A tale of two letters

One I never exploited - the other changed my life.

The other day I wrote about my time at Papert, Koenig & Lois.

Some of my colleagues were eccentric - as was their approach to business and the way they were set up.

PKL was nowhere near as successful as it should have been, given the number of talented people there.

A joke was told in advertising circles about the differences between the various well known agencies.

The joke went that if you called some of the big agencies you would get these replies:

“Good afternoon, J Walter Thompson.”

A more friendly agency might respond: “Young & Rubicam, how can I help you?”

But if you called PKL you would be greeted with “PKL, fuck off.”

They really were cavalier towards their clients.

One big firm never ran an ad for months because the agency refused to change their recommendation.

On top of all this if you want a good a recipe for trouble, put two people in charge of a business who are opposite in every way.

Joe Sacco and Sir Nigel Sealy were like night and day.

A strong-willed, hard-drinking, excitable Italian-American who knew advertising back to front, and a very proper English gentleman who didn't.

Joe was intensely proud of his Sicilian heritage. He once said to me “Last night I dreamt that you were like my native village in Sicily, full of small plateaus and sudden unexpected declivities.”

A declivity is a sudden drop - something my life has been full of.

There was a lot of internal warfare, as there often is when people are ambitious and competitive.

Eventually the day came for me to be fired. I had no idea and Joe took me out to lunch. He offered me a drink and I said “I’ll have a glass of Sauvignon.”

He said, “Have a real drink, have a Stinger.”

A Stinger was a concoction of Creme de Menthe and Brandy and it had a rather explosive effect.

He told me of the impending separation.

At the time Peter Mayle, whom I didn’t know very well but admired greatly, told me to get in touch with David Ogilvy with whom he had worked.

Peter told me a story of Ogilvy showing him a commercial idea and asking his opinion.

Peter was critical, to which Ogilvy, annoyed, replied “You never could have said something as perceptive if you hadn’t been working for me for a while.”

Anyhow, I wrote David Ogilvy a letter.

It began “You have never heard of me, but I have a quality I know you prize. I can make people buy things.”

It got an immediate reply with an offer of an interview.

I didn’t go to the interview, as I had children in England and didn’t want to leave them behind.

However, years later I wrote another letter, not to Ogilvy but about him.

Someone had been very critical of him in the advertising magazine Campaign, suggesting he was past it. I wrote a response saying the man wasn’t fit to tie Ogilvy’s laces.

The next day Ogilvy rang to thank me, and the day after that the chairman of Ogilvy & Mather in Europe invited me to lunch.

Eventually I sold my business to them for a lot of money. In fact the letter changed my life.

Since then I've written quite a few more.

I can't recall one that failed, to be honest.

If you’d like one that will get results for you, get in touch.

It won't be cheap. But when you consider what a letter can do, it’s a bargain.

Best,

Drayton

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