Advertising and media in Hollywood movies?
In the 1976 movie “Network,” Faye Dunaway won the Best Actress in the Oscars for her explosive portrayal of a ratings-obsessed producer. The top-grossing movie told about abuses inside television networks.
“Mad Men” is the long-running TV drama about “madvertising” people. It is highly acclaimed for its truthful delineation of real characters that inhabit the world of advertising.
“Mad Men” is about an intricate web of manipulation woven by men and women who prowl inside the walls of a prestigious ad agency in Madison Avenue, the famous street in New York.
When 20 ad agencies sprouted in that part of the Big Apple in 1861, Madison became synonymous to the American advertising industry.
Some of these ad agencies went on to become big multinational brands. With Madison as a glamorous address their value increased and the street became the hub of the American 4A’s.
Across the Pacific and after the war, a street in Malate, Manila, was beginning to resemble Madison.
Vito Cruz, now Pablo Ocampo Street, was a virtual advertising row, a “Pinoy Madison Avenue,” says Greg Macabenta in his soon-to-be-launched book, “How to Make a Benta.”
Vito Cruz played host to a number of local ad agencies that were brands by themselves owing to the number of important clients they do business with.
Grant Advertising was the queen on that street, handling most, if not all Colgate-Palmolive products and other top accounts like Kodak, Ajinomoto and Philippine Plaza Hotel (now Sofitel).
The agency eventually became Bates-Alcantara, rebranded as Dentsu, Young & Rubicam, and finally repackaged as Y&R when the Alcantaras sold out to the former.
Just three houses away was the Tony Cantero-owned The Group, which honed many outstanding creative people in the years to come.
Toward Roxas, Philprom, owned by industry pioneer Pete Teodoro, lorded it over and was considered one of the top shops in terms of billings.
Admakers occupied a heritage house just off Vito Cruz until it transferred to Balete Drive in Quezon City.
QSV (Quiambao, Soriano and de Venecia, yes, the former Speaker of the House, Jose), located just across Rizal Memorial Coliseum, was aggressive and had the budget-rich Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office business.
Right close to Manila Hotel, J. Walter Thompson held office in Mary Bachrach building, whom many gossiped as having nightly paranormal occupants.
The Manila Hotel lobby was the place to be seen and rub elbows with admen. “It was the equivalent of today’s watering holes at Shangri-La and Manila Pen where businessmen held luncheon meetings, sipped coffee, and acted important,” recalls Macabenta.
Before the invasion of multinationals in Manila, there were the formidable locals: Pacifica Publicity Bureau, Reach, Link, Avellana, Tactica, Summit, Commerce, Advance, Ideas, Nation-Ad, Asia-Com, Asia-West, Comstrat, Motivators, Compedge, Mascom, Mojica, de la Paz and Roy, Nancy Harel, Aviacom, among others.
Ace Advertising, before it became Ace Compton was in chic Escolta.
Macabenta’s memoirs of the Madisonization of Manila details his personal anecdotes, lectures and articles from real Filipino advertising battlegrounds, unlike most ad books we know that use foreign case studies.
Punning his “Macabenta” name, which literally means “to make a sale,” the writer, jingle-maker, radio and TV producer, cartoonist, account executive, creative director, patriot, former Philippine 4A’s president, Ad Congress chairman and CEO of AMA, gives us a style with a large dose of humor, solid with “insights drawn from campaigns that are considered classics in Philippine advertising.”
Greg Garcia III, former chairman and ECD of Leo Burnett Manila, describes it as “the definitive book on Philippine advertising as seen and lived by Greg.”
Macabenta also gives tribute to the almost forgotten drillmaster, one of the country’s legends in advertising and founding chairman of Asian Federation of Advertising Association (AFAA), Antonio de Joya.
Macabenta rebukes younger colleagues in the industry with no sense of history, calling it “such an irony.”
De Joya spearheaded the country in the Philippine and Asian advertising zenith. He set up Ace Advertising, forerunner of Ace-Saatchi.
He founded AMA using “The Total Approach” philosophy long before the advertising jargon “integrated, 360-degree campaign” became cool to flaunt in creative briefs.
De Joya was also a brilliant copywriter who penned a Philippine copywriting classic, “A little can buy a lot,” for Sta. Mesa Heights, one of the earliest upscale subdivisions in Greater Manila.
In his book, Macabenta walks down in history and remembers when Filipro needed a hardworking PR group.
He recalls how Filipro hired AMA to handle sensitive government lobbying.
The relationship paved the way for the entry of Swiss-company Nestle in the Philippines and thus began one of the longest and most envied Manila client-agency relationships in marketing.
Macabenta consummates the entire golden era of AMA in one engaging book, including the launching of “One World of Nescafe” and “Great Cities of the World” campaigns where he partnered with Nestle’s marketing honcho Levi Castillo.
The book described it as “undoubtedly, the most successful ever mounted for a coffee brand in the Philippines.”
Macabenta details how Milo toppled a seemingly unstoppable market leader, Ovaltine, and how AMA became a round-the-clock “Milo Olympic Energy” ad agency.
“How to Make a Benta” includes hard-to-find dissertations and best practices documents – all very Pinoy case studies, step-by-step teachings in advertising, especially the hard way – when computers and digital age were zilch and all the agency had were Pinoy guts, ingenuity, hard work and nothing more.
Full of punchlines and replete with witticisms in most of the paragraphs of the entire book, Macabenta takes us to a joyful, poignant, revealing, absorbing read.
His commentary on the Filipino diaspora is one such. Every Filipino who has left his country to look for the proverbial American dream should read it.
The book also chronicles the setting up of AMA USA after the assassination of Ninoy Aquino brought uncertainties in the mid-’80s and clients eased down on spending.
When it did, Joselito de Joya, Antonio de Joya’s eldest son, planted the seeds in America together with his wife, Julie. The two “literally had to be a Task Force Total Approach.” Lito, being president, was also AE, copywriter, producer, an occasional videographer and media director.
Julie, a former Ateneo school teacher, multi-tasked as production manager, caster, make-up artist, video editor, credit collector and bookkeeper.
When the elder De Joya died, Lito came back to the Philippines to head the agency. He and Macabenta switched roles. The latter retired and manned the US operations.
(To be continued)