Mike, published.

In 1981, I moved from a small town in Alabama to Charlotte, NC.  And I went from a high school of maybe 400 people total to a senior class of 785. I didn't know a soul in Charlotte. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to leave my friends behind and basically start over my final year in high school.

I remember showing up the first day of classes and feeling completely overwhelmed, lost and angry. I looked at every day as an endurance test - how could I make it through and just go home? I absolutely hated it.

Then one day, I met Russell Clary. I'm not sure if I met him in a class or in the cafeteria, but he changed my final year of high school. Russell took me under his wing and began introducing me to his friends. And he had a lot of friends. In fact, he seemed to know everyone. And everyone knew Russell. And to this day, I've never heard anyone say a bad word about him. Which didn't hurt as he was helping me with the friend-making process.

I might also mention that Russell was a great athlete - a starting offensive guard on the soon-to-be state championship football team. A team that went 14-0 and completely dominated everyone they played that year. And that didn't hurt either as Russell was helping me make friends.

That year turned out to be the best of my high school career. I made more friends in those nine months than I'd made in the previous three years. Through Russell, I met many of the people who to this day remain my dear friends.

After graduation, we all went our separate ways. I to UNC-Chapel Hill and Russell to four years at The Citadel in Charleston. We didn't keep in touch much during those years. We were finding ourselves and living in our own worlds. I heard from time to time things about Russell - that he was back in Charlotte in the insurance business. But we really didn't talk and (without the benefit of the Internet or Facebook or email back then) we just became disconnected.

I didn't see him at our 10 year reunion, or our 20 year reunion. But three years ago, I heard from friends that Russell had been diagnosed with ALS - Lou Gehrig's Disease. And that a group of South Meck grads were gathering in Charlotte to walk for him and raise money to help find a cure.

In 2010, I drove down and saw many of my old classmates, and reconnected with lots of people. I also saw Russell for the first time since 1982. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and although he was having trouble walking, he shook my hand, gave me a hug, and told me how happy and appreciative he was that I'd made it. I wasn't able to do the walk in 2011 because of an out of town business trip, but I monitored Russell through out network of friends and made a donation to the ALS foundation.

Which brings me to this weekend. April 27-29, 2012. I'm here along with 100+ other South Mecklenburg High grads for our 30th reunion. And the planners of the weekend had the foresight and inspiration to schedule it on the same weekend as Russell's walk.

This morning at 9:00 AM, we all gathered at Independence Park wearing our Team Clary shirts, greeted each other with hugs and a few tears, and gathered around Russell once more for our annual team photo. I was able to get a few seconds with him, and although he's lost the use of his arms and hands, is confined to a wheelchair and has difficulty speaking clearly, once again his eyes lit up when he saw me, and he tried as best he could to tell me how much he appreciated me coming to the walk. And when he threw his head back and laughed, the old Russell was still there, with a wicked sense of humor and a smile for everyone.

I'm proud to say Team Clary won "most walkers" for the third year in a row - 125. And our team raised over $16,000 for ALS research. But the thing I'm most proud of is that 30 years later, many of us are willing to stop what we're doing in our lives and take a couple of days to honor Russell.

Tonight we'll gather for our "formal" reunion dinner. And I hope Russell will have the energy to be there. He is enrolled in a clinical study that doctors are hopeful will extend the lives of ALS patients, but none of us know for sure how much longer we'll have him in our lives. I for one, cherish every minute.

It's been a tradition every time we get together to paint the rock in front of the high school. For the past few times we've been here, we've painted it in honor of Russell. Today was no different. And as I get ready to head over to the restaurant, my thoughts turn to the guy who befriended me those 30+ years ago. A guy who simply took the time and made the effort to help me out. A guy who really didn't have anything to gain by being my friend. Tonight, as I get a chance to reconnect with my classmates, I'll think of the man who connected me in the first place, and made such a huge difference in my life. Thank you, Russell.

 

 

I can't remember the first time I heard The Band. I think maybe I caught The Last Waltz on some late night channel in my youth. At the time, I really didn't know who they were. I do remember being amazed at Robbie Robertson's playing. And the sad, mournful singing of Danko and Manuel.

