Oar To Oar

I’ve been reading Boys In the Boat – about the University of Washington’s 1936 eight-oar crew comprised of the sons of loggers, shipyard workers and farmers and their pursuit of Olympic gold – and among other things, it’s got me thinking about how important it is to be in synch with the rest of the team, and conversely, what a hindrance it is when someone is, as they say, not in the same boat. The author gives the reader a complete understanding of what it takes to win, all the strength involved in every stroke, every leg drive and every release, and how this has to be rapidly and in precisely the same manner as everyone else. Or else you lose. I related to that. It’s how I feel about media not being aboard the agency.

                I never thought losing media was a good idea. We all know what it’s like to present a campaign that relies on thirty second commercials for emotional impact and other venues for various purposes, only to be informed that the media folks across the street didn’t recommend enough thirties to reach everyone. You’re sunk.

And you probably know what it’s like to lose an ad that you are certain will, in the right circumstances, strike a chord. It’s like you have this line for Charmin Ultra Soft Toilet Tissue that ends up only as an outdoor billboard, when, all along, you envisioned it running in public bathrooms, so a consumer could walk in, head to an available stall and read, “Make your trip as smooth and comfortable as possible.” You just know it will resonate. But, noooo, the media agency got a deal on highway space, where “Make your trip as smooth and comfortable as possible” sounds like an ad for Bridgestone tires.

Part of the difficulty is that when media agencies refer to the “idea” it’s an approach to placement, while ad agencies mean the communication itself and the combination of two elements. The only leader good enough to band together two groups that don’t speak the same language is, perhaps, Captain Kirk – and good luck with that. It’s a problem. And it’s only been compounded.

As the demographics in the country are changing and the minorities become the majority, we should be able to address the diversity of our target audience, and from the get-go, have everyone aligned about how this will be accomplished. Or what? Be like the republicans?

Currently, if we try reacting in real time to something that’s trending, we’ll most likely become mired in a Kafka-esque bureaucracy with the media folks (across the street) and miss the opportunity. Despite this being the age where everyone needs everything at their fingertips, we don’t always have everything at our fingertips. 

But here’s the direst effect of all: The people in the boat strain to compensate for the empty seat. Imagine if creative people and planners didn’t feel burdened to be technology experts, geeked up on every new function and app? Given that the web is media, what if we had media folks to pull some weight? Because when art direction or copywriting or planning is done right, it takes all of our attention and devotion; it takes one continuous and unbroken cycle that involves the head, heart and muscle to be mastered. To not be able to do that is tragic.

I suppose it’s one of the consequences of management, especially holding company management, not asking themselves the important questions like, How do creative people come up with ideas? And, What is needed for us to win the race? They’re playing with economies of scale and consolidation and how to get more boat for their money, not with how we can benefit from media and creative pulling together.

Fundamentally, the more time creative people spend crafting the work, the more real the audience becomes, and the more real the audience becomes, the more able creative people are to see that person, in a particular place, getting a kick out of their work – they can actually hear the laugh, see the raised eyebrow, feel the gasp. The imagined response is motivating; to the creative person, it’s what success looks like. And when people are motivated, they create a better product.

In rowing, there’s a time when all eight oarsmen are rowing in such perfect unison that it feels like the boat is a part of each of them, moving as if on its own. It’s called “swing.” It’s the rowing equivalent of being in the zone. Apparently,  “the closer a crew can come to that ideal – maintaining a good swing while rowing at a high rate – the closer they are to rowing on another plane, the plane on which champions row.” But here, the coxswain’s head is spinning and the rowers are handicapped; and with little evidence the administrators ashore even know what is lacking, there’s not much chance of something like that happening.

Hey, we weren't born yesterday.

     Typically, when guys turn fifty they start spewing kids-these-days statements.  You know, “Kids these days have it easy,” “Kids these days don’t listen to lyrics,” “Kids these days are going to the dogs.” Well, a friend of mine who falls into this category recently remarked, “Kids these days think advertising began with Crispin.” He’s got a point. Except I’d go one step further. I think a lot of older folks, as well as all the darn kids, go along as if advertising is suddenly new.

     Why would we want to ignore what happened before the world went digital? History is how we make sure we are better than we were yesterday – you can only be sure you have evolved unless you know where you’ve been, right? History gives us perspective.

     When you take the time to dust off those old ads and get beyond the old fonts and the illustrations, you see the thinking that went into them. If you look again, you extract the principles of that thinking. If you look harder, you learn the fundamentals for change. You also understand that the people claiming that ‘Advertising Is Dead’ must be short-sighted, because you’ve seen the thread that’s woven to the present.

    Who didn’t watch the movie Lincoln and draw parallels to today’s issues? When I saw it, I wished we could send Daniel Day Lewis in full Lincoln cragginess into the Capitol to knock some sense into those Congressional numb nuts. We’re still worried about the enormous political divisions that pit one American against another and we still look back to Lincoln for inspiration – not because we’ve got a thing for his long coat and the altitude of his hat but because we’re drawing principles from his actions.

