Last month, I had to shoot a photograph in the rustic part of Connecticut for a promotion. It was a cool and beautiful Saturday.
At lunch I drove around the area looking for a spot to eat. There on the side road was Marvin’s Kosher Delicatessen next to Farmer Jones country store. It was an amazing contrast.
I felt like having a pastrami on rye and a celery soda so I pulled up and walked into Marvin’s. Wow, it felt like I was on New York’s West Side, with the hanging fat salamis and the sawdust on the floor. It was an exact copy.
The place was busy, but I was lucky to find a seat in the corner. The menu had a gigantic Marvin’s logo done in Coca Cola-type lettering. It was so big, I had to stretch my arms out to see it.
Inside, there were Marvin’s salami & eggs, Marvin’s pastrami special, Marvin’s frankfurter surprise, and many other gourmet delights. Looking around, Marvin’s was all over the place. It was on the mirror, the ashtrays, on the waiters’ T-shirts, even on the men’s bathroom door.
Out of the kitchen came a stocky man in a T-shirt and apron. I couldn’t believe it. My friend Marvin was coming toward me to take my order. Marvin was an award-winning art director at a promotion agency in New York. What was he doing with this delicatessen?
He saw me and said: “Hey, Bern, what are you doing in this neck of the woods?” I answered: “I’m shooting a photo a couple of miles from here. Hey, what’s this place? I see you have a weekend business.”
“Yep, it’s some place, isn’t it? I decided to do this last winter,” he said.
“I designed the place, the logo, the menus, and the direct mail. It’s really pulling in customers. Originally I was only going to be open on weekends, but it’s doing so great, I hired help to handle the store during weekdays while I’m in New York.”
Marvin went to the counter and brought over one of his direct mail pieces. It was 11 by 17 inches when opened and folded to fit a number 10 envelope. It said, “Marvin’s Delicatessen for hungry people.” His logo was the width of the whole sheet. It was enormous, almost bleeding off. The copy in the rest of the piece was in 72-point type. It talked about a sweepstakes where customers could enter and win free pastrami for a year.
“Marvin, you did this? It’s not your style. You’re known for clean, simple, sophisticated sales promotions with lots of white space. Sometimes you don’t even put the client’s logo in them.”
“Well, you know Bern, when it’s your own business, you do things you would never do for someone else. I want to attract customers. I want people to remember Marvin’s and mention it to other people. The things I do in New York are different. There I want to win awards, so I do work using lots of the client’s money. It’s not my money. I don’t care if their logo is in fly-speck size or in the job at all.
“But my money is different. I try to spend as little as possible. I don’t care about awards here.”
“But Marv,” I said, “your clients want to attract customers to their product, too, right?”
“Bernie, who cares! Maybe if I had stock in some of my client’s corporations, I’d feel differently. But I don’t. So I have to think of myself.”
Marvin sat and whispered: “Look, the point I’m making is, if I win awards in New York, I can be famous and ask for more money. Isn’t that what all creative people think of? Besides, the clients love to go to these award shows and have a good time!”
I said, “Marv, you work on some big accounts. They’re public. So buy stock in their companies, and you can have the same attitude that you have for your own deli.”
“Bern, I couldn’t afford it. All my money is in this place. If this store does the business I think it can do, I’ll quit the promo business. I can see it all now . . . Marvin’s drive-ins open all around the country. I can see Marvin’s frozen hot-dogs and Marvin’s frozen pastrami in all the supermarkets. And, Bern, then I’ll go public. I might even hire your agency to do my promotion campaigns. Hey, I gotta take some orders, have you decided what you want? I recommend the special, Marvin’s herring in cream sauce.”
I ordered my pastrami on rye and a celery soda.
A half-hour later, as I rode back to the location, I thought about Marvin and it made me jealous. Suddenly, I saw visions of Bernie’s Pizza Shops in all the malls across America, with my name on every pizza box. Wow!
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