But what always stood out to me was The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down, sung by a drummer named Levon Helm. Having been born and raised in the American South - Alabama to be exact, I'm very familiar with the Civil War. There were and probably still are many ghosts roaming around the fields and woods of North Alabama. But I'd never quite heard the Civil War...sung...the way Levon sang it. It chilled me to my soul and still does to this day.

At least 2-3 times a year, I'll either play Waltz all the way through on CD or on TV, and I'm always captivated by the artisty and skill of the songwriting and playing. And while Robbie Robertson was the chief songwriter and most visible face of the band, I believe it was Levon who brought the grittiness and realness to it - with his presence behind the kit - sparse drumming yet so solid and so dead on.

And his voice. If texture and lines and wrinkles and pain and hardship and tears could be caught in a bottle, it would sound like Levon Helm when it was opened.

Today at lunch, I was given a tour of the Southern Folklife Collection on the UNC campus. It was a nice respite from the world of advertising - at least for an hour or two. I was blown away by the sheer volume of archival music they have. I saw the collection of Mike Seeger, which had recently been donated. I reels and reels of the original film from Ken Burns' documentaries Baseball and The Civil War. I saw tens of thousands of LPs, 78s, 45s, cassettes, 8-tracks, wire recordings, and even original wax cylinders from Edison's era. All created just to capture sound. Music. Soul.

It struck me tonight as I was reading all the online rememberances about Levon, that at the very same time I was deep in the stacks at Wilson Library marvelling at the music and reading titles of albums and just trying to take it all in, he passed away. Another good one, as my grandparents used to say, who "got away from us."

I'm at the age where these things, these odd coincidental events, always give me pause to stop and consider what a gift music is. Not just to those able to make it, but to those of us fortunate to hear it and let it touch our souls. And the fact that a place like the Folklife Collection is going to extraordinary lengths and costs to preserve this music is something that will stick with me forever.

I'm glad I was where I was when Levon left us. Surrounded by music much like he was surrounded by friends and family.

When I got in the car to drive back to work, I put The Last Waltz on, dialed up Ophelia and just sat in the parking deck and listened.

And I hope that wherever Levon is tonight, he heard it, too.

A note: this is going to probably piss a lot of advertising people in the Triangle area off, so I'll just forewarn you.

Last week, I attended the annual AAF-RDU ADDY Awards in Raleigh. Kudos to Shay Foley and her committee who put on a great event. Cirque du Soleil-like acts, great decorations and music, fun night.

I wish the actual work in the show would have been half as good as the gala.

Maybe it's a sign of my age or years in this business, but I've come to believe that award shows - especially local shows like this - are the main culprits behind the mediocrity in most of the work. (And don't get me wrong, I lump myself and my agency into that criticism, too.)

What's happened to fresh, original thinking?  What's happened to that "wow" feeling I get when I see something in CA or The One Show that is just...completely differerent and unexpected and delivered with copy and graphics that I've never seen before.

It's the kind of stuff I really wish I'd done. And I can say that about very little I saw last Friday night in Dorton Arena.

What the hell has happened? Is it because we have mainly local and regional accounts that we're thinking on that scale?

Does anyone still open a national or international award book and compare their work to the stuff in it?

I saw creatives clutching their ADDY awards with expressions on their faces like they'd just won an Academy Award. Seriously?

If this is the bar we've set, we're doomed.

A few years ago (far too many years ago, in my opinion), McKinney entered our local show.  And they usually dominated it.  Maybe they got tired of winning - I don't know. But I wish they'd start entering it again if for no other reason than to kick all our asses and light a fire under us and make us strive to do something better. Much better. More risk-taking. More engaging. More strategically sound and creatively daring.

Have we all fallen under the spell of social media to the point where nobody can come up with a big idea anymore?  Are we tweeting and posting instead of actually thinking? Or are we simply judging our creativity based on our clients' level of happiness with the work we do?

I don't know the answer. But if we continue, we'll vanilla ourselves out of jobs. And existence.

