Well, here we are. I’m sitting in an office on the 37th floor of a
Manhattan skyscraper, chatting to a man I didn’t even know existed last
week about the bottle on his table containing Ragu pasta sauce. And all
because Andrew Cracknell quit Ammirati Puris Lintas last month.
Here’s some background. Cracknell, APL’s chairman, was appointed three
years ago to restore the agency’s creative credentials. With him gone,
William Eccleshare, the chief executive, stepped up to take the chair,
while the managing director, Chris Thomas, moved into the chief exec’s
seat (Campaign, 25 September). Interviewed three weeks ago, Eccleshare
insisted the agency would still be the ’significant’ force within the
five years allotted - three years ago - by the worldwide chief
executive, Martin Puris. But Eccleshare also admitted the agency’s
creative product and new-business record needed attention.
So nobody exactly fell off their seats when APL announced last week the
appointment of a new creative hot shot. Steve Rabosky had been granted
the title of chief creative officer and was coming in over the head of
the executive creative director, Nick Welch (Campaign, last week).
But Rabosky was American, and reaction to his appointment in London was
at best, luke-warm, at worst, positively hostile. The news revived
memories of another non-Brit shipped in to reinvigorate the agency in
London: Al Crew, the Australian appointed in 1994 who resigned two years
later.
Rumour-mongers in the industry suggested that Puris, frustrated by poor
creative product (and himself under pressure from Phil Geier,
Interpublic’s chief executive) had forced Rabosky on to the agency. But
Thomas - who’s enjoyed close working relationships with senior creatives
such as Tom Carty and Walter Campbell among others at Abbott Mead
Vickers BBDO - denies this. He was hugely impressed by Rabosky at a
meeting in New York, and says he had to fight hard to prise the man away
from Puris. ’I knew I had met the person who could support the
department after Andrew left,’ he explains.
Either way, the reason for APL’s new appointment became clear on the day
of our meeting. Yet another Unilever account, it was announced, was
leaving the agency. Rabosky had been called in at short notice to help
on the pitch - hence the jar on the table - but too late. Unilever has
not been getting the creative work it wanted from its core agency, and
Ragu became the latest in a series of brands snatched away to be brought
back to life by others such as Ogilvy & Mather, Bartle Bogle Hegarty,
Mother and HHCL & Partners.
But in London, the reaction to his appointment went something like this:
Steve who? He’s obviously pretty miffed by this and you can see why. In
the US, he’s long enjoyed the industry’s respect. ’I didn’t expect
anybody over there to know who the hell I was,’ he says.
’There’s no reason why they should. (But) I am a bit surprised they are
making such a fuss about an American coming over.’
There’s no doubt Rabosky has fantastic credentials. Even if they haven’t
heard his name, doubters in London will be familiar with his work. After
humble beginnings as a copywriter in California, he became executive
creative director and managing partner under Lee Clow at TBWA Chiat/Day
in Venice, California. In 13 years, Rabosky worked on many of the
agency’s key accounts, including Apple and Nike. His reel - which
contains many of the celebrated pink bunny commercials for Energizer -
is quirky enough to appeal to a UK market. And he’s won stacks of
awards.
More than that, he’s tough. Nick Welch - charming, whimsical and
gentlemanly - is said by colleagues to be too nice to knock heads
together. Rabosky is another matter: look at his piercing blue eyes and
closely cropped head, and you’ll know what I mean. He speaks his mind,
those who know him say. As Eccleshare puts it: ’I get the sense this guy
would take no shit from anybody. He has that absolute single-minded
conviction that the only thing that matters is the creative work and
that he knows exactly what is right for the work and what isn’t.’
MT Rainey, Rainey Kelly Campbell Roalfe’s planning partner who worked
with Rabosky a decade ago at Chiat/Day, agrees: ’The agency needs Steve
Rabosky more than Steve Rabosky needs the agency. I don’t think it
matters that people haven’t heard of him. The cultural differences are
significant, but of all the American agencies, Chiat/Day has the same
standards and beliefs. He’s spiky enough to be a proper creative
director, not a gentleman creative. He has a passion for a great
job.’
He’s also interested in promoting talent rather than his own ego, says a
former Chiat/Day colleague, David Lubars, now creative director at
Fallon McElligott. ’I worked for him when I was a young copy cub. He’s
patient if he thinks you’re good. I learned a lot from him. He’s not a
self-promoter, he’s a quiet, reticent personality - he’s known as a very
thoughtful, measured, smart creative strategist - but if you look at the
first wave of Apple material, he did the bulk of it.’
Until recently, Rabosky has led a charmed life, but the past year has
been stressful. In 1997, he quit Chiat/Day to establish a Los Angeles
office for Chicago’s the Leap Partnership.
But the agency did not thrive and Rabosky was dismissed after just nine
months. He launched a lawsuit against the agency for dollars 500,000
(his annual salary), charging breach of contract, fraud and libel.
Disillusioned, he semi-retired, opting to freelance as and when he felt
like it - until Puris offered him a worldwide creative job. He saw it as
a challenge and for the past six months has been offering his experience
to APL offices around the world.
Currently he commutes between New York and Los Angeles to spend weekends
with his young family (hence the tan, which makes him look, with
open-necked shirt and stone-coloured jeans, just a little younger than
his 45 years).
But what can possibly interest him in this job? ’I am excited for two
reasons,’ he says. ’Firstly, I met Chris Thomas and we hit it off on a
personal level. And then I found out he was the account man on the Volvo
work that Tony Kaye shot a couple of years ago. That ’twister’
commercial is one of my favourites of the past decade. I’ve met very few
account people that have the energy and the passion for the creative
work. Secondly, I’ve always looked at London as being the most creative
community in the advertising business.’ Which seems, all things
considered, a jolly gracious compliment.
Before falling into advertising, Rabosky studied journalism as a
graduate.
But he ’didn’t like talking to people enough’ to consider it as a
serious career.
So will he address his scanty appreciation of contemporary English
culture?
He certainly doesn’t know much about it - and what he does seems to be
based on swift glimpses of daytime TV (which, characteristically
straight-talking, he pronounces rubbish). Rainey recommends caution,
however. ’He will be a big success as long as he meets the task with
moderation and doesn’t go mad. He’s more than capable of bringing high
standards and drive, as long as he does not dictate the content.’
But Rabosky doesn’t think being American will pose problems. Ads, he
argues, are almost totally transportable: ’I look at the work I respect
out of London and 99 per cent could have run here. I’m sure there are
some colloquialisms about the culture I may need to learn and I might
need somebody to screen my words. But I am a hands-on creative
person.’
That comes across. He’s nuts about creative work and you can see why
Thomas was smitten. ’If you just focus on the work all the other good
things happen - the agency will grow, you’ll get new business, you’ll
make more money, you’ll be able to pay people bonuses. Creative work is
the whole agency.’
