Post Top Ad

6:00 AM

Brand Awareness

by , in

Go Bold or Go Home

Years ago, as an in-house marketing director I was challenged by my boss to significantly grow our public sector business. The company at the time vended services to state-level human services agencies, our target. Our challenge was that this was a market dominated by much larger competitors.

It was difficult to compete with them on recognition and name awareness.

In addition to battling competitors twice our size, we had an additional problem of name recognition. Commercial relationships ran deep, and a contract in this sector was like the gift that keeps giving. Incumbents rarely lost when they re-competed existing service agreements. Especially when the competition was virtually unknown.

 After some time studying the problem I discovered that while incumbents tended to win back their own work there was one issue that might provide an opening into this market segment. It seemed that the big boys at times could be unresponsive to customer requests. At other times, less than forthcoming with the customers.

The issue for us was how to leverage that behavior to our advantage in order to increase name recognition for the little kid on the block.

Here’s the solution I came up with:

We took a sponsorship with an annual conference that was attended by the agency managers that were our target customer. We sponsored a breakfast for these attendees.

Simple enough.

But our key move would be to hire a professional impersonator. And not just any impersonator. One that specialized in impersonating former President Richard Nixon.

Most of the target audience were long-time government staffers and had vivid recollections of the 37th president—who had had his own troubles with responsiveness and forthcoming issues.

I wrote the script for the actor, whose name I forget.  The script was seeded with typical Nixonian gags, including a hidden tape recorder. 

The morning of the speech I went to the impersonator’s hotel room to bring him down for a last-minute rehearsal. When the door opened I saw Richard Nixon—in full makeup, including the putty ski-jump nose—standing there in his briefs.

I’m probably one of the few people ever to have seen Nixon in his tighty whiteys.

As the breakfast sponsor we were allowed to give a little sales pitch. Rather than drone on in corporate speak, we introduced with great fanfare and flourish the “President,” who made his grand entrance through the banquet hall working the crowd on his way to the podium.

The speech was a rousing success. People not only started recognizing us in the market. They recognized us as young, bold and creative—a company willing to think outside the box for their customers.

Most importantly the company grew as a result of the event. The number of clients we served grew to over a million. Revenues doubled. Within a few years we had sold the company to a leading private equity firm for a healthy multiple.

I thought of that recently when I read a more recent PR case study of tax preparer H&R Block.

The study focused on how H&R Block raised its public profile with the 20 to 34 year-old male consumers that nearly all consumer product companies covet. 

In 2012 Block was a nearly 60-year old company with a solid track record as a tax preparer.  However, Internet-savvy millennials by that time had started gravitating to online tax preparation. The problem for Block was that its reputation at the time was that of  “your father’s tax preparer.” e-commerce was not something that Gen Y consumers associated with H&R Block.

Kansas City-based Block hired St. Louis-based Elasticity to help disabuse Block’s target demographic of its notion of Block as a stodgy, old-fashioned company. In doing so it helped re-brand Block as a company that millennials might like to do business with.

The plan? Elasticity created the Great Mustache Campaign.

In the words of Aaron Perlut, managing partner of Elasticity, the company didn’t just think outside the box. They crushed the box.

The campaign was built around an imaginary legislative proposal to provide a tax cut to anyone who sports a mustache. The tax cut was the tie-in to H&R Block. The “Stache Act” was the play for laughs. It was Block’s Nixonian moment.

The campaign began with a Presidents Day announcement from the steps of the U.S. Capitol. It included national TV appearances and creation of a phony lobbying group, the American Mustache Institute. It culminated with the “Million Mustache March” in Washington.

While the earned media from the campaign was impressive, most impressive was an admission by one of Block’s competitors that the Great ‘Stache Campaign had impacted its business that tax year.

Two campaigns—one big, one small. Same goal. If you want to break out of the clutter of your marketplace and get people to notice you be known for something.

Know what the essence of your company is and don’t be afraid to find news ways to communicate that. Be bold in your thinking and flawless in your execution.

Business, like luck, favors the bold.
10:02 AM

A War Time Christmas Memory

by , in

A War Time Christmas Story


The Lobster is taking a detour going into the Christmas weekend. Today we stop and help me commemorate the 70th anniversary this Sunday of the death of my uncle in World War II. 

Over 400,000 Americans were killed during World War II. Each one of them is a story to tell. This is my uncle's story.

Sgt. Edward H. Bucceri was a member of the 351st Bomb Group stationed at RAF Polebrook, England in World War II.  The base was 80 miles north of London. Ed died long before I was born. We know little about the incident that took his life other than it was his eighth combat mission and it occured three days before Christmas.

What information we have is preserved in The Chronicle of the 351st Bomb Group, by Peter Harris and Ken Harbour, and is the basis of this post.

