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, our clients began putting more power back in our hands.
Ad Age magazine ran a front-page feature on the new face of Leo Burnett, actually using the headline “Agency Renaissance.” There was only one mention of me in the article and they got my name wrong, John Jacobson, but I didn’t care. It made Mr. Ferrell look good, and making your boss look good is good for job security.
Besides, the idea was his, not mine. What Mr. Ferrell had dreamed about, a creative renaissance, was actually coming true. With all the success and accolades, I shouldn’t have been surprised when, with the holidays approaching, everything changed.
CHAPTER
Twenty-seven
Things are going well, which, of course, means it’s time for change.
Fate abhors nothing so much as contentment.
Joseph Jacobson’s Diary
The day before Thanksgiving, Charlene buzzed me in my office. “J.J., Mr. Ferrell would like to meet with you.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. Immediately.”
“Tell him I’ll be right in.”
Charlene smiled as I approached her desk. “He’s waiting.”
“Thanks.”
Mr. Ferrell was sitting at his desk. In front of him was a bottle of Dom Perignon and two long-stemmed crystal champagne glasses.
“What can I do for you, sir?” I asked.
“Have a seat, Joe.” (Mr. Ferrell was the only one at the firm who I allowed to call me Joe. He told me to call him George, but I never felt comfortable with it.) I sat down in the leather chair facing his desk.
“Are you ready for Thanksgiving?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s easy. I’m spending it alone.”
“Sounds refreshingly simple. We’ve got all of Peggy’s family coming over. Maybe I’ll join you.”
“Let me know,” I said. “I’ll pick up another Hungry-Man frozen dinner.”
He smiled, then his demeanor turned more serious. “I need to tell you something.” He leaned back in his chair. “Last night I received a phone call from Don Shelton. Do you know who that is?”
“No, sir.”
“Don’s the Chairman of the Board for Leo Burnett. He gave me some news that I’d like to share with you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“First the good news. The rumors you’ve heard milling about the energy rooms are true. I’ve been promoted to CEO of Leo Burnett Worldwide.”
“That’s fantastic news,” I said. “You deserve it.”
“Thank you,” he said, downplaying my excitement. “Now the bad news.”