From James Lileks to David Ogilvy
James Lilek's "In Defense of Advertising" cast my mind back to David Ogilvy, whom I got to know during the last few years of his life. The founder of Ogilvy & Mather, Ogilvy, a Scot who had emigrated to the United States, was one of the three or four greatest admen of the twentieth century, which is to say, come to think of it, that he was one of the three or four greatest admen ever. I'd read his books, Confessions of an Advertising Man and Ogilvy on Advertising, and I'd been struck by his persistent emphasis on substantiveness and truthfulness. Not, of course, that he wasn't a master of the subconscious appeal--Ogilvy had invented the Pepperidge Farms horse-drawn cart, created a campaign for Schweppes tonic water based on the dashing life of Commander Whitehead (who owned the company), and produced "The Man in the Hathaway Shirt" campaign, in which distinguished real-life figures, often rich businessmen, appeared in magazine ads wearing both Hathaway shirts and, unforgettably, black eyepatches. Yet advertising, Ogilvy insisted, should convey factual information about the product in question, helping the consumer to understand how he--or, in the case of another couple of famous Ogilvy campaigns, one for Dove soap ("three-quarters cleansing cream"), the other for Ivory ("ninety-nine and forty-four one hundredths percent pure"), she--would use it. "The more you tell," Ogilvy argued, "the more you sell." "Never write an advertisement you wouldn't want your own family to read," he insisted. "You wouldn't tell lies to your own wife. Don't tell them to mine."
As I got to know Ogilvy--there's a long story here, but he and I exhanged letters and telephone calls during his final years, when he lived in the Chateau de Touffou, the French castle he had purchased and restored--I wondered what kind of man he would prove. To what extent, I wondered, would I discover that Ogilvy was, when it came down to it--and in spite of his insistence on substantiveness and truthfulness--simply a particularly gifted huckster? But Ogilvy proved nothing of the kind. He was well-read, urbane, witty, political--he disdained socialists and "those dreadful Bolshies," his term for Communists--and intellectually curious. (He would have loved James Lileks. Just loved him.) For a time, Ogilvy and I discussed whether I ought to pursue a position at Ogilvy & Mather in New York. I finally decided against it, but David Ogilvy persuaded me that--and I know this is wildly politically incorrect, but I believe it all the same--a career in advertising could represent one of the finest routes to the thorough and well-lived life.
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Jun '10
Re: From James Lileks to David Ogilvy
A conversation about advertising, with David Ogilvy, 1977 (55 min.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0kfsnjcUNiw
Jul '10
Re: From James Lileks to David Ogilvy
I met Ogilvy many years ago when he visited the company offices in San Francisco. He was rich in years and honors, but carried them lightly. I think his most famous print ad was for Rolls Royce, the one with the headline that said at a hundred miles an hour the loudest sound you heard was the ticking of the clock on the dashboard. There was a lot of text in that ad and and it was a pleasure to read even if you weren't in the market for a Rolls. He wasn't certain how many rooms were in that castle but he was sure he hadn't been in all of them. The thing in advertising he said he hadn't anticipated was humor, and I don't think he quite approved of it. Now humor in TV advertising is obligatory though seldom funny. It's hard to be funny.
Jun '10
Re: From James Lileks to David Ogilvy
Isn't there an advertising adage that admonishes, Humour doesn't sell?
Jun '10
Re: From James Lileks to David Ogilvy
I think the concern is, too much humor and you overshadow the product. That's the most common defect in Superbowl ads, I think. They're made to impress other advertising professionals with their inventiveness, and the forgettable part is the product.