There's Nobody Like a Guinness

There’s a neo-classical country house set in a large park at the western side of Welwyn Garden City in Hertfordshire, England. It was known as ‘Watershyppes’ until 1439 when the house was rebuilt and renamed by the Brockets, one of Hertfordshire’s leading families. Brocket Hall was later sold to brewery heir Sir Charles Nall-Cain, and he took the name Brocket from the Hall establishing himself as the First Lord Brocket in 1933. Two years later Sir Charles died and his son Arthur Ronald Nall-Cain became the 2nd Lord Brocket. Arthur turned out to be a Nazi sympathizer and when interned in 1939 his property was handed over to the War Office and Brocket Hall became a maternity hospital run by the Red Cross. Over 8,000 babies were born there – including Kenneth Ruocco, on October 29th, 1940, whose mother had been sent there to avoid the bombing of London.

By 1960, the threat of the draft for teenagers throughout Britain had long since vanished, and in London, Ken was jack-the-lad as he slipped into his twenties. It was the beginning of the liberation of English youth as this new post-war generation began to explore their own agenda. In search of a passion, an identity, and a dream, this was the time of Jackie Collins, Vidal Sassoon, mini-skirts, and Johnny & The Moondogs – who would later become the poster boys for a revolution more commonly known as The Beatles. Young people were viewed as anti-establishment simply because of their taste in fashion and music, and practically every kid was looking to break the mold in one way or another. Ultimately, it ignited the pop art and celebrity age that exemplifies the Sixties. As a Baby Boomer, Ken was coming into his own while his fellow Brits were demanding that their appetites, expectations, and rights receive some consideration. At that age, at that time, you didn’t necessarily plan your life, you could invent it, and Ken had his own history to make.

The ’74 British Perfumery Symposium was being held at The Grosvener Hotel in London and all of the fragrance houses, their Perfumers, and their customers were in attendance. By this time Ken had been a Perfumer with Dutch company Narden for nearly fourteen years. On that first day of the symposium, a flashy American gent approached Ken, ‘Where the hell can a guy get a drink around here?’ Hailing from Covent Garden, Ken has a charismatic personality to counter his small frame and distinguished grey mustache. Speaking with a proud Cockney accent - sounding more like the flower seller in “My Fair Lady” than Dick Van Dyke’s butchered version as a chimney sweep in Disney’s “Mary Poppins,” Ken told him, ?‘You don, wanna get a drink in ‘ere, it’ll cost a fortune. I’m goin’ ‘roun a pub for a pint. Come ‘roun with me.’ Ken orders his signature Guinness, and the American settles for a Gin & Tonic in lieu of a Manhattan.Returning to the Grosvener, they run into Ken’s boss in the lobby asking him, ‘How do you know Dr. Anderson?’ Ken admits, ‘Well, I don’t know him. We just went ‘roun the pub for a pint.’ Four days later, Dr. Anderson discreetly asked Ken if he would consider coming to Hollywood. The American gent happened to be the Corporate Vice President of Max Factor. Without hesitation, Ken accepted the offer providing he could bring his right-hand-driving Daimler with him and that there was a pub serving Guinness within a reasonable distance to the office. Yes to both, he moved to the San Fernando Valley just outside LA. Three years in, Ken had his fill of Hollywood when he was approached by Mr. Pieter van Houten of Firmenich in New York City. Ken went to see his boss Sam Kalish who advised, ‘Don’t go to there. It’s a shit company! You’ll be out of a job in a year. Your future belongs here.”

Entrenched in the fragrance business, Firmenich made Ken a Perfumer in their North American Perfumery offices on prestigious Fifth Avenue. Shortly thereafter he was relocated to the suburban campus in Princeton (Plainsboro) where Sue Leake was assigned to be his lab assistant. The chemistry was instantly more than just in the formulations. Taking on his biggest challenge at an age when most people would tell him he was making a mistake, Ken started a new life with Sue as his wife and olfactive partner. His philosophy is a simple one in that stress reduction is vital to a working environment. All you need is a really good manager who can see your plusses and minuses and can actually make your job enjoyable. Adding that, “Perfumery can be a very stressful job if you let it take you over. Like any other job, it’s particularly difficult if you can’t be consistently successful.” As an exercise in lightening the load, Ken’s ‘nickname’ list had become a mythological uncirculated document within Firmenich. From the CEO to the janitor, this was his original way to make the job a little more fun, reduce the stress level, and to personalize people. “That’s it,’ he said, ‘it has nothing to do with the amount of perfumes I’ve made, it’s all about the people.”