     Way back in 1914, the John Wanamaker stores had been revolutionizing marketing. They had created educational, artistic and very specific newspaper ads, and by all indications, they were effective. Wanamaker had become the largest business in New York and Philadelphia. Of course, these ads would nowadays be considered impractical – these ads were really long, sometimes six columns long. They were often imposing, even for 1914. In fact, there’s this story about how Mr. Wanamaker was questioned about his advertising. According to Earnest Elmo Calkins in The Business of Advertising (1915), Mr. Wanamaker was frequently asked, “Does it pay?” Risk-averse advertisers wanted to know, “Does it pay?” And his nerdy bookkeepers demanded, “Does it pay?” But, as his marketing manager, Joseph H. Appel, wrote, ““Does it pay?” is never asked by Mr. Wanamaker. “Does it serve the public?” is his only query.”” And here’s the thing, if you read a couple of those ads, you can’t help but warm to their sincere charm and authority. You discover a wonderful skill for creating the excitement of possibility for commodities. Who knows what would happen if a little of that rubbed off. Maybe it would help us with those pop-up ads and pre-roll ads that offer us nothing and annoy the hell out of us, the public.

     Sometimes, you can go back to stuff that doesn’t even look like ads and learn something. Think about how, for centuries, folktales and fables were created to impart the lessons of life and were passed on in families and villages and royal courts. They were part of an intricate oral tradition long before they were ever put down on paper and made their way into our anthologies. If we want to know how to convey an important lesson or piece of information via word-of-mouth, if we want to know how to sell it so it will stick, if we want a little perspective about social media, why not learn from these stories, why not create better stories than the ones we are currently creating and imbue them with a flavor of magic and adventure?

     Without history, we roam about dazed, amnesiac, and blind to the world around us. Fortunately, there are tons of lessons out there. History is chock full of them. And we need the perspective, the larger trend, and we need the proof that at least some of our thinking has worked before, because we’re not getting enough answers from the here and now. I’m just saying: maybe we should spend less time looking to the technologists, the trend forecasters and the kids. Maybe we should be a little less forward thinking.

"Words, words, words." –Shakespeare

   
     When you think about it, and I don't get the feeling that too many people think about it these days, repetition is one of the most important tools in advertising, which is to say one of the most important tools in rhetoric. Repetition of words and phrases can create a rhythm, even a hint of poetry. It sets up impact. It also helps to increase retention. Ask any preacher.

     You know this year's Grand Prix winner? It goes, "Dumb ways to die, so may dumb ways to die," and then one mo' time, "Dumb ways to die, so many dumb ways to die." In Apple's "Here's to the crazy ones," the word "crazy" is stated in the beginning and then repeated twice toward the end; it's why it ends so powerfully.
     You can repeat words or phrases consecutively – "Plop, plop, fizz, fizz;" and in rhetoric, that's called Epizeuxis. You can also repeat words but have them separated by other words, like "The Dyson is an extremely powerful vacuum cleaner; and also not a bad looking vacuum cleaner." That's called Conduplicatio.
     You can repeat words at the start of successive sentences or clauses. You can repeat them at the end of sentences. You can repeat words or phrases and then, to accentuate that you're talking about something unique, you can break the pattern – "It has bells. It has whistles. It has everything. Even though it was made with human hands." There are enough varieties of repetition and enough reasons to use them to fill a book of rhetoric. (Mine is called "Classical English Rhetoric," and it's a book I keep within arm's reach of my desk.)
     Recently, I saw a commercial for Benjamin Moore (http://bit.ly/11VvdGM) in which we hear these words:

     Where we come from matters.
     Where knowing your neighbor's name matters.
     Trees carved with your grandparent's initials matter.
     Drug stores that still make milkshakes with real ice cream matter.
     And 3-story buildings that count as skyscrapers matter.
     And because these things matter, we should take care of them and make them shiny again.
     So Benjamin Moor is going to repaint Main Streets across the country this year.
     Because Main Streets make us who we are.
     And that matters.

     While the service that Benjamin Moore is supplying is nice, it's the stating of a number of things that share the same quality, followed by a break in that pattern and then the heroic return to the original construction that makes it feel important.
     Perhaps it doesn't matter that the repetition of a word or phrase at the end of a series is called an Epistrophe, but to know that such a technique exists and to what effect it can be used can, often enough, lead to an idea. (I solemnly swear it's the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the linguistic truth.) Here, it's the beauty in the words that ends up being like the beauty of the subject, the copy placing us in the right atmosphere to appreciate the simple beauty of our small towns. The words are like the perfect paint.
     Are the visuals important? Color-wise, the visuals are essential, but the words carry the idea. Just imagine them without those words: "The horror! The horror!"