Points of Light
This is one of those stories that perhaps should be left untold.
The sad little secret of this business is that not all direct marketers end up rich.
Wage slaves may be assured of at least some semblance of a comfortable retirement, but the risks are enormous for those who strike out on their own.
I can recall several one-time service bureau owners and copywriters who ended up sick and struggling.
It’s a particular affliction of copywriters, who like pro fighters know either feast or famine. As the old middleweight champ Ben Jeby once said, “The fighters die broke and the managers die broke.”
And that’s where the good part of the story comes in.
This is a generous business — at least among the people who helped create it.
Take Marty Edelston of Boardroom, who rescued one of the great copywriters of our time — Mel Martin. I can mention Mel because he died almost 10 years ago.
Mel, already in his 50s, was unemployed and up against it in 1975. Marty took him on, buying the rough equivalent of 25% of his time. Soon it was up to 50%, and then to 100%.
Of course, it was a good bargain. Mel wrote some of the greatest direct mail copy of all time for Boardroom, including those memorable pieces that featured lines like “What never to eat on a plane” and “What never to tell the IRS.”
Mel’s loyalty to Marty was so fierce that he spurned outside offers. And when he got sick, Marty personally arranged his healthcare.
I know of another great copywriter whose health is shot. The tragedy is that he can no longer write. Maybe it’s time for a fund.
Yes, it can be a cold-hearted business. Every day, we hear about some bean-counter cutting hundreds of jobs. But I have also seen the other side of it.
I’ve seen the personal loyalty of people who move together from job to job, sharing their lives and careers.
I have seen the kindness of people like Andi Emerson, Lee Epstein and Bill Jayme. When Bob DeLay retired as president of the DMA and started a newsletter, Bill came up to him at a conference and said, “You’ve done a lot for all of us, and now I’m going to do something for you.” He wrote Bob’s direct mail letter free.
It could be that this is a generational thing. The small, close-knit group that partied at conferences in 1960 and faced the everlasting hostility of Madison Avenue knew the value of togetherness.
If so, it’s something to emulate.
