On Tuesday evening, at an evening to celebrate 50 years of the Designers’ and Art Directors’ association, CDP was declared to be the most-awarded agency of the last half-century (specifically only D&AD awards taken into account). Frank Lowe and John Salmon collected the award.

Amongst CDP alumni who also stepped up to the podium were Neil Godfrey (most awarded art director); Bob Isherwood (6th most awarded art director); David Horry (8th most awarded art director);
Tony Brignull (most awarded writer); John Salmon (5th most awarded writer) and Mike Cozens (7th most awarded writer).

Tony Kaye, who apparently crawled on all fours to collect his award, won most awarded director jointly with Frank Budgen.

Like all the awards that the agency garnered over the years, these awards aren’t just a testament to the talent of the writers and art directors who worked at CDP but something of which every ex-employee can be justly proud.

Without the support of everybody, from Frank Hambleton on the door to Flossie and Joyce with a much-needed cup of tea, none of this would have been possible.

We have just heard from John Tylee of Campaign that Ron Collins has passed away. Ron worked at CDP a couple of times, once in the sixties and again in the seventies. On his first stint at the agency he was famously asked by John Pearce to paint JP’s suitcase in a tasteless and garish manner. John Pearce was fed up with losing suitcases by other people mistakenly picking them up. He figured that if his suitcase looked awful nobody would touch it. Ron rose to occasion and Mr Pearce never lost his suitcase again.

In the seventies, Ron was responsible for many of the agency’s most outstanding campaigns, notably the Cinzano commercials with Leonard Rossiter and Joan Collins, a spectacular Clark’s shoe campaign that he shot with Lester Bookbinder, and the famous Morecombe and Wise commercials for Havoline.

He left CDP to found his own agency, Wright, Collins, Rutherford, Scott with another CDP old boy, Robin Wight. This agency metamorphosed into the Engine Group, whose offices we used for our party last year. As some of you may remember, Ron was not well enough to attend the party as he had just undergone a serious heart operation.

My favourite story about Ron is the one about when he strolled in at 11 o’clock one morning. Colin Millward accosted him. ‘You should have been here at 9 o’clock’, said Colin. ‘Why, what happened?’ was Ron’s famous reply. May he rest in peace.

Mike Everett

The History of Advertising Trust, run by CDP Old Boy, Barry Cox, is in desperate need of funding.

Among its archive, the largest in the world, is the most comprehensive collection of CDP ads anywhere. But, unless HAT gets the money it needs, this archive will be dispersed, or worse, thrown away.

HAT has secured a ‘matchfunding’ deal with a new initiative called the BigArtsGive. This means that every pound you give after 10am on December 6th, and for the week thereafter, will be matched by a pound from them. But this must be done online.

Do your bit to prevent all those great CDP ads being consigned to the dustbin of history. Click on the link below.

History of Advertising Trust – BigArtsGive

Illogical

As Mike Everett explains, giving birth to what was probably the greatest ever Heineken poster wasn’t without its pangs.

We’re back in early 1975. CDP is still located in its original dingy offices on the corner of Howland Street and Whitfield Street in London’s West End. Terry Lovelock and Vernon Howe are just beginning to get into their stride with the famous ‘Heineken refreshes the parts other beers cannot reach’ campaign, which they had created the year before. The latest commercial features a spoof of Star Trek, where the crew of the star ship are unable to beam up from the surface of an alien planet because the transporter is in need of refreshment. Of course, Heineken solves the problem and they are able to set off ‘to generally make nuisances of themselves throughout the galaxy’, to use Terry’s words.

Shortly afterwards, a brief dropped on to Tony Brignull’s desk asking for a 48 sheet poster for Heineken, using the ‘refreshes the parts’ line. Tony did most of his work with his long-time partner, the great art director, Neil Godfrey. But, on this occasion, Neil wasn’t in the agency. So Tony cast around for an art director to draw up an idea that had immediately occurred to him when he saw Terry’s commercial: use Mr Spock (or Dr Spock, as Tony kept referring to him, not appreciating the subtle difference in title between the child physiologist and the second in command of the USS Enterprise) with his pointed, Vulcan ears in need of refreshment.

