by Don Potter
Jeff’s parents had to go back to Philadelphia due to a problem at his dad’s business. This did not affect our plans. That night we went to Somers Point for dinner in order to get an early start on our drinking. Jeff slammed down the beers and got drunk pretty fast. I drove us home midway through the evening.
As I helped him through the front door, Jeff turned and kissed me on the lips.
“Why did you do that?” I demanded.
“I wanted to do that for a long time,” he slurred.
“Are you nuts?”
“No, just horny.”
“You queer or what?”
“Don’t you like me?”
“Not in that way. Why did you think I would do such a thing?”
“I was hoping, that’s all.”
“You’re right that’s all. Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again.”
Before the words left my mouth, Jeff stumbled to the bathroom and threw up. I helped him back to his bedroom, careful that he did not try to kiss me again. When I got him on top of his bed, Jeff said,” Aren’t you going to help me get undressed?”
“You’re on your own, pal.” I closed his door, went to my room, and locked the door to keep out any unwelcome visitors. The next day I packed up my clothes and drove back to Pittsburgh with the latest rock and roll hits playing extra loud on the radio to override thoughts about the incident with Jeff.
When I returned to school Jeff was in my classes, but he was not staying at the dorm. Apparently he decided to commute for his final year, which made the situation better for me and I presume for him as well. We remained cordial, but that one incident at the Jersey Shore changed our relationship. I suspected it would be that way forever.
Nothing was more important to me than celebrating my twenty-first birthday. I got really drunk with friends at school and continued partying, albeit more reserved, when I went home the next week for Thanksgiving. Soon after students returned from the long holiday weekend, the campus was hit with an epidemic of the Asian Flu. Fortunately, I did not succumb to it, thanks in part to my resumption of praying during the outbreak; but many in the dorm suffered for weeks or went home until they were fully recuperated.
The Music Man opened in New York. In the movie theaters, Elvis appeared in Loving You and The Bridge on the River Kwai was released. Leave it to Beaver debuted on TV. Jack Kerouac’s book, On the Road, was published amid much fanfare acclaiming him as the voice of the Beat Generation. Russia beat the United States into outer space by sending Sputnik into orbit. And President Eisenhower survived a stroke.
I received a letter from Carlson/Andrews asking me to come in during Christmas vacation but thought this must be some kind of a mix up. I was not going to be interning this coming summer, since I would soon be seeking full-time employment at one of the big Madison Avenue agencies. I made a note to write those letters right after the holidays but was not going to worry about it until then.
I had forgoten about Carlson/Andrews, but they did not forget about me.
9
Ozzie & Harriet becomes a TV hit show. Brooklyn’s Dodgers are moving to Los Angeles. Elvis is inducted into the Army. The US launches its first satellite. The US slides into a recession. Rob has a new job and a new car.
* * *
I was back in Pittsburgh for the Christmas holidays when Carlson/Andrews called me. They were rather secretive and suggested I come in for an immediate appointment. So I called to set up a meeting with the personnel director.
“Mister Fleming, it’s so nice to see you again. I trust you had a pleasant Christmas,” the personnel director said when I was brought to his office.
“I did. It’s always nice to come home.”
“That’s just what we want to discuss with you. Over the past three summers, you have worked in a number of different capacities for us.”
“Yes, thanks to Carlson/Andrews I decided to pursue a career in advertising.”
“As a copywriter?”
“That’s the best way to use my journalism education.”
“We agree and think it would be nice for you to come home to Pittsburgh and Carlson/Andrews after graduation in the spring.”
“I planned to send you a letter of application right after the New Year.” The truth was I had not thought of applying at C/A. Jeff had sold me on the idea of going to New York where the action was, although there was no way I would consider having him for roommate after the Jersey Shore fiasco.
“Mister Erskine found something he likes in the work you did this year and the other departments in which you worked believe you have what it takes to be a Carlson/Andrews man.”
His pitch sounded like he was trying to get me to pledge for a fraternity. I doubted a New York ad agency would paint the picture that way.
“The agency is prepared to offer you $6,200 a year to start as a cub copywriter. Where you go from there is up to you. Are you prepared to accept the position?”
“This comes as a complete surprise to me. I need a little time to consider this opportunity.” I added, “If you don’t mind.”
“Of course, this is a major decision. However, there is only one position open and it will be filled quickly, I’m sure.”
“How soon do you want my answer?” I could not believe they expected to lock this down nearly six months in advance of my graduation.
“We like to plan ahead. You are the first one to receive this offer. If you choose not accept the position within the next two weeks, we will be obliged to move on.”
“I would like to meet with Mister Erskine and find out more about what the job entails.”
“Let me call to see when he might be available,” the personnel director said as he picked up the phone. Few words were spoken. He hung up, and said, “Mister Erskine is able to see you now. Please follow me.”
