Members of the Club

In some ways, it's hard to imagine copywriter Jeff Goodby and art director Rich Silverstein being inducted into the One Club's Creative Hall of Fame on Wednesday. While it's certainly a deserved tribute for the co-founders of Goodby, Silverstein & Partners, they're as young in their thinking and as energetic as they've ever been, unlike the many previous recipients honored in the twilight of their careers. But then again, the two represent a generation whose legacy is youthful protest of the status quo, so it may be only appropriate that the pony-tailed Goodby, owner of one of the largest rap-CD collections of anyone in advertising, and cycling fanatic Silverstein, whose biking companions include Lance Armstrong, now take their place alongside marbleized legends like Leo Burnett and Bill Bernbach.More seasoned West Coast agency figures like Hal Riney and the late Jay Chiat—whose shops were among the first to epitomize the creative swing away from traditional power centers like New York—have already received Hall of Fame recognition. But it was the thirtysomething Goodby and Silverstein, along with former partner Andy Berlin, who personalized that departure from advertising convention in the mid-'80s for a generation of counterculture peers contemptuous of slick Madison Avenue formulas, gimmicks and production values.Befitting their roots in editorial jobs, the San Francisco-based pair captured the industry's imagination with irreverent work built upon a stripped-down honesty about real life, telling brand stories in the way people actually talk rather than the boilerplate clichés of consumer research. (It's a safe bet that when the word "stuff" first appeared in advertising, it was in work from Goodby.) The two take their inspiration from music, art, movies, newspaper headlines, the irony and silliness of everyday life—typically finding cues in anything but advertising. Goodby, 52, and Silverstein, 54, have come a long way from their one-room, one-phone office in the California Seed building. But the proprietors of a now-$900 million business still share the enthusiasm they had in 1983 when they opened with the tiny Electronic Arts software account. "It was liberating to go figure things out every day," recalls Goodby, "even with the encumbrances of putting out a bunch of money to rent an office and hire people."Goodby creative director Steve Simpson, who describes his bosses as "the least cynical people in advertising," observes that they "come to the job every day like first-graders coming to school—they are still fascinated and still find all the fun of the business."It may be Goodby and Silverstein's own low threshold for boredom that fuels their belief that the best way to engage consumers is through short snippets of entertainment rather than the hard sell. That's a view reflected in the work of fellow Hall of Fame inductees this year, former Ally & Gargano art director Mike Tesch and his copywriter partner, the late Patrick Kelly. (In the late '70s and '80s, the two humanized corporate America with humor—epitomized by the fast-talking FedEx spokesman—helping to make Ally one of the hottest shops of its time.) If Goodby, Berlin & Silverstein's early clients—little-known companies or test brands—were obscure, the shop's work for them quickly won acclaim in the ad world (the agency name would be shortened when Berlin left in 1992.) Campaigns for Heinz Reward dog food and The Mill Valley Film Festival showed an instinct for the kind of plain talk more commonly shared across barstools or the dinner table. The shoestring-budget spots—simple and straightforward, using humor and humanity—broke through the mannered, big-budget ads popular at the time. But the creatives shunned the role of dilettantes, never aiming to see the work preserved in the amber of award-show annuals. Goodby, who says he'd probably be in the film business if he wasn't in advertising, has always been adamant that the agency's advertising be visible and relevant. He urges staffers to think in terms of work that is more akin to Frank Capra's movies, with their laughter and widespread appeal, than small art-house films with subtitles."Jeff and Rich are intelligent populists," says Simpson, a 14-year veteran of the shop who points to the "Got milk?" campaign. "They make the most mainstream products interesting. Take milk: Ten years ago, who would have thought something called the California Milk Processors Board would be the stuff of a showcase account?"Likewise, the agency has transformed the beige image of Hewlett-Packard, created some of the industry's best advertising with the Budweiser lizards and thrived in the perilous dot-com world with campaigns for eBay and former client E*Trade. Goodby has tackled tough assignments, big client organizations and top-spending categories ranging from cars (Saturn, Porsche) to credit cards (Discover), travel (Norwegian Cruise Lines), even packaged goods (Cracker Jacks). "From the start, what was more interesting to them was the confluence of art and business," observes former director of account planning Jon Steel, now vice chairman at Berlin Cameron/Red Cell. "A lot of agencies aspire to business success; a lot of agencies just want to do cool ads. Jeff and Rich feel they're not doing their job properly if they don't do both."That's demonstrated by the agency's trophies: Alongside