Sgt. Bucceri's plane, serial number 42-39778 , and known as "Lucky Ball," was part of the 511th Squadron on a 34-plane bombing run that took off on December 22, 1943 from its base in Polebrook, England on a daylight mission to bomb a steel mill in Osnabruck, Germany. In command of Lucky Ball was the pilot, Lt. Lewis Maginn of Rochester, New York. 

It was to be the plane's fifth and final mission.











The Final Mission

According to Lt. Maginn's recollection of the event, Lucky Ball was anything but lucky on that mission. It had just been overhauled, with two engines ripped out and replaced by rebuilt ones. Lt. Maginn recalls being uneasy with the fact that the plane was pressed into service without the rebuilt engines having logged some more running time following the overhaul.

In addition to having to make the run with untested engines, two of the regular crew could not go on the mission and were replaced in the ball turret and tail gun positions.

Early into the flight, the pilot realized something was wrong. Bomb Groups assigned to the position behind them were rapidly gaining on Lucky Ball. Lt. Maginn put the hammer down to "near full power" and still found himself falling behind his formation.

And then the oil pressure in the number four engine began to drop.

The pilot killed the four engine and, being close to the target, tried to make the run with three motors. Then the oil pressure on number three began dropping.

With two engines out on one side, and an impossible task to keep up, Lt. Maginn made the decision to break formation and turn back to base. The crew jettisoned its bomb load, ammo and equipment in hopes of lightening the load on the two remaining engines.

The End

The crew then mistook an American plane for an enemy fighter and dived into a cloud bank. But the maneuver cost the crew "precious altitude," according to Lt. Maginn. Then the oil pressure in number two began to drop. 

The crew began to take flak from German fighters, worsening their altitude situation. The pilot was forced to shut down number two, leaving Lucky Ball one engine.

The crew dumped all remaining equipment, guns and ammunition and began a desperate run over the North Sea to the English coast. Sgt. Palmer, the radio man, sent out the SOS. 

But there was no luck for Lucky Ball that night as it struggled westward into a gale headwind.

With the English coastline in plain view, the crew came to the realization they would never reach it. They prepared to ditch their craft into the chop of the North Sea. 

Cruising low above the waves, the pilot cut the last engine and tried to glide to a straight landing. The bomber hit the water at 85 miles per hour, breaking in half.

Lt. Maginn describes the intense cold of the North Sea in late December as "instantly numbing." The crash landing had jammed the cables on the life rafts, forcing the crew to "take to the water," their flotation devices their only hope for survival. 

Huddled together in the freezing water they watched Lucky Ball sink below the waves. The first big wave to break over them scattered them about the sea, each man to his own.

Sgt. Palmer assured Maginn that the rescue squadrons had a fix on their position. But it would be 45 more agonizing minutes before the first boat appeared. 

During that 45 minutes as the men drifted apart, Lt. Maginn later said, "the wind and bitter cold water took its toll rapidly." Five of the ten-man crew were rescued. 

Perishing that night were the navigator, Lt. James McMorrow of Akron, Ohio, Sgts. Albert Meyer of Roswell, New Mexico, Docile Nadeau of Fort Keat Mills, Maine, and Clarence Rowlinson of Des Moines, Iowa. Sgt. Meyer was the only one whose body was recovered.

Sgts. Nadeau and Rowlinson were the replacement ball turret and tail gunners fatefully assigned to the flight that night.

The fifth crew member killed was my uncle, Sgt. Edward H. Bucceri of Jersey City, New Jersey.

No memorial marks the spot where these men went to their final rest. There was no military funeral at a national cemetery, no 21-gun salute, no honor guard. No one made a movie about the Lucky Ball's last run, and no Grammy-winning folk singer penned a mournful song . The crew that perished that night were just five of the more than 400,000 Americans killed in action in that war. Today I remember one of them.

Rest in Peace,  Ed. Merry Christmas. And thank you.
The former site of RAF Polebrook in
Northampton Country, England as it looks today

Les Fleurs de la Mémoire

A post-script: Les Fleurs de la Mémoire (The Flowers of Remembrance) Society is a French service organization. Its members “adopt” the graves of fallen American service members who are buried in the American Cemetery in Normandy. 

The father of our French nephew has adopted two such graves. Each spring the Les Fleurs de la Mémoire members decorate the American graves with fresh flowers and loving care, offering thoughtful prayers for those Americans who gave the last full measure of devotion, as Lincoln said, to a cause of liberty shared by both peoples.

The media do a good job of ginning up political conflicts between France and the U.S.  Sometimes they go so far as to suggest that the French are ungrateful for the sacrifices made by Americans in France during the World Wars. But I can tell you that nothing can be further from the truth. Les Fleurs de la Mémoire shows the strong bond between the people of the two countries. 

As a relative of someone killed in the European theater and someone who preserves that bond, I say merci.