A Chiat/Day remembrance
Got this lovely memory in the mail today from Penny Cunningham ...
Chiat/Day spoiled me for almost any other company. It certainly wasn't perfect, but as the experts say, the corporate culture starts at the top. When I first started in media, we still had a switchboard phone system, and I was one of the ones that rotated for lunch relief. I'd never operated one before, and was fairly nervous. And, of course, the first person I cut off turned out to be Jay. When he called back, he identified himself and said he'd just been cut off (sounding about as pleased as you'd expect). I blurted out, "Oh I'm so glad it was you, and not a client." He only paused a second and then said, "Yes, that's good," fairly dryly, and asked for whoever he'd called for. And in those days, almost everyone (except Jay) smoked. The media, traffic, production and creative groups often worked fairly late, and at the Olympic Blvd. office, you didn't want to venture out much after dark. Guy ALWAYS left ciggarets in his center desk drawer, knowing people would filtch (one at a time). No one ever took the last one, as far as I know, and most of us would periodically replace a pack so he wouldn't be out himself. Those are just two of the behaviors that defined corporate culture there. Not everyone fit at C/D, but they didn't stay long either. I didn't know Bob Dion, but clearly he stayed at C/D for a good amount of time, so he was one of the "good guys", and he will be sorely missed.
Comments
When I started working at Chiat/Day in September 1978 Guy Day was on what we were told was a "sabatical" to write a book. I'd never met him or seen his photo and I didn't know much about the man except that his name was on the front door. Sometime in late 1978 I came upon a gentleman early one morning who I'd never met before, strolling through the C/D offices, checking out one cubicle after another. Not knowing if this was a new employee, a client or even a thief (the Biltmore was easy pickings for purse-snatchers in those days) I proceeded to approach this snooping stranger with a firm but polite greeting: "Hi, can I help you find something or someone?" His reply: "Hi -- I'm Guy Day. No thanks." If he had any doubts as to whether I was one of the dumb "new kids" I think that encounter answered his question. Mercifully, he never brought it up again.
Posted by: Nick West | January 18, 2010 06:13 PM
I started at C/D after Guy had "left" - though he continued to pop in now and then. We never shared more than a friendly greeting. That isn't to say, however, he did not profoundly impact my life.
From a career perspective, I was born and raised at C/D. It's my home. The people who built it and helped me along the way are like my family. I mourn each passing.
From a life perspective, much that I have I owe to this place - A job that I love (most days, anyway), a home and food on the table for my family, the ability to send my kids to college. I've been places and met people and seen things that, for me, would never have been possible if not for this place and these people.
I know for many it's a job at an agency. I am lucky and thankful that, to me, it's something more.
I am forever grateful to Guy for these things and I am moved by his passing.
Posted by: Greg Holladay | January 19, 2010 06:36 PM
Guy Day
When I joined the agency in 1974 Guy was off writing the great American novel. He was gone but still somehow connected. In 1975 Guy's connections got us into a review for Pacific Southwest Airlines, a large account at that time. Lee Clow, Chuck Silverman, Mal Sharpe and I spent the better part of a week flying all of their route segments and meeting most of their staff and a lot of their passengers. Through these conversations and experiences we developed a strategy and Lee and Chuck created a great campaign (yes, we did spec work). We rehearsed and were ready as we headed down to their headquarters in San Diego the evening before the meeting. We were to meet Guy down there and rehearse his part with him. (I didn't realize at that point that rehearsals weren't Guy's strong point.) We didn't make contact with him that evening and I was worried. The next morning we are all waiting in the conference room, many of the PSA people are already there when Guy finally came in. Lee and I went over to brief him but he said he was "good". He then proceeded to announce to Jay and the assembled masses "Hey Jay, he (me) has the same shoes that (Roger) Livingston wears. At that point everyone laughed and the tension left the room. Guy didn't rehearse because he (better than any of us) knew his role.
We did not win the account. In fact, when they called the Marketing Director said that we had "scared them to death" and that our work should have won but was just to aggressive for them at that point. When pressed by Jay the Marketing /Director indicated that we had come in a distant 7th - out of four agencies. Two years later they began running what was essentially our work - just like Guy had indicated they would.
Posted by: Bill Moreland | January 20, 2010 01:26 PM
Reading all these wonderful reminiscences of Guy Day really took me back. Would that my own memory could be as forthcoming. But anything further back than a week ago Tuesday seems increasingly lost in the mists of time. Except for one vivid remembrance I never forgot--and in Guy's own handwriting:
Guy didn't just know the people he worked with. He knew about them. Cared about them. Knew what made them tick. In November, 1987, during one of Guy's sojourns away from the agency, I got a handwritten note from him on the occasion of my being made a Senior VP. (Yes, Chiat/Day did have such life forms once upon a time). Aware of my natural diffidence and likely reluctance to be a big cheese at the agency, his note read:
"Dear new Sr. VP,
Can't think of anyone who'll enjoy it less. Or deserves it more."
Yrs,
G
In the first instance, he hit the nail on the head. In the second, I can only hope I went on to prove him right.
'Bye Guy. It was so very good knowing you.
Posted by: David Butler | January 21, 2010 01:24 AM