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Advertising pioneer David Ogilvy is known for creating famed images such as the eye patch-wearing man in the Hathaway shirt, yet he is considered a master of the soft sell because of his belief that ads should focus on selling products rather than on entertainment.
That reason-based approach has particular relevance in this period of new frugality.
The English-born Ogilvy, a writer steeped in print advertising and Depression-era door-to-door selling of high-end Aga stoves in Scotland, thought ads should be tasteful and respectful of their audience. “The consumer is not a moron; she’s your wife,” the agency founder was known to advise. “Don’t insult her intelligence.”
Contrary to the title of the BBC documentary, “David Ogilvy: Original Mad Man,” the founding partner of Ogilvy & Mather was nothing like the heavy-drinking, chain-smoking ad executives on the hit AMC television series “Mad Men,” Kenneth Roman, author of a new biography of Ogilvy, who died at age 88 in 1999, said in an interview.
Recalling Ogilvy’s heyday as an advertising copywriter and ceo in the Fifties and Sixties, the decade in which “Mad Men” is set, Roman said, “He didn’t smoke cigarettes. He smoked a pipe. He drank in moderation. He almost never wore a business suit. He wore costumes (a kilt on formal occasions). He was a hard, dedicated, disciplined worker, who also had fun.”
The ad scene changed quickly and lastingly in the mid-Sixties, with the proliferation of commercials on TV — a medium for which Ogilvy had no feeling, Roman recounted. Spurred by creative rival Bill Bernbach, the ascendancy of visual images trumped the lengthy copy of print ads like Ogilvy’s.
“He never wrote a good television commercial,” Roman asserted. “He had no sense of technology. He had other things.”
Ogilvy was a freewheeling individual, as the author tells it in “The King of Madison Avenue” (Palgrave Macmillan; $27.95), given to wearing a “full-length flowing black cape with scarlet lining” to the agency he started in 1948, donning a kilt for formal occasions and seldom wearing a business suit in his 25-year run in the business, much of it during a period of social conformity.
Roman ought to know. He joined Ogilvy & Mather as an assistant account executive in 1963 (claiming himself to have had a two-martini lunch only once in his career) and rose to become chairman and ceo after Ogilvy stepped down 10 years later.
“At a time of gray flannel suits and button-down shirts, Ogilvy stood out as exotic,” Roman writes of the man who by the end of the Sixties had led Ogilvy & Mather to billings of $130 million and status as a top 10 agency in the U.S.
The advertising executive’s Scottish, Irish and English heritage was equally colorful, with links to the writer Rebecca West (a cousin) and former British prime minister William Gladstone (also a cousin). According to a 1970 issue of his agency’s newsletter, “Flagbearer,” Ogilvy was descended from Charlemagne by five different lines, a discovery made by a relative who traced the Ogilvy family’s history.