“I know where his office is.”
“The agency’s policy is not to have non-employees walk the halls of Carlson/Andrews.”
Pete Erskine stood when we entered his office. “Rob, it’s good to see you. Come on in,” Pete said in a more friendly tone than I ever heard from him when he was my direct boss. The personnel director quietly left as Pete and I sat down to talk.
“You have questions about the offer?” he asked.
“Not the offer. The job parameters.”
“Think you can move in here and start writing award-winning ad copy?” Pete went back to his old style.
“I believe I can bring new thinking and new energy to the creative department.”
“Just like that,” Pete snapped his fingers. “You think you can change the entire culture here?”
“Not that quickly.”
He laughed. I continued. “What do you have in mind for me?”
Pete leaned back in the chair, swung his feet up on the desk, placed his hands behind his head and said. “I told the brass you wouldn’t roll over and play dead just because the biggest agency in town offered you a job.”
“No I wasn’t prepared to jump at my first job offer, but I appreciate being considered for the position,” I said in my defense.
“But your eyes are on Madison Avenue. I don’t blame you. If I were in your shoes, I’d probably be thinking the same way. But what do I know? I’m a Pittsburgh boy, just like you. However, that’s where the similarities end. I graduated from Pitt. Went to work in the ad department at US Steel and ended up here writing copy for a bunch of the city’s major industrial companies. Won a few awards along the way, too. Moved up to copy chief two years ago, and at age forty I’m doing pretty well as a big fish in the small pond of Pittsburgh advertising.”
“I enjoyed working with you, Pete.” I did not know what else to say. Congratulating him would have been inappropriate. Maybe saying nothing might have been better.
“My career path probably is not appealing to you. However, we have clients with consumer products divisions and some packaged goods accounts too. They would rather
work with us than some of the slick Madison Avenue types. Just so you know, I intend to build Carlson/Andrews’ creative capabilities so we’ll be able to compete with any agency in the country, including the big boys on Madison Avenue.”
“So where do I fit in?”
“You, my boy, have the opportunity to be on the ground floor of the agency’s renaissance — one that I hope will be as apparent as what’s taking place in the city of Pittsburgh.” He got up from his chair, stretched his arms out wide, and walked to the windows overlooking Gateway Center with the confluence of the three rivers in the background.
“I still don’t know what I’d be doing here.”
“At Carlson/Andrews your work will be seen and recognized, unlike the way those at the bottom of the totem pole are treated in New York.”
He did not answer my question but he made a valid point, so I decided to listen very carefully to his pitch. Besides, he was saying nice things about me and I did not want him to stop. Pete presented a compelling story as he laid out his battle plan for the next several of years. He ended it by saying, “After a couple of years of being in the trenches here, you can always go to New York and show them what you’ve done as opposed to telling them what you think you can do. So what have you got to lose?”
“Sold,” I said with enthusiasm.
“You don’t want to go home and think about it? Maybe talk it over with your father?”
“No. It’s my future and no one elses. I like what you said, and I’m in.” I was as surprised as he was at my response.
“Okay,” he said and picked up the phone and called the personnel director. “Fleming’s on board. And, give him a $2,000 signing bonus so he can get some new clothes and put a down payment on a decent car. We can’t have one of our up and coming creative guys dressing like he’s still in college and driving around in a car that’s almost as old as he is. We’re going to lunch. I’ll drop him off at your office when we get back.”
I walked with Pete toward the older part of the downtown business area where the agency’s offices were located before moving to Gateway Center a year before my first internship at C/A. He spoke about what a great city this was while I pondered the wisdom of making such a hasty decision and jumping at the first job offer to come my way. After a few minutes we arrived at the Duquesne Club, where the city’s business leaders ate. By the time we finished lunch I was so excited about Pete’s plans, I could not remember what I had to eat. Being wanted is truly intoxicating.
I could hardly wait to break the job news to my parents. Mom asked what happened when I got home, but I told her the meeting was good and avoided discussing it further. At dinner that evening I informed them that I was going to be coming back to work in Pittsburgh.
Dad, as anticipated, asked if it might have been better to see what other opportunities might be out there, but saw the wisdom in getting on-the-job experience that could serve as a stepping stone to move up in the ad business, here or in New York. He pointed out that securing a job in the current economy would allow me to concentrate on studies without worrying about what might happen after graduation. He also thought I was in a unique position due to my bout with hyperglycemia because that would probably exempt me from the draft, which meant not having any interruptions early in my career.
Mom thought it would be nice to have me living at home, which I had reservations about. She added, in her Presbyterian way, “All things work out the way they should and being sick might have been a blessing in disguise.”