the shelves of creative honors are 23 Effies, the American Marketing Association's awards for effectiveness in advertising.Combining the worlds of art and commerce has come naturally to partners who have used their opposite natures to fuel their success. "Rich is the nuclear explosion, and Jeff is the radioactive fallout," says Steel. "That describes the way they work, as well as their personalities."Staffers say that while the two may differ in their metabolism, they share the same kind of energy and intensity when it comes to the agency's work. When Silverstein hits the office corridor in the morning—after a 16-mile bike ride from his home in Marin County—staffers know it. He brings the decisive energy, having little patience for those who don't share his vigorous optimism and focus. His response to an idea is immediate—he loves it, or he hates it. That unvarnished reflex can be unsettling to creatives accustomed to diplomatic assessment. Conversely, Goodby is thoughtful and introspective. When he arrives at the office—after rising at dawn to make breakfast for his kids, take them to school, feed his horse and run his dogs—he's more likely to react to an idea with, "Let me think about it" or, "Is it funny enough?""Rich gets all of his best thinking right away—he knows what he likes," says Goodby, whose schedule sometimes involves 2-5 a.m. work sessions, communicating through e-mail. "But I'll sit around, write something, go back and screw around with it, decide it's not a good idea at all and start over again." One of the more curious descriptions of the partnership comes from creative director Jamie Barrett, who compares them to musical duo Daryl Hall and John Oates. "One guy is tall with long, blondish hair and does most of the lead singing; the other guy is short with dark hair and seems pretty intense," he observes. "Somehow, they make pretty cool music together. It's not like Jeff and Rich are constantly talking about everything—it's more of an unspoken thing. Like good musicians, they riff off each other. You get the feeling that despite their outward differences, they're always in sync."Silverstein describes the relationship in similar terms: "We are black and white, oil and water, yet we see things in totally the same way. Our shared standards are: God is in the details." The two were still new to advertising when they met in 1980, working on the Oakland A's "Billyball" campaign at Ogilvy & Mather, San Francisco, the predecessor to Riney's shop. Goodby had landed in the city after marrying a Californian, moving West from his job as a political reporter in Boston. Unable to find a newspaper post, the Harvard grad decided to pursue advertising. He was good at drawing—with illustrations published in Time and Mother Jones—and design, and developed sample ads and a two-page autobiography that served as a résumé. He landed a job at J. Walter Thompson, then was recruited away by Riney.Silverstein also came from the East, traveling cross-country in his VW Beetle after graduating from the Parsons School of Design in Manhattan. He worked in editorial design—including a stint as art director at Rolling Stone—before talking himself into a three-month trial at Bozell & Jacobs. That turned into a longer gig and led to jobs at McCann-Erickson, Foote Cone & Belding and eventually Ogilvy.He and Goodby credit Riney as their formative mentor. (For his part, Riney sums up their contribution to advertising by saying simply, "They're two of the most talented guys I know." No doubt he's saving more thoughts for his introduction at the Hall of Fame ceremonies in New York.) In turn, Silverstein and Goodby are proud of the many former staffers they've inspired to strike out on their own.Predating Riney, their stints at newspapers and magazines remain a strong influence. The two share an obsession with current events and scandals like the O.J. Simpson trial."We've never strayed from our editorial roots," says Silverstein. "We're fascinated with humanity—there's a story in everything." The larger culture seems equally taken with their work. Goodby still giggles at the moment when he realized just how much "Got milk?" had resonated: One day he noticed a sign reading, "Got porn?" at a sex shop.The ability to not take themselves too seriously belies the contribution Goodby and Silverstein have made to advertising. "It's pretty amazing how resilient both of them are, particularly as a team," says Goodby alum Grant Richards, co-creative director at San Francisco's Grant, Scott & Hurley. "They've been doing great work for 20 years, and they've sustained a creative agency over that period. That's an incredible dynasty."Unlike many of those past One Club honorees whose careers were winding down, the Goodby founders are scheduling their usual round of new-business pitches, brainstorming sessions, shoots and client meetings around their New York trip. Not that it's any ordinary evening for them."It reaffirms all the hard work and grief of building a business," says Silverstein. "It shows a respect for the partnership and confirmation of all the stuff we believe in."Goodby is also thrilled, but true to nature, is still thinking about it: "I don't know. It makes you feel you're old enough to do this."

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Noreen O'Leary

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Noreen O'Leary