Leaving his office on the 4th floor he failed to find an art director till he happened upon Paul Smith. Now Paul is many things but, luckily for this poster, he is a magnificent draughtsman. Until then, all Heineken posters had been two frame affairs, one depicting before and the other, the after, not least because the idea that Terry and Vernon had created was in essence a spoof of the tedious soap powder commercials that crowded the airwaves in those days. But Paul felt that Tony’s idea would work best as a triptych – one frame showing Mr Spock with limp ears, the second showing Mr Spock drinking Heineken, his ears starting to lift, and the third showing Mr Spock, his ears now erect. It was then, as he drafted out the three frames on his layout pad that a piece of pure genius occurred to him. On the third frame he drew a thought bubble and within it wrote the word ‘illogical’. This was what CDP creative director, John Salmon often referred to as ‘the wasp on the orange’ – the inspired finishing touch that turns a good idea into a great one. But not everyone agreed.

Tony Brignull hated the addition of the bubble and fought tooth and nail to get rid of it. I should say here that Tony Brignull is one of the most talented, award-laden copywriters it has been advertising’s good fortune to employ. He is undoubtedly an advertising genius. And, along with David Abbott, can justly lay claim to being the greatest ever advertising copywriter this country has produced . But on this occasion he was unmovable: the bubble must be burst.

So now we have Paul Smith sitting with one of the finest pieces of work he has ever been involved in, having to remove his stroke of pure inspiration. What to do? The ever-resourceful Mr Smith decided there was only one thing he could do: appeal to a higher authority in the form of John Salmon. Now, if there’s one thing you can say about John Salmon it’s that he knows a good thing when he sees it. He loved the thought bubble. ‘Let me talk to Tony’ said John and he did. Tony reluctantly agreed.

Needless to say, everyone who saw the ‘Spock’ layout fell in love with it, most importantly the client. It was rushed into production – sort of. There was the small matter of the copyright of the Mr Spock character to overcome, plus the not insignificant job of photographing Leonard Nimoy, the actor who played Mr Spock in the series. The copyright issue was soon sorted out with a £5,000 payment to Paramount, the studio that made Star Trek. Paramount’s only other request was a small line of type on the poster acknowledging their ownership of the character. But photographing Leonard Nimoy was proving insurmountable. For one thing, neither he nor his agent could be tracked down by CDP’s resourceful Whitbread account group. Time dragged on and the wonderful layout began to gather dust in Paul Smith’s office. It even began to be forgotten about by some – CDP was producing so much great work at the time there were plenty of terrific distractions – but one man hadn’t let it slip from his memory. Step forward again, Tony Brignull. Tony had now become fond of the Spock poster and had even begun to like the contentious thought bubble.

Now as well as being famous for the hundreds of great ads he has produced, Tony Brignull is also renowned for his mercurial temper. Countless account men had found themselves on the receiving end of it on many occasions. Now it was Paul Smith’s turn. Frustrated by the lack of progress in getting the poster into production, Tony burst into Paul’s office and demanded that he get on a plane to New York and photograph Leonard Nimoy with immediate effect. It has to be said that Tony’s choice of words was somewhat more colourful than those just recorded and, in any case, as far as anyone knew, Leonard Nimoy wasn’t in New York, he was in Los Angeles. But the point was, as Paul vainly tried to point out, nobody could actually get hold of the actor to even arrange a photographic shoot. So there was no point in him getting on a plane to either city.

Once again, Paul found himself sitting with his wonderful layout, still no closer to getting it produced – and now, through no fault of his own, with the not inconsiderable wrath of Tony Brignull falling about his person. At this point, Paul did what any sane art director would do. He took the problem to somebody who some people considered to be totally insane. He invoked the counsel of his group head, the one and only Alan Waldie, creator of the famous Benson & Hedges surreal campaign.

This again is a terrific example of what was already a great idea turning into an even greater one. Alan listened carefully to Paul’s problem, thought for a moment, studied Paul’s meticulously crafted magic marker layout, and then spoke. ‘It looks like a cartoon, the way you’ve drawn it, with that bubble. Why not make it one. Don’t take a photograph. Use Philip Castle to illustrate it instead. You never know, it might be better’. And it was. Not for nothing was Alan one of advertising’s most famous art directors.