 

A couple of months ago, I had the great pleasure of having Stevie Archer, one of the first interns I hired at RBW (and later hired full time), as a guest speaker in my UNC copy and communication class. I'd tried to follow Stevie's career as she went from RBW to Mullen to now McKinney.  And I have totally enjoyed watching her become the star I always knew she'd be. Stevie was the first and only intern I've ever hired to have actually produced a TV spot - she wrote a fantastic :60 spot for Duke Orthopaedics that Raymond Bark shot. It's beautiful film. I knew she was a great writer and always had a insatiable curiosity to just...create.

But I was floored by what she showed the class - just stuff she'd done in the "spare" time you have when you work at McKinney.  (McKinney, by the way, is a lot more than an agency. They encourage their employees to spend their spare time just thinking of cool stuff - different ways to be creative that have nothing necessarily to do with advertising. And if they like the ideas, McKinney helps get them produced.)

So, Stevie showed a couple of ideas that she and her friends had not only thought of, but actually produced. The first is this: http://twerribletowel.com. 

It's the first Twitter powered NFL fan towel, a thingamajig they thought up and rigged up with an old fan motor and a Steeler Terrible Towel. You tweet with the hashtag #steelernation and the motor turns, waving the towel. It got so popular so fast that the NFL wanted to use it for the other teams. Again, nothing necessarily to do with advertising, just a cool ideas for using social media for something completely unexpected.

Another site Stevie created is this: http://www.iwasthecoolestkidever.com. 

It's just a site where people can post photos of themselves as kids being cool. Nothing fancy, just fun. It's gotten so popular that she's actually been able to sell ad space (albeit small) on the site. At least it covers the hosting fee.

And here's a more recent site she worked on: http://poorbabies.tumblr.com. Its a site where you can post photos and report young children being humiliated in various ways including being forced to wear unfortunate clothes and do unfortunate things for their parents' amusement.

My point is, Stevie is doing what creatives should be doing: being creative ALL THE TIME. Not just between 9 and 5.  She's one of the rare members of her generation who doesn't sit around twiddling their thumbs when they don't have real work to do. They refuse to let their minds sit on idle. They are always thinking. Always.

Stevie's presentation to my class not only thrilled me, it inspired me and lit a fire under me at the same time. As I get older in this business, I find myself looking forward to getting away from it one day. And I hope I'll have a great retirement and not miss advertising. But her presentation reminded me that we're in the business of ideas - not ads - ideas. And that we have a gift to create stuff that nobody's ever seen before, and do it on a daily basis if we choose. And that should never be a burden or a job or a task. It should be embraced, celebrated, relished and practiced as much as humanly possible.

So thanks, Stevie, for reminding me why I got into this business in the first place.

Follow more of her creative adventures at http://twitter.com/#!/girlnamedstevie.

I heard the news today that R.E.M. had decided to call it a day.  I came over some random XM radio channel as I was driving through the North Carolina mountains and I had to pull over at the next exit just to gather myself.  I really did feel like I was punched in the stomach.

They have been off the radar for most of us for a while - and certainly don't mean much if anything to the 20-somethings of today.  But for me, R.E.M. supplied the soundtrack to my college life and probably ten years beyond.

I can't remember who played it for me, but when I heard "Chronic Town" for the first time, it was like somebody had wiped away the musical grime of the late 70s and I was seeing and hearing the future of music for the first time.  It was like taking a shower and washing off the residue of Styx and Foreigner and...you name the band.

I'd never heard anything like it. It was simultaneously addictive and mysterious.  Catchy, poppy and sublime.

Some people didn't get it. Hell, I didn't really get it. But I listened. And kept listening. And kept buying every bootleg record I could get my hands on. And between 82 and 88 I bet I saw them live 20 times at least. I became a groupie of sorts.

Yes, they had some duds, but I never ceased to wonder at how they consistenly reinvented their sound and always gave us something new on every record.

The last time I saw them live, in Raleigh a few years back, Bill Berry made a surprise appearance and it was one of the most electifying concert moments I've ever witnessed. There was a young couple sitting next to us and remember leaning over and yelling, "It's Bill Berry! The original drummer!" They just looked at me with a puzzled expression. No idea what I was talking about.  But then they turned away, listened and big smiles broke out on their faces. Simply because of the music and the moment.

