A Winter 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, 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.