Advertising: The Mammoth Mirror

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Whatever their approach, truly original ads are so few that they are quickly copied. The bulk of menthol cigarette ads—a boy, a girl (shoeless) and a babbling brook—are virtually indistinguishable. Often, too. the less expensive or distinctive a product is, the more pretentiously it is advertised—which leads admen to argue whether it is good salesmanship to make a snob appeal for a non-snob product. The most notable voice raised in opposition is that of Fairfax Cone of Chicago's Foote, Cone & Belding agency, who argues that an ad should come as close as possible to saying what a personal salesman would say. "Whoever heard of smoking a cigarette while you're water skiing?" he asks dryly. "Or pouring motor oil into a champagne glass?"

Any Number Can Win. One reason for such debate within advertising circles is that admen themselves are not all pressed out by the same cooky cutter, as can be seen in the personal histories of the twelve men on the cover (see box, pp. 92 and 93). Grey flannel was never a uniform on Madison Avenue, and Brooks Brothers suits are not the style in the .flourishing advertising communities of Chicago and St. Louis. More top admen than not come from lower-middle-class families and never saw the inside of an Ivy League college. But any generalization about them is riddled with exceptions. The chairman of the nation's hardest-selling agency, Rosser Reeves of Ted Bates & Co., is a chess expert who. while acting as manager of the U.S. chess team visiting Russia seven years ago, charmed an audience of Muscovites by delivering an engaging speech on international competition and peace. Fast-rising William Bernbach never takes work home (he does not even own a briefcase), and is one of the few U.S. company presidents who choose to live in Brooklyn.

Most top admen, however, work at a coronary-inducing pace: 70-hour weeks are not unusual, and last year the average age of the men whose obituaries were published in Advertising Age was 61, v. 68 for executives in such related industries as publishing. In return, the admen are well paid. It is not uncommon for an adman with some talent and only five years' experience to enjoy a salary of $15,000 to $20.000—which is about 50% more than a man with similar assets can command in engineering or electronics. "Advertising." exults Marion Harper, who earns over $100,000 a year, "is an intellectual lottery at which everyone can be a winner."

Everyone can also be a worrier, for insecurity is the rule. The admen live in a world where the stealing of accounts and executives is a way of life, and where a client's hunch or whim may erase a score of jobs overnight. On average, the U.S. adman changes his job once every three years during his 30s and once every four years during his 40s—a far swifter turnover than in corporate life as a whole.