social media, you still matter.

Advertisers would do just about anything for you to know they exist and to end up consuming their products or services. Even if it means becoming background noise for a while. We’re all used to seeing so many ads and what advertisers really spend their money on is to get your attention. Your attention is a valuable thing, and my job to tailor ads in such a way that you’ll give me permission to feed you these ads. Think of it as you socialising with your mates and suddenly, a sales person walks up to you and says “hello, you need this product!”

In summary, we can never go off the grid unless we live in a cave in the middle of nowhere. If privacy were an animal, it would be extinct. As users and advertisers, we can only hope that everyone on the platform has a good enough moral compass to respect everyone’s privacy – but we have to accept the fact that we’re never going to be completely private as long as we keep using these platforms.