I was glad to have my life under control and apparently being at the right place at the right time. Now I had to think about getting some new clothes and what kind of car would best suit my new position in the ad biz. But first, it might be nice to find someone to take to the dance at the country club on New Year’s Eve. Since I was going to be moving back to the Burgh, it seemed appropriate to share the news of my becoming an adman with someone of the opposite sex.
Every attractive girl I knew was already going with someone or had a date for the evening. So I reluctantly agreed to sit with my parents at dinner that night and hopefully snag a floater for dancing and a little conversation. I found it hard to believe that Pittsburgh’s newest eligible bachelor was dateless.
After a very nice lobster dinner and before the dancing began, my father introduced me to several club members. He told them of my success at college and about being hired by Carlson/Andrews. It was the first time I ever heard him boast, but he was not bragging about himself it was about me. Having a couple of drinks allowed Dad to demonstrate how proud he was and let me know my decision to come home, at least for now, was right.
When I heard enough of the accolades, I went outside to smoke a cigarette. It was an uncommonly pleasant night for this time of year in Southwestern Pennsylvania. I lit up, took a deep drag and moved to the edge of the veranda to catch a glimpse of the stars.
“Wishing on a star?” a familiar female voice said.
I turned to face Nancy Gates, my ex-squeeze Carol’s friend. Her voice sounded too worldly and far too commanding for me, more so than it did when we met three years ago.
“Well, hello stranger,” I said trying not to appear as awkward as I felt.
“Nice to see you, Rob. I hear you’re finishing up at Penn and snagged a job at Carlson/Andrews after graduation. Congrats are in order.”
“Word travels fast around here.”
“Don’t you remember, I’m the queen of gossip? Both good and bad news finds me, and I’m compelled to evaluate what I hear then pass it on.”
“You were the first to break the news to Carol about Debby being pregnant.”
“At least you were prepared to talk about it when your mother brought it up.”
“How did you know?” I turned red, but there was little light outside so Nancy could not see the embarrassed look on my face.
“The women at the club share all kinds of intimate stories after a drink or two at those ‘hen parties’ commonly referred to as lunch.”
“So what have you been up to?” I asked in an effort to change the subject.
“I’m in my junior year at Northwestern. Like you I’m a journalism student. But unlike you I can’t get in the door at Carlson/Andrews. My father isn’t a client of theirs.”
“Whoa. That’s a low blow.”
“Word is they only take interns connected in some way with the agency. My father works for US Steel and that’s not one of their clients.”
“Go get a job working for US Steel’s ad agency,” I said and began to walk toward the French doors and safety from Nancy’s all too inquiring mind and nasty comments.
“I never saw you angry before. Your eyes sparkle when you get emotional.”
“Thanks. Happy New Year.”
“Don’t be upset, I’m just trying to get some inside help at C/A.”
“I’m not inside yet.” I stepped into the ballroom and closed the door behind me. Nancy deflated my balloon with the notion that my father was responsible for my getting the job at the agency. And if this gossipy little lady had any thoughts about me helping her at the agency, it would be wise if she forgot about it.
I quickly bid my good nights to my parents and their friends and left for the evening. My companion at midnight was James Bond. From Russia With Love was a novel I got for Christmas and seemed like the perfect way to escape. Maybe 007 could provide me with a few tips on how to handle women, something I definitely needed to learn.
My classmates were impressed when I told them about my job at the agency. I probably laid it on a little too thick, but that was done more for me than for them. Seems I was still a bit touchy about the remark Nancy made. Also, Jeff made it a point to tell me how he planned to capture New York City, the world’s center of all advertising, by storm. This was his way of putting me down for starting an advertising career in Pittsburgh. So I had something to prove about my capabilities as well as the impact my hometown could have on the adve
rtising business.
By the time graduation rolled around, I had pushed myself hard enough and long enough to reach the top of my class. As a reward my father matched the money I planned to put into a brand spanking new 1958 Ford Fairlane convertible. Since it was midyear and the country was in the midst of the worst recession in ten years, I was able to get a very good deal. Using my car as a trade-in and paying cash, I drove the red with white trim beauty off the lot for $2,000. Dad’s matching funds meant I did not have to dip into my meager savings for clothes and whatever. Maybe living at home was not that bad after all. Then my folks told me I had to pay room and board. It was only $100 a month, so I was way ahead of the game. Now it was time to go to work.
10
The Kingston Trio warns Tom Dooley to hang down his head. The Coasters have lots of success featuring the yackity sax on their records. American Express and Visa credit cards hit the market. And Rob heads out for his first day as a professional adman.
* * *
The day was not going exactly to plan, my plan. I intended to drive to work in my new car with the top down so everyone could admire this handsome young adman en route to conquer the advertising world. But it rained hard, the top was up, and thus the world was denied a unique memory. I was wearing my new cord suit, though, and eager to make waves. I had just settled into my appointed cubicle when Ed Gardner appeared.
“Nice closet ya got here,” Ed said.