You didn't have to understand R.E.M. to get R.E.M. And that is the legacy they'll leave behind.

 

 

 

If there are three things I'm really passionate about (other than my family), they're music, great design and trying to give back when I can. That's what makes the Yellow Bird Project so cool. It's a Montreal-based organization that lets Indie bands design their own tee shirts, and when you buy one, a contribution to the band's chosen charity is made. Great idea. Very cool designs. They even have their own theme song, written by The Tallest Man On Earth:

 

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So, after 25+ years of steady agency employment and going on two full years of a successful freelance business, I've decided to stick my toe (very gingerly) into the interviewing pool again, and I'm not really liking the temperature. "What digital experience do you have?"  "Have you written a lot for social media sites?"  "How many websites have you done?"  "Do you understand coding?" Now, don't get me wrong, I know how very important the digital platform is to engagement. And yes, I've written everything from Facebook content to microsites to display banners. But there I sit in interview after interview, with my own website full of years and years of great IDEAS - TV, print, radio, outdoor, non-traditional, and yes, digital work - and nobody seems to be paying attention to the fact that I can actually think and create and have big ideas.  They're more interested in whether I know how to supply write blog copy and understand SEO.  Very frustrating.  What happened to creative directors who are hired to lead, inspire and teach?  There have been shops I've talked to that really do get it - that look at me for my creative and leadership abilities, and I really appreciate it.  But there are others that are completely blinded by the whole digital thing and see it as the be-all-end-all instead of simply another effective tool, another great touchpoint, for consumer engagement.  Social is a great way to tell a story and have a conversation with your audience. But so is a well-written print ad or an engaging TV or radio spot. And no matter how advanced we get with our communication toolbox, the ability to write and tell a story will never be a thing of the past. So (with all due respect and love to my sweet wife and kids), maybe I'll just stay "single" when it comes to rejoining an agency. We'll see.

The most powerful element in advertising is the truth." - Bill Bernbach

It was totally off my radar, but on August 13th, 2011, Bill Bernbach would have been 100 years old. Who is Bill Bernbach, you ask?  Well, if you're in advertising (especially if you're a writer), you take a knee at the mere mention of his name.  He would be on the Mount Rushmore of advertising if there were such a thing.

If you're not in advertising, you can still thank him for helping making the ads you read and the TV commericals you watch more informative, thought provoking, entertaining and much, much smarter. He never talked down to his consumer audience. He treated them with respect and never like they were not the "lowest common denominator."

And he wrote beautiful copy.  Just read the original Volkswagen campaign and you'll see what I mean. "Lemon." "Think small." And the list goes on and on.

My Facebook friend Patrick Scullin has a very nice tribute on his blog: http://blog.asoy.com/2011/remembering-bill

I teach my students at UNC that writing copy doesn't have to be scientific and formulaic and just a bunch of marketing points strung together.  It can be powerful and inspiring and intelligent and may actually sell something.

The craft of copywriting may be a dying art, but every time I read something Bernbach wrote, it restores my faith.

If I could be 1/100th of the thinker and writer Bill Bernbach was, I'd be happy.  And probably rich.  But he's given all us creative writer types something to aim for.

Thanks, Bill.

I worked with a great art director (Steve Davis) on these ads for Doctor's Vision Centers, a chain of eyecare centers around North Carolina.  Beautiful photography courtesy of Bruce DeBoer. Created through Sinclair Advertising. Maybe one day the campaign will see the light of day!

For the first time since I've had an email account (over 11 years), I've been hacked. And used to spam every one of the friends I have in my online address book. So, sorry. I fixed it. But as I woke up this morning to discover the breach, I've also been thinking a lot about the stalemate in Washington over the budget, the Republican Party in NC trying to redraw the districts to suit their own needs, and Amy Winehouse dying yesterday. I guess I really don't have much of a problem, do I? Gonna be a nice Sunday here. Hot but nice. Heading off to the cooler climbs of Wisconsin in a couple of days. 20 hours in a car doesn't really appeal to me, but we do it every year and it's always fun once we get to Cincinnati and then to Door County.