Minneapolis’ own mad men – and women – experienced their own golden era in the late 1960s and early ’70s.
In the sixth season of “Mad Men,” which winds up Sunday, the action leading up to the Summer of Love has gotten as loosey-goosey as the dress code. Gray flannel suits, Brylcreemed hair and Old-Fashioneds have been ditched for wide lapels, sideburns and speedball shots.
The year is 1968 — a time when Minneapolis was experiencing its own wild and crazy advertising revolution. Progressive agencies such as Martin Williams, Knox Reeves and Carmichael Lynch challenged the buttoned-down office culture of local kingpin Campbell Mithun (which got a mention on “Mad Men” a couple of seasons back).
Minneapolis agencies were so cutting-edge that they attracted the eyes and ears of Manhattan big guns to flyoverland. We spoke with several of that scene’s players to get a feel for how much their world did and didn’t resemble that of Sterling Cooper & Partners.
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Lee Lynch recalls producing a TV spot — his fledgling agency’s first — with Twins pitcher Camilo Pascual for a car dealer celebrating its anniversary. The client had no money for production costs, so it was shot for free in the WTCN (pre-KARE) studio while the station aired Mel Jass’ matinee movie. The deal was, once the movie was over, so was the shoot.
Pascual showed up too late to rehearse. After flubbing his lines — with Cuban Spanish as his native tongue, he had a hard time enunciating all the consonants in “Chrysler” and “Plymouth” — he attempted to blow out the candle on a birthday cake, and missed. “He looked up with the dumbest ‘What do I know?’ look on his face,” Lynch recalls.
The spot ran as it was. “People kept calling up the next day, thinking it was great,” Lynch said. “They wanted to know how in the world we got Pascual to do that, and that’s how we made our rep.”
Roger Sterling: “They say once you start drinking alone, you’re an alcoholic. I’m really trying to avoid that.”
Don Draper: “So I guess I’m helping both of us.”
At favorite hangouts Charlie’s, Harry’s, Murray’s, the Rosewood Room and Schieks, the three-martini lunch was, indeed, a staple diet.
“We drank when we got business, and we drank when we lost business, and we were doing one or the other all the time,” Lynch said. “You didn’t dare meet with some creatives in the morning because then they drank all afternoon, and the next day they wouldn’t remember what you said.”
One day an account exec brought in a new client to meet Fred Webber, “and I was slumped over my desk, out cold,” he said. Allen Fahden, a vice president at several agencies, remembers “so many mornings you’d come in and there would be people sleeping on the couches in the conference room.”
Unlike the vicious battles for clients on the TV show, the rivalry among Minneapolis agencies remained somewhat friendly.
“Once we lost Bill Hogan, one of our key guys, to Bozell Jacobs,” Lynch said. “He had a beard down to his belly and hair down to his crack, so he cut them both and bought a sport coat to smarten up his image. When he left his apartment for his first day there, we kidnapped him. We put him in a burlap bag filled with chicken feathers and dumped him in the Bozell lobby. The creative director had to come in and cut him out of the bag. He thought it was funny. Bill didn’t, but he still came back to us a year later.”
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