1960s WORK
0167 McCann Ericsson
The agency, which I inherited at Cussons, was McCann Ericsson. They were one I used at PST, and they probably knew the history of my firing at PST -- which boded ill for me. They were also, unfortunately, under examination since their advertising had not been particularly good. In fact their advertising ideas for Dri-Foam were quite creative. But their media buying was rather less successful. Accordingly they were under a considerable amount of pressure, not least from myself. Used to the PST approach, I pulled no punches. Indeed I may have been rather more brutal that I needed to be.
They clearly were desperate to impress me when I arrived. During the morning meeting the account executive kept telling me what a wonderful lunch we were going to have. After the meeting we walked down the road to the restaurant; which turned out to be the Au Savarin. As we walked through the door, the head waiter came rushing out as usual -- but not to the account executive. Instead he rushed over to me and said “How nice to see you Mr Mercer, do you want your usual table”! I have never seen an agency deflated so quickly. I almost felt sorry for the account executive.
Even so I spent a lot of time working with the agency. Indeed, on average, I probably worked with them three times a week. My routine, therefore, was to drive to Wilmslow Station, where I became such a regular that the car park attendant kept a space for me. There I got the lunchtime train and had lunch on the way down the agency -- during the two and a half hour journey. Incidentally, I would put in a full morning's work at Cussons, in Salford, before driving to the station
Once in London I did a full afternoon's work -- avoiding the penalty of a very boozy lunch -- and left at the end of the afternoon. I then caught the Pullman back to Manchester, again having my meal on the train. In this way I was able to put in the morning in Manchester and the afternoon in London; only penalised by having my meals on the train. It was process that worked well, but it meant I travelled 50,000 miles a year on that railway line!.
I would have thought that, with me being such a regular, the staff on the train would soon come to know me -- but they studiously avoided recognising me.
On the other hand when, one lunchtime, I went with Hugh Goodwin my boss, they immediately hovered over him giving him the best service possible. I realised why, when he gave them massive tip. As a millionaire he could afford this. I couldn't.
He also could never understand why I had difficulty getting a hotel room in London -- it was the time of the great hotel room shortage. He pointed out he could just walk into Claridges any time he wanted. What he didn't realise was that he was on the select list of people who -- as millionaires -- were worth the hotel cultivating in this way.
Hugh rarely flashed his money around, but my brand manager Roger told me of one lovely example. They were driving in a taxi round Trafalgar Square when he said “Roger, if you could have one car and if you didn't have to worry about the price, what would it be?” Roger thought a minute and suggested something like a Mercedes. Hugh replied “I think I would like one of those new Aston Martins”, pointing out one which was just passing. That was on Friday afternoon. On Monday morning he drove into work in just such a new Aston Martin! But, as I say he was a lovely guy and never played on his wealth.
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