www.chuckblore.com

Okay, Okay I Wrote the Book

Last week, you'll recall: Our little Rambler commercial won top spots in three or four major awards shows. “Hmmph.” I thought, “That was easy. Maybe I'll try making commercials for a while.”

And now ...

“Making commercials?” I said to myself, “What are you? Nuts? You hate commercials. I hate BAD commercials. They're all bad. Not Freberg. Yeah, but there’s only one Freberg and he ain’t you.” It went on like that for hours. Then for days. Arguing with myself about the pros and the cons of radio commercials. What pros? It was all cons. There was only one pro. Freberg.

“Why would you want to make commercials? Commercials are dumb.” That was my Mother talking. “You should go to work at another radio station. Make those people at KFWB sorry they fired you.”

“They did NOT fire me, Mom.” My Mother could really piss me off.

“Well, you didn't quit. That would REALLY be dumb.” How sweet she was. “Chuckle, are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, Mom. I'm listening.”

“Why don't you go to work for that other radio station” You know, the one you told me wasn't that bad.”

“I don't recall ...”

“I said their deejays all sound like they've been kissing someone with bad breath. And you said, it wasn't that bad.” My Mother, like most mothers I guess, had a very good memory, “So, why don't you call them?”

“‘Cause I have no magic cure for bad breath.” then, I added, “I really don't know what I want to do. But if I go back into radio, I'm not going to do KFWB all over again. I'd like to do something really different.”

“Like what?” said Mom.

“I don't know, but I have a year and a half to think about it.” I was referring to my eighteen month non-competition clause. I couldn't work in radio while Cromwell-Collier was still paying me and I couldn't get them to stop doing that. Not all bad, by the way.

The phone rang in my office-garage scaring all the mice. It was The Hollywood Junior Chamber of Commerce calling. They were initiating something called, The Hollywood Walk Of Fame. They were going to honor a hundred Hollywood achievers by putting their names in giant stars in the sidewalk all along Hollywood Blvd. The achievers to be so honored came from three sources; movies, TV and radio, all equally divided. The caller from The Junior Chamber said they would like to include my name for “significant achievement” in radio. They showed me the list and I think I was number twenty eight, right after Al Jarvis. Twenty eight out of thirty three, but I made the cut. On the same list with Bing Crosby, Jack Benny, and Fred Allen (the top three), ain’t too shabby.

Ah, but then the big guys, the real Hollywood Chamber of Commerce saw what the juniors were doing, liked it, and took it over. Now, of course, it’s still an honor to be there, but you also have to pay a couple thousand bucks for that privilege. When the big guys took charge, they also changed the percentages. Fifty percent movies, thirty percent TV and twenty percent radio (wouldn't you know it?) Crash! That was I, biting the dust. Everybody in radio under Arthur Geoffrey, I think he was number twenty, was thrown out.

Ring. The garage phone again. That must be the third call in two weeks. Boy, this is getting annoying. And this wasn't even the busy season. Well, actually ... maybe it was.

The West Coast head of Doyle-Dane-Bern was Ted Factor. Ted and I had become friends when we worked together cooking up some KFWB stunts to tie in with DDB clients. He heard I'd left the station and called to ask if I'd ever given any thought to advertising. “I don't know whether or not it’s an upward career move,” Ted said, “But I believe radio would surely profit by having radio advertising created by someone who knows something about radio.”

“Uh. That’s interesting.” I said, thinking this guy must be into mental telepathy.

We met in Ted’s office on a Wednesday afternoon. We talked about radio and advertising for four hours. Turns out Ted had been a judge on one of the competitions where my Rambler spot took the top prize. “When I heard you wrote that, and that you were no longer at the station, I thought we should talk.” What a compliment. Doyle-Dane was at that time reinventing advertising creativity in every medium, and Ted Factor, who was directly responsible for the part of it that came from the Coast, thought we should talk. Toward the end of that first four hour talk session Ted said, “What are you doing next Wednesday?”

“No plans.”

“How about we talk again.”

I told him I thought that would be fantastic at which point he wrote a large BLORE across all the next Wednesday afternoon. Next week, same thing. On the fourth week of this incredible advertising intensive training I was getting, he handed me a video tape of some Rainier Ale spots his agency had just finished. He said, “I think you're ready. Look at these TV spots. Keep in mind, our primary audience is young black males. Come back next week with a couple of radio ideas for Rainier Ale.”

I had no idea what I was about to get into. Whoa!