I started in the mailroom...is that even still a thing?

An ad agency legend took a shine to my dad, then hired his underperforming high school kid, sight unseen, for a job in the mailroom. White privilege, for sure, but I'm grateful to both of them.

My friends in the advertising business would likely say I started my career in AdLand at Geer DuBois in 1979. And that’s technically correct.

But I got my first taste of the business ten years earlier as a messenger and mail boy at Ted Bates Advertising on Fifth Avenue.

A life-changing summer job

My dad was head of research and development for Continental Baking Company in suburban New York. That’s him in trade ad from the mid-60’s:

With no family money, he put himself through Bowdoin, MIT and Penn State, always working multiple jobs, studying chemical engineering and plant nutrition up through his PhD.

After several food industry jobs around the country he had a 15-year run at Continental running and expanding its R&D lab and developing new food and production technology along with new products for Hostess Snacks, Wonder Bread, and Morton “TV Dinners” and donuts.

Ted liked “seeing the future” through my dad

While the Bates account and creative teams handled the marketing and ad duties, Ted was more interested in hanging out with “Doctor Cotton” and learning where the food business was headed—emerging categories, new food concepts and flavors, and the new technologies behind how they were made and prepared at home, including radical new gizmos like toaster ovens and microwave ovens.

Like me, Ted probably saw his first microwave (called “Radar Ranges”) in the lab. It was massive and thrilled me as a little boy, but not as much as the next Twinkies or Sno-Balls dad would bring home for my brother and me to try.

Out of trouble…into advertising?

I’d gotten myself into trouble in high school and repeated 9th grade—more for disciplinary action than my bad grades—and the Bates job was likely my dad’s attempt to put me onto the straight and narrow. I was lucky I didn’t have to interview for the job since, to quote my future father-in-law’s description of 60’s long-hairs, I looked like I’d “jumped out of a tree.”

I quickly learned that muggers made more than messengers

My best friend in the mailroom packed a Saturday Night Special in one pants pocket and a roll of cash in another. His roll got fatter during lunch breaks by mugging well-to-do ladies down the block coming out of MoMA.

For a sheltered kid from the suburbs, this was absolutely thrilling, but purely a post-game spectator sport for me.

I fell in love with the business—and the people in it

The creative and rebellious energy of the advertising business grabbed me early. Bates people were fun, eclectic, profane, creative. It was pure Mad Men, and felt more like play than work.

I started my life-long Advertising Age reading habit, hung out in the music studio, dated a few city girls, and continued to work there for the rest of my high school years every school holiday and summer vacation.

And while not as lucrative as mugging ladies who lunched, it paid off by immersing me in a creative business that became my professional calling.

Ted Bates moves to Times Square

After high school graduation I worked schlepping valuables during the agency’s move to 1515 Broadway in the heart of Times Square. It was still a gritty, porn-heavy neighborhood only just starting to change. (I wish I could credit the photographer of the below shot…this was the vibe…)

The City was committed to the “urban renewal” of Times Square, and 1515 went up where down-in-the-heels Hotel Astor had just been razed.

The Bates relo was a radical departure from Fifth Avenue and, no surprise, it raised a few client eyebrows. We were the first agency to move into the neighborhood, and the first tenants to move into the building. 1515 didn’t officially open for another year, but the City subsidized the rent, the landlord was desperate for their first tenant, and we were desperate for more office space.

Crime was beginning to decline, and the PR didn’t seem likely to hurt the agency. (If this sounds familiar, dear reader, the Bates move predates the 1981 Geer DuBois relo I wrote about a few weeks ago.)

Crime wasn’t dead yet, and some of my friends got hurt.

As the move approached, my friend Francine was nervous. I thought she was over-reacting, but she knew better. She was beaten and robbed, 10 feet from the entryway, as she approached the building on Day One. And she was not the only victim.

But the agency hung in as Times Square began its turn into the garish tourist destination it is today, the second-most visited public space in the world (behind Tiananmen Square in Beijing.) That’s 1515 below on the left, and the Marriott Marquis on the right:

Twenty years later, it came full circle for me—I ended up in a corner office at 1515 when my agency at the time, Backer & Spielvogel, merged with Ted Bates—a “minnow swallows a whale” story for a later post.

A belated thank you to Ted Bates and my dad

I’m sure I never thanked my father amply for the exposure he gave me to the business that I’ve made a career of. And I certainly never thanked Ted Bates appropriately–he retired before the Times Square relocation and died three years later. I always wondered what he thought about that move.

Meeting Ted

I only met “Mr. Bates” once.

Early that first summer, the mailroom boss told me I’d be called upstairs to meet Mr. Bates “any day,” which gave me low-burn agita for the two months I had to wait for my audience. (It had the all-too-familiar feel of an impending trip to the principal’s office.)

The last week of summer I was suddenly called up to his smoky, mahogany-heavy office. I remember shaking as I sat across his huge desk, paranoid about my hippie-vibe and how I’d answer his questions.

I’m sure he was NOT impressed

He was a friendly gentleman, of course, but I can’t recall any of the conversation—mostly his impressive baritone, deep tan, dapper suit, and extensive array of family pictures behind him.

Many thanks to you, Ted, for taking me on, and most importantly, to you, Dad, for asking him. That was a risky ask—it took love and guts for you to hit Ted up for me.

Never forget that connections and relationships matter

I retained a big lesson from all this: If someone can help you, insider or white privilege notwithstanding, take them up on it. Never turn down a friend or family member volunteering to make a connection for you or introduce you to someone. NO ONE is “above” accepting help.

Don’t be afraid to ASK for help, either

Nurturing your professional relationships is not only life-expanding and enjoyable—it is an investment in yourself and your career that will pay off in ways you can’t predict.

It’s a weird and tough employment world out there. My advice to young people I talk to about their careers is this: Your connections are your most valuable commodity. Embrace and leverage them, every step of the way.

I’m still asking for help today

A few months ago, my friend Mark Gumz, whom I met professionally over 40 years ago, connected me to a peer of his who could help to me in the digital media start up I’m a part of. Mark volunteered the connection after I filled him on on my venture.

This only happened because we have each valued, enjoyed and maintained our professional-turned-personal relationship since 1984. And it only happened because I was grateful for Mark’s help.

We are living examples of “network nurture,” and of never being afraid to ask a friend for advice or an introduction.

Did someone make an important connection for you?

If so, what’s your story?

Notes & Sources

[Ted Bates Advertising Hall of Fame bio] http://advertisinghall.org/members/member_bio.php?memid=534

https://www.6sqft.com/pepsodent-camel-and-yashica-ads-and-architecture-in-old-times-square/

https://www.dropbox.com/s/i8hnt5froh4ygpo/Screenshot%202025-01-22%20at%205.04.52%E2%80%AFPM.png?dl=0

https://seeoldnyc.com/new-york-city-1960s/