Those awarded a nickname by Ken were honored as if knighted into a secret society. Starting with himself, Ken is eternally referred to by his chosen brand name, “Guinness.” Nobody ever challenged their given nickname, as they really had no say in the matter. Truth is, no one was ever offended or disappointed. “You can’t think about it. Either it is or it isn’t,” he would tell each recipient. Eventually it became such a state in Perfumery, that colleagues who didn’t have nicknames were the disappointed ones. His dear friend and Master Perfumer, Annie Buzantian, had bashed up her car pretty bad and someone suggested that he should give her the nickname “Crash.” Guinness exclaimed, “No! We can’t have that! We can’t have anything with negative undertones,” and explained to Annie how she was one of the people who didn’t need a nickname. “Annie is Annie, and you always will be the same way,” he told her. “But does that have enough value the way a nickname does?,” she asked.? He assured her that it most certainly did for the very simple reason that everyone already knew it. Annie was her name and her nickname one and the same. The same way Alice was Alice and Steven was Steven.

When I auditioned for the position of Creative Marketing Manager in 1999, the first person to enter the Media Room as one of the judges on the panel took the first seat to my immediate left. I welcomed him and introduced myself, and in turn he introduced himself as “E.T.” without any further explanation. Once I started the job, of course I quickly learned that his real name was Etienne Bouckaert, a 6’4” expat Perfumer given a nickname that supposedly embodied the ‘Eifel Tower’ and all it stood for. As part of my orientation, I had to meet with many of the Perfumers in those first few weeks, including both E.T., Annie, and Ken, who immediately corrected his name for me. Guinness and I connected as we shared the common bond of having each spent three years perfecting our crafts in LA before migrating to NYC and, without hesitation, gave me my official nickname monogram, “P.T.” Once more asking myself, too circusy?

Whether it stood for Barnum, Pacific Time, or even Perfumery Trends, was irrelevant, but when I told Alice, she was impressed that Guinness had bestowed such an honor to me on our first meeting. This was unprecedented, even if he was the only one that ever called me by it. To this day, I’m the only one in Flavors with an authentic Guinness nickname, and sadly, except for E.T., Formula One, and Pit Stop, I’m not sure just how many are still with the company. BeepBeep ultimately became Chairman of the Board, and his brother, BoomBoom remained on the family’s executive committee for years. Traffic Lights and Black Socks have long since retired, as did Visa.

Moo-Moo once asked, “How the hell can you give the CEO of the company a nickname?” Guinness told him, “He came and asked me what his nickname was, so I told him ‘French Fries.’ When he asked why, I told him ‘because you look so crispy and well done.” French Fries was thrilled. Guinness reveled in the unusualness of it. “Years ago that would’ve been seen as impertinent, but you’ve got to move with the times from the start. You’ve got no license until he gives you the license. Same even with a stranger.” The coveted list of nicknamed cohorts became several pages long over Guinness’s illustrious thirty-eight year career with Firmenich, and I’m honored to have made the grade. After 64 years in the business, Guinness may have retired professionally in 2006, but many of his career successes, including those for Estée Lauder and Gillette, are still on the market and are going as strong as he is. He advised me, “P.T., there’s an old saying, ‘Don’t weaken. It’s a killer.” Over the years, Guinness has remained a friend and confident, even supporting my decision to leave Perfumery for Flavors. As a retirement gift, his was the first portrait I did of someone who wasn’t a comedian or musician, but is truly a unique and creative character in every sense. My criteria for doing celebrity portraits was that I would only do them of artists I was truly a fan of and left an impression on me. Guinness was no exception.