So the poster was finally put into production and appeared to great acclaim on billboards all over Britain. Alan’s idea of using Philip Castle turned out to be a masterstroke. Castle delivered three fantastic drawings in bold, comic book style of the pointy-eared Vulcan, experiencing the three stages of Heineken refreshment. Coupled with Tony’s brilliant original thought, inspired by Terry and Vernon’s film, and with Paul’s smart speech bubble addition, not to mention the use of the first-ever Heineken triptych, the poster was a tour-de-force. In many ways, it was a typical example how CDP triumphed. In essence, this poster was the work of two men, Tony and Paul. But without the support system that CDP provided, the inspiration and help of the other creative people that surrounded them, and the sheer dogged tenacity that CDP displayed at getting its ideas made, this poster would never have seen the light of day – at least not in the form we know it. And there’s an amusing postscript.

It’s been said that Leonard Nimoy had been undergoing a difficult time psychologically. He’d been to see his shrink in Los Angeles who’d suggested that his problems might stem from the fact that he was intrinsically linked to the character of Mr Spock – that he was so closely associated with Mr Spock that he was in danger of becoming Mr Spock, to the detriment of his own personality. When Nimoy asked what he might do to rectify this, he was told to get away from the character and try and forget it. Find a country where the show isn’t being aired and go there. The trouble was, that was more or less impossible. Star Trek was such a success it was playing everywhere. Just about every country in the world featured it in their TV schedules – except one.

Strange as it seems, Star Trek was not at that time on TV in Britain. So, taking his shrink’s advice, Leonard Nimoy booked a trip to the UK. All went well until he took a taxi from the airport into London. On the way, he was assailed by CDP’s legendary media buying ability in the form of a massive 48-sheet poster adorning the side of the Cromwell Road. Yes, you guessed it. It was the Heineken ‘Mr Spock’ poster in all its glory. It is said that Nimoy turned the taxi around and went straight back to the airport. Whether this story is true, I’ve no idea. But it’s a good story. And as John Ritchie, one of CDP’s great account directors, once remarked, ‘there’s no point in having a story if you don’t tell it’. That’s especially true when it concerns a piece of advertising as powerful, as revolutionary, and as outstanding as Mr Spock.

Copyright: Michael Everett 2010.

Where are they now? Terry Lovelock is still writing, screenplays and advertising and is a member of CDP Celebration. Vernon Howe passed away in 2004. Tony Brignull went on to gain an MA in English at Oxford and still undertakes freelance advertising assignments. He is a member of CDP Celebration. Neil Godfrey is retired and lives in Devon. He is a member of CDP Celebration. Paul Smith is the Europe, Africa and Middle East creative director at Ogilvy and a member of CDP Celebration. John Salmon is retired and living in Hampstead. He is a member of CDP Celebration. Alan Waldie now paints and lives in Sussex. He is also a member of CDP Celebration. Sadly, John Ritchie is in ill-health and lives in London.

Put the date in your diary for the latest D&AD President’s Lecture. The topic is Collett Dickenson Pearce.

Collett Dickenson Pearce. Slow, arrogant and expensive?
Tony Brignull, Sir Frank Lowe, Sir Alan Parker, John Salmon and Alan Waldie answer your questions on one of the most important UK advertising agencies of the twentieth century. Chaired by Anthony Simonds-Gooding, D&AD Chairman and one-time client of CDP.

Wednesday 19th May
7pm – 8.30pm
Logan Hall
Institute of Education
Bedford Way
London
WC1H 0AL
Tube: Russell Square

To book tickets visit http://www.dandad.org/?p=1619

Campaign Diary
Diary’s mind is spinning at the thought of all the anecdotes being swapped at what’s likely to be the agency reunion to top them all.

Next year will be the 50th anniversary of the founding of Collett Dickenson Pearce. And a couple of its former senior staffers are marking the occasion by bringing together every surviving staffer who ever worked at the place.

Some 200 have promised to be there – and up to 300 more are being tracked down.

Although CDP – soon to be rebranded as Dentsu London – opened its doors for business on All Fools’ Day 1960, 15 April is the chosen date. “Our work was always late,” Mike Everett, a one-time CDP creative group head and one of the reunion organisers, tells us. “So a two-week delay is in the best CDP tradition.”

