Is This Still Advertising?

In 1975 my grandfather, Harry C. Groome Jr., wrote a how-to book on the advertising industry aptly called This is Advertising. It was published by the company where he worked in Philadelphia called Ayer; also known as America’s first advertising agency. The summary on the inside cover reads, “The Ayer book on what advertising is all about, who does what, and how to get a job in it.” As the description suggests, it’s kind of the 1970’s version of Advertising for Dummies aimed at aspiring ad men and women.

I recently stumbled upon my copy of the book, a hardcover version with visible vestiges of its previous life. You can still see the remnants of a library sticker on the spine and a few faded, ringed coffee cup stains on the cover. It’s my portable time machine as the look, feel, style, and even the smell of it, all ooze the mid-1970's.

I’ve always cherished this book as a tangible connection to my grandfather and our shared experience of working in the same business, albeit many decades apart. It had been several years since I last read (skimmed) it, so I decided to give it a deeper look to see if it provided me with any insights and value beyond nostalgia and the personal connection to its author.

Right from the start, the book offers a few industry statistics so I thought doing a simple data comparison of the two eras would provide some interesting context. According to the book, annual ad spending in the U.S. was $25B. Since then, spending has increased by over 1,000% to around $300B. The book also cites that the number of U.S. ad agencies was 6,000, compared to about 90,000 today. I found these to be helpful data points to quantify the change in scale and complexity of today’s ad business versus 50 years ago.

As I went deeper into the book, I discovered in the midst of mostly instructional and practical content about the basics of working in a 1970’s ad agency, there were a few more vivid passages that delved into the mindset and personality of agency employees.

For example, one clear theme in the book is virtue (or lack thereof) in the advertising industry. This topic seems to have been very much top of mind and a particular point of contention for my grandfather. Early on he writes, “When we feel like denouncing advertising we should attempt to identify the nature of our objection. Is it to the advertising, or to the advertiser who uses it and the purpose for which it is used?”

To drive his point home further, he uses a metaphor that’s the equivalent of the “Guns don’t kill people, people kill people” argument. He writes, “You might want to think of it this way: Is the hammer used to build a house a good hammer and the one used to beat someone’s brains out a bad one? Or does the problem lie with the set of mind of the user and the purpose for which he uses the tool?”

This is by far the most personally revealing part of the book, and makes clear that the stigmas of working in the ad business placed a burden on him and no doubt his contemporaries as well. It was also a window into both his empathy and dry sense of humor.

In a later chapter my grandfather lays out his thoughts on the required characteristics for the “aspiring agency man or woman.” Here are the highlights of what he thinks it takes to succeed in the agency business of his day:

Interest: Must be devoted to continuing self renewal, to educating and re-educating themselves constantly.

Personal Integrity: Must be prepared to support his or her beliefs with conviction and tactful determination in the face of client questioning, or even outright disagreement.

An Urge for Diversity: Advertising is not for those who seek the comfortable groove or the security blanket of repetitive chores.

A Sense of Humor: People being what they are, in an advertising environment the ridiculous is likely to be encountered more often than the sublime, and over the long haul a sense of humor is essential to the agency person’s recuperative powers, health and euphoria.

I found myself happily surprised by the very pertinent (and some very progressive) concepts he touches on in this passage — virtue, personal integrity, diversity, self renewal, recuperation, health, and even euphoria. Not to mention, the timelessness of the importance of a good sense of humor.

Taking a trip with my grandfather back in time to the ad business of the 70’s was a more profound journey than I had expected. As dated as many elements of the book seem now, these hidden gems were a reminder of the man I once knew and also proof positive of the old saying that “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

In re-reading his book, I thought a lot about what I would say to my grandfather if I had a time machine that could take me back to 1975. I’d start with a few heavy questions about what was driving his defensiveness about his perceived objections to the agency business back then? Why did he feel compelled to address them so explicitly in the book? How did it make him feel about his career choice? If he could do it all over again, would he?

I’d also ask more benign questions like what’s the deal with the weird faced-pages image on the book’s cover? Where did he come up with the hammer analogy? How long did it take him to write it? How many copies were printed? Did he make money off of it? Did it make him industry famous? And so many more.

After that, I’d tell him about an advertising business of the future where computer generated algorithms can predict and measure every element of consumer response, where magazines have been replaced by digital screens, where robots plan and buy media, and even write copy and art direct from time to time. I’d let him know that the amount of content the industry produces each day is so vast it’s measured in quintillions of bytes and the average consumer is bombarded by thousands of ads everyday — mostly on their telephones which go everywhere people go. I’d tell him about a future where client meetings are held virtually, beaming people’s images through fiber optic cables and over a computer screen. I can only imagine he would think it was all pure science fiction.

I would also tell him that, while technology has profoundly transformed the business he once knew in every way, the insights, art, craft, care, collaboration, and relationships that make the best advertising are still led by actual human beings, and that those humans embody many of the same talents, qualities, quirks, and insecurities that he wrote about in his book 50 years ago.

Lastly, I’d tell him that as strange and different as the future might seem to be, I have the feeling that his advertising experience was in many ways my advertising experience as well.