Damn. Damn. Dan.

I didn’t know Dan as well as many people who worked at Wieden & Kennedy. Understandably, at least in the 7 years I was there, he was way more familiar to creatives, producers, and to the account people who worked on Nike vs. those of us who, like me, worked on other (non-Nike) clients.

We certainly knew each other – when I started there were just over 100 people working at the agency – and because I came in under the wing of the much-loved and respected Tom Blessington and was a champion of great work, I fell into Dan’s good graces relatively early on in my tenure there.

Then as the agency grew (and as we attempted to embrace this crazy and disruptive new discipline of “brand planning”), Dan hand-picked me as part of a small group to participate in some organizational design work, figure out how to make us work better together, which was extremely cool, and gave me insight into the working minds of these new thinking thinkers.

Like the experience my friend Jae Goodman had, I was fortunate enough that Dan invited me to “help” teach an advertising class at the U of O one year (although I don’t recall I did much of the teaching).

I flew to NYC with him and just a couple others to “save” ESPN when our Philadelphia office closed. What a memorable trip that was, as were the years that followed running that incredible account.

And I traveled to Atlanta with him to attend a few of the Olympic events because Coke was a hometown sponsor. I was leading the Coke business at the time, and we were producing work to support their various sport sponsorships around the globe (we did 5 campaigns for the Atlanta Olympics alone).

But on my last day there, before leaving the agency to join my former Coca-Cola client at an incredibly exciting role running global advertising for adidas based in Amsterdam, Wieden took me to lunch and on the way back told me, “I can never speak to you again.”

(pause. jaw drop. shit.)

“Nike built this agency, and although you never worked on that account, everything you did here you were allowed to do because of Nike.” I remember being dismayed by what he’d said, sad to lose the relationship, but also incredulous at the level and depth of loyalty that te man had for his clients.

So as I read all the beautiful and heartfelt recounting of the many memorable moments people shared with Dan over the years, I can’t help but think of my absolute favorite moment with him. It also speaks of his extreme loyalty.

I may not have many stories, but this one lives with me almost daily.

Back in the 90s, before the Oregon Tourism Department become the public/private Travel Oregon, we had to pitch the account every two years. We’d win, develop one campaign, and then have to ramp up to pitch again. For an account that we lost a lot of money on (while they did pay us a monthly fee, it wasn’t nearly enough to cover the cost of the time we spent on the business), it was a ton of work to pitch. And it was also somewhat demoralizing to the team – although everyone knew it was a contractual mandate, and the work we were doing was off the charts great, it still left people wondering, “Why do we have to pitch? Do they not like us?”

So it was challenging to get people in the agency (across all departments, but especially creatives) to pay attention to the account when the siren call of Beaverton and the promise of working with Jordan or Tiger or Agassi or Bo was so great – we were incredibly lucky over the years to have unbelievable talent like Steve Sandoz, Rick McQuiston, Teresa Elliott, Evelyn Neill, Tim Hanrahan, John Boiler and Glenn Cole assigned to the business, but it was always a struggle to get the team engaged.

After having led two successful pitches defending the account, on my third I decided to bring everyone who even touched the business into the main conference room – including not just creatives but also media and accounting – and walked through a big speech about what we needed to do to retain it. I must’ve practiced it several times, and had all kinds of visuals on the walls of work we’d done, creative done by our competitors, magazines we were considering, etc., etc. It had been a ton of work, as I wanted to impress Dan and David Kennedy, both of whom would be in attendance.

I went through my spiel, probably talked for 45 minutes or so, laboriously covering the minutiae of the account in an effort to get everyone to understand the business. And when I finished, I look over at Dan and Dave and said, “Anything you guys want to add?”

Which is when Dan uttered those prophetic words that people who work on that account STILL live with to this day…

“If we lose this account, heads will roll and blood will fly.”

The room was silent, taking it in, realizing how serious he was. His passion was undeniable - and understandable.

Having grown up in the state, he and his partner David Kennedy had birthed and grown their business there, and they’d been able to draw unbelievably talented people who were helping grow this incredibly creative agency miles away from the ad world petri dishes of New York City, or Chicago.

The two men felt they owed the state for all it had given them, and as a result, even though the revenue from the account was 0.0001% of total agency revenue (I may be exaggerating to make the point, but I’m not that far off), they paid very close attention to all the work produced on behalf of their baby.

When he was done talking, he turned to Kennedy, and from out of nowhere and without saying a word, Kennedy pulled this gigantic box, and opened it up, revealing t-shirts he’d had made for the occasion – dark blue, with the state seal on one side and the beaver on the other, replicating the unique Oregon state flag.

I remember looking at both of them and thinking – maybe even saying it out loud, although I don’t recall if I did nor not – “Why the F*CK didn’t you say that in the first place and save me and all these people the 45 minutes I just spent?”

Things changed on the account after that. People were more committed. It wasn’t like pulling teeth to get them to pay attention, to re-work some copy, or re-do a media plan. It was like they understood that they were holding on to something special. It was Dan and David’s baby, and I’ll be damned if any of us were going to drop it.

Of course, the agency retained the account that year, and it remains there to this day. I expect it won’t ever leave. That’s my favorite Dan story.

The lesson for me? Like so many other memories from those years, the situation pointed out that what we were doing wasn’t about money, and wasn’t about awards (the agency famously didn’t display its many awards, instead storing them in filing cabinets throughout the office – “You don’t WIN awards, you EARN awards for doing great work.”).

It was always about the work. It was about doing something and fighting for something we believed in. It was about working with people you’d get to know so closely and trust so completely that they became part of you – and you of them. And it was about loyalty.

I was lucky. My story with Dan didn’t end that day on the steps of 320 SW Washington. Thanks in large part to Angie Vieira Barocas, Dan and I reconciled a few years later, shortly after I left adidas. And I got one of his trademark hugs in the middle of the NY office, all “betrayal” forgotten, he just wanted to catch up and hear what and how I was doing.

My heart breaks for those who were so close to him and his family, and I genuinely hope that there will be an opportunity for us all to come together soon to celebrate the life of that great man, along with Dave and Rick, both of whom passed away last year.

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In case you're interested, I’ve written some other articles about my time and experiences at W&K. Links are below. Hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

The Importance of Lateral Leadership, and Lessons from a Secret Project. (the project Wieden never knew about - we think)

Underappreciated, until you need them. Well guess what, ad agencies? YOU NEED THEM. (W&K's best-kept secret was actually its account people)

I have someone to thank. (my origin story, how I landed at W&K)