What About Bob?

It has occurred to me -- with some gentle prodding -- that I had never written a Roundseventeen post about Bob Kuperman, one of the original Doyle Dane Bernbach Mad Men who had a tremendous impact on my career.

Although, he almost didn't.

After a rocky start in recruitment adverting, plus a couple of years of journeyman work at Abert Newhoff & Burr, I finally had a portfolio worth showing to Chiat/Day. At least I thought I had. They were staffing up and I somehow managed to land an interview with the famously cantankerous Kuperman.

He was sporting a man ponytail of hair and a Hawaiian shirt that featured every color from Pantone 1- Pantone 1,000,000. I'm sure that shirt now sits in a bin at the Goodwill store on Venice Blvd. And has for the last 25 years.

At the conclusion of the interview we exchanged pleasantries and Bob said to call him in a week. Excited? You're damn right I was excited. This was going to be my big break. I knew once I had my foot in that door, my life would change. Hell, the agency would change.

Chiat/Day/Siegel.
Chiat/Siegel/Day.
Siegel/Chiat/Day.

I nervously picked up the phone.

"Hey Kupe. It's me, Rich Siegel. You interviewed me last week."

"Oh yeah, hey Rich."

"You told me to to follow up."

"Listen, I liked your book a lot. But we're not hiring any art directors right now."

CLICK

Just one more layer of thick skin necessary for a life in advertising.

It would be another two years before I actually got in. And I'm not sure Bob and I ever spoke of what had transpired. We didn't have to.

We clicked in a way only two crabby, transplanted New York Jews can click.

He was opinionated. I was opinionated.
He was contrarian. I was contrarian.
He was fearless. I was fearless.
He was a rich, powerful man. I was opinionated.

While Bob intimidated others, he didn't intimidate me. In Bob's forthright no-nonsense approach I found someone who could and would champion my work. When I partnered with John Shirley the admiration grew even deeper. And Bob came to us for various pitches, including Chivas Regal and Callaway Golf.

In fact, before the big presentation, he whispered to John and I, "if we win this account, I'll get you each a set of top of the line Callaway clubs." 

Those clubs are gathering dust in my garage, behind all the weightlifting equipment.

Bob pushed the work in the right direction, the direction that made clients nervous and take risks. More importantly, he went to bat for me, and others. I will never forget that.

I miss those salad days at Chiat.
I miss working with Lee.
And though Bob and I occasionally trade barbs on Facebook, I miss the one on one contact.

"Get out of my fuckin' office, you frickin' hard-on."

You just don't hear those terms of endearment much anymore.


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ADDENDUM. Here's the manifesto for the Chivas Regal campaign that we never sold, but should have sold. Bob loved it. And so did my mother.