Meanwhile, ex-staff will be invited to post their best tales on a website, as well as examples they have of CDP’s work. Sadly, there’s no comprehensive archive for the agency that proclaimed “Happiness is a cigar called Hamlet” or told drinkers “Heineken refreshes the parts other beers cannot reach”.

And the stories? Well, there’s hundreds. John Stuart, the former operations director, remembers the time Frank Lowe, then CDP’s managing director, thought it wise not to fire a production man after learning he was related to the great train robber Ronnie Biggs.

Or when John O’Donnell (pictured), the creative director, was ordered to warn his staff about their behaviour after a security man caught one of them in flagrante delicto with a woman staffer. O’Donnell circulated a memo saying the more rumpy-pumpy the better, because it got the creative juices flowing.

Joann Mackenzie in Campaign’s Letters page

This goes out to all you young London creatives from someone in New York who was, once upon a time, a young American girl writing copy at CDP.

Now I imagine you all may be sick to death of hearing about the glory days of CDP. And I imagine you all wonder if its halls were really so hallowed.

Well, no, its halls felt anything but hallowed at the time. But, yes, there really were days of glory between the blood, sweat and tears that went into going for the gold back then at Colin Millward’s Collett Dickenson Pearce.

Colin’s gone now, I’ve just learned from Campaign, 14 May issue. Joined the dear and darling departed likes of Vernon Howe, Phil Mason, Rick Cook, Rita Dempsey and Carol Nelson.

How weird those words look on the screen in front of me. How impossible that these people are no longer laughing and living and loving among us. How telling that the first word I typed to describe them was “laughing”.

We should all be so lucky to have had our lives graced – for even (like me) a little while – by the likes of Colin Millward. He did not approve of me at first because I was American. And when he did decide I made the cut, he told me so by saying: “What I like about you, Jo,is you’re so… un… American.” (It took me decades and George W Bush finally to figure out that maybe he was right.)

Colin was a gentleman who, when I had to leave CDP for several months to be with my sister who was dying of cancer, simply said: “Go, Jo. We’ll take care of everything.” By which he meant an unlimited leave of absence with full pay and more love and good will than I perhaps deserved and have certainly not experienced in all the years I have lived since.

Colin was a prototype for what American economists later coined as the “trickle-down effect”. John … ‘so lucky to have had our lives graced by such a fellow’ Salmon was, in style, very much like him. Frank Lowe was a more volatile version. Everybody at CDP was, or became, through osmosis, very much like Colin – the rule of thumb was: God help you if your work did not come up to scratch. But God bless you big time if it did.

Which certainly beats the prevailing mood in advertising today, which pretty much comes down to, as my Irish grandmother used to say: “Six cents-worth of God help us.”

As a New Yorker who had cut her baby copy teeth back at Bill Bernbach’s DDB, I thought I’d seen it all. But as an American advertising person in love with living in London, when Lowe hired me into his group at CDP, I came to feel as if London itself had taken my hand in a marriage that would never end in memory.

CDP remains for me like Never-Never Land. If you had to choose who Peter Pan was, there would be a lot of contenders. But I guess, in the end, it would have to be Colin. Thank you, Colin, and all of you who let us do what we could only do at CDP.

Just the other day I ran across my Pretty Polly poster in the current issue of Archive magazine. Seems like yesterday that I was sitting on my bed on a Sunday afternoon, tracing those legs (because I can’t draw) from a page in a fashion magazine and writing the words “When was the last time a man said you had a great pair of jeans?” (I’d just come back from the south of France and was tan and skinny and had chucked my omni-wear jeans for a short sundress).

There was no strategy behind that poster. There was no anything except a requisition for a one-off ad in a fashion glossy. What made it make advertising history was one thing that saw to it that it was plastered on 48-sheet posters all over England, and that one thing was CDP.

I am still a copywriter and I still love doing outdoor and I still have posters running on bus sides and plastered on kiosks all over New York and I still get a kick out of every one of them and every time I see one I think: “This one’s for everyone at CDP.”

Was CDP all it was cracked up to be? Ah,young London creatives, you should be so lucky.

Joann (Mond) Mackenzie