OH, THE JOY OF MEMORY
Mac Jett,
Lindstrom and Jett, Inc.
(1973-1983)
Remember when there was actually dirt between the communities that now constitute the Valley of the Sun? Remember when a prime time TV spot on one of the four stations cost $300 (that's if you weren't a good negotiator--if you were good it was probably $250 or less)? Remember when creating and producing advertising was fun?
Ray Lindstrom and I do. In fact we were reminiscing a couple of days ago. We talked about our successes--Earnhardt Ford (then a dusty dealership in Chandler); Entz-White Lumber (alas, no more); Charlie Case Tire Company ("Charlie My Boy, Oh"...); Isley's RV Center ("Yes we have it..."); Crossroads Art Gallery [the first of the infamous hotel art sale dealers and our biggest account with shows literally world-wide (a few companies are still doing it)]; Monti's La Casa Vieja (not a big account but a good one); Washburn Musicland (free organ lessons); and many more. Those were some of our successful ones--but the unsuccessful ones were more fun.
The most fun was Johnny-No-Splash. Never heard of it did you. Here's why. The client came to us (he probably tried the big guys in town and was rebuffed)--with his product already produced (200,000 plus) bagged and sealed with the copy "As seen on TV" prominently displayed on the packaging.
What was the product? Glad you asked. Johnny-No-Splash was a small device that one glued on the inside of the toilet bowl at water level. A man was supposed to aim at it when standing above the bowl and urinating. When properly executed the screen (think tiny tennis racket) dispersed the stream and prevented splashing (obviously this client had way too much time on his hands).
"Can you get me on television?" he desperately asked. Ah, a challenge and of course, like any small and struggling agency would, we agreed (for a small and very fair fee) to try. National campaign thoughts were dancing in our heads.
Ray wrote a great spot--cutting edge...and according to every station in Arizona, way before its time. You see in those days (early seventies) there was a governmental agency called the FCC that frowned upon references, however veiled, to bodily functions. Oh, how times have changed.
So we failed, as did the hot-shot, big time agency in LA that promised him, for a very large fee, that they could do it. Johnny-No-Splash lives on in our memories, and I can't help but smile when I remember the laughs we had, and how much fun advertising was when Phoenix was smaller and we were all young and foolish.
Oh, What We Did For Our Agencies
by Mac Jett
Lindstrom & Jett (1973-1983)
The time--mid seventies
The place--Phoenix
The client--Earnhardt Ford
The agency--Lindstrom & Jett.
When Ray and I put our short-lived individual agencies together in 1973, Ray brought most of the billing to the new entity. Included in this handful of clients was Earnhardt Ford. That's right, in those days Tex had only one dealership.
Because Tex was so important to our fledging agency (our biggest client by far), Ray always handled the account himself--I didn't even meet Tex until 1975 (a real sign of confidence on Ray's part).
But that was to change, and therein lies my tale.
After tremendous pressure from his family, Ray finally agreed to take a three week vacation. The catch was that I had to handle Tex while Ray
was having fun (and probably sweating bullets imagining how our major client would take to yours truly).
In those days we did weekly used car spots which required Ray's, or in this case, my presence at the dealership in Chandler. The first week's session went swimmingly, so well in fact that Tex invited me to accompany him to his daily workout after the next week's shoot.
I accepted. I lived to regret it.
In those days Tex was incredibly fit (and if seeing is believing, he still is today). I wasn't fitnever have been, probably never will be, but duty called and I answered.
I was able to do about one fourth of the things Tex did that afternoon. I swear he didn't break a sweat and I was dying. When the session mercifully ended Tex suggested we take some steam and a sauna. At last something I could do! I immediately accepted.
But, Tex had one more surprise for me.
Following our steam and sauna, Tex demonstrated his mettle by jumping into an ice cold plunge pool. He exited smiling and looked at me. This was the moment of truth--I was sure that based on my inept performance in the gym, Tex was convinced that I was a real wuss (and this
evaluation might reflect badly on L&J--oh, the horror of it all). So not to be outdone in this one event at least, I too made the plunge. I don't recommend it, I don't care what the size of the account. My heart stopped and every bit of air in my lungs was sucked out at hurricane velocity.
When Ray returned I made a point of telling him what I had gone through for the good of the agency. He laughed, said he would have NEVER done it and we never spoke of it again.
