When I started my career as a Mad Man in the ad biz a million years ago (1968), there were no computers, no Internet, no online stock photo sites. We didn’t have cell phones, or fax machines, or email. There was no such thing as Photoshop, or Illustrator. Our version of Photoshop was a real, live retoucher, and our Illustrator was, well, an actual illustrator.
We did have deadlines though, so, how did we manage to meet those deadlines without the technology we have today? I still marvel at how we did it.
Here’s how the process worked for a Mad Man nearly fifty years ago to get a magazine ad from concept to publication:
Back then a Mad Man art director and copywriter worked together concepting the ad. Ideas were scribbled on yellow pads, and you would hear “I got it!” at least a half-dozen times during the process. Once a couple of good ideas were decided upon, rough layouts were hand drawn on tissue pads. When they were approved by the Creative Director, finished comps were laboriously assembled by extremely talented art directors who could draw almost anything — including the typeface of choice — and would show the headline – perfectly presented in Baskerville Bold, or Helvetica, or whatever. They would illustrate what the photo should look like, and perfectly replicate the client’s logo on the bottom. Copywriters struggled not only to write brilliant copy, but also to make sure it would fit into the layout their art director partner created. At the larger agencies, photostats of the initial rough concepts and typed copy were sent to the proofreaders — who constantly admonished copywriters about grammar issues. Then, the attorneys got hold of it and sent back notes advising that everything written and shown was fodder for potential fines from the FCC, or lawsuits from the clients’ competitors.
Once everyone at the agency agreed on the concepts, then the fun began. We had to show the client. That part of the process is very similar to how it works today, except that then, you couldn’t email a pdf of the concepts, you had mount the concepts on boards and meet with the client to present them. Just like today, sometimes the client rejected our ideas, or were real nitpickers, so back to the drawing board we went. But unlike today, where changing a headline takes a few minutes, we had to cover up the original headline, and re-draw the new one, hoping it would fit. All too often, changes in addition to the headline called for comps to be recreated from scratch. Then, back we’d go to the client with the revised concepts.
When the ad concept and copy was finally approved, a typed sheet of the copy was marked up by the art director, indicating the font, size, leading, etc. and sent to the Typographer. The next day, an envelope would arrive with repro proofs of the copy, ready to be pasted into the mechanical. Well, ready if the art director ordered the right size, and speced it to flush left, instead of justified. If the type had to be reset, it usually took another day to get new repros. At the same time, the photo session was scheduled, with models selected and locations confirmed. When the transparencies arrived from the photographer, the china markers came out and the winning shot was marked up with pimples circled, wavy lines showing wrinkles to be removed, and instructions written all over it for the retoucher to do his magic. Most of the time, the result of the retouching was amazing. But, sometimes, the chemicals in the dyes the retoucher used caused horrific discolorations to appear on the transparency, making the small, hardly noticeable pimple on the model’s face look like she just got hit with a Muhammad Ali left hook. The retoucher blamed the photographer’s developing process, the photographer then threatened the retoucher’s life, the account executive blamed the art director for his choice of retoucher, and everyone’s ulcers grew by leaps and bounds. Somehow, all the disasters worked out and the ad was ready to be assembled.
All the elements went to the mechanical (or paste-up) artist. He, or she, cut a white illustration board to size, taped it to the drawing board, got out the T-square, triangle and Rapidograph and drew the rule around the ad, and began pasting a photostat of the photo, the headline and body copy and the logo onto the board, to match the layout. When it was finished, a tissue was taped over it to keep it clean, and also to allow the client to mark it up, indicating things to be changed. The mechanical was taken to the client, and even if only reasonable revisions were necessary, it meant another round at the typographer and more time with the paste-up artist.
Then, after all this, the approved mechanical and transparency went to the engraver to have copper plates made for release to the publications. We’d get a set of progressive proofs from the engraver — showing the ad printed in each of the four process colors individually, as well as the complete proof. We’d check to make sure the colors were correct and if color correction were required, back we’d go for another round. When we liked the progs, a set was delivered to the client for final approval. Most of the time, the client would agree and then, we could finally release the plates to the publication and wait with bated breath to see our work in the magazine a couple of months later.
We never thought about all the steps and the time it took to get an ad concepted, written, photographed, retouched, assembled, engraved and then approved, because that was all we knew. That was the process. Back then, we were always rushed, and deadlines always loomed, just like today. But without computers and emails and smartphones, everyone knew you needed many days, more like weeks, to bring a project from start to finish.
So, if you’re thinking how insane it must have been to be a Mad Man and do print advertising all those years ago, I guess it was. But the truth is, it could have been a lot worse. Like what we had to do to get a television commercial produced.
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