More remarkably, in the middle of his tenure, his wife contracted a particularly virulent form of cancer and he was forced to discover first hand how skilled and caring these physicians were. His wife's treatment was long and painful, but together, family and doctors united to wrestle it into remission. Their story had a deep impact on family, co-workers and friends alike. They all wanted to express personal congratulations for his award along with intensely personal appreciation, admiration and affection. They had stories they had to tell. The more I was drawn into the story, the more I felt obliged to make each of the ads not only individual but also memorable and compelling. Clearly, boilerplate solutions were no longer even a consideration.
City of Hope is a research, treatment and teaching center dedicated to defeating cancer. They talk about the disease as if it were a living, breathing enemy. They are painfullly aware that while cancer itself is deadly and debilitating, its very treatment wrecks havoc on the minds and bodies of patients. To alleviate that, the physicians here, have created a culture that strives to both save lives and preserve the spirits of their patients and families.
Not surprisingly, all of the individuals who asked me to help give them a voice wanted to say so much that they couldn’t fit it all into the few lines allowed by the constraints of a simple ad. What I had to do was distill all the stories and emotions down to the bare essence of their emotional connection to their husband, or father, or son, or friend, or coworker.
Of course, this is the essence of advertising, condensing the message of the client into a few powerful images, and it is a goal that any artist can relate to. It’s not unlike the task of Robert Russin, the creator of the Spirit of Life fountain that welcomes families and patients to the City of Hope. He had to find a way to express a sense of hope without any false promises of guaranteed cures. He chose a vision of joy.
As a writer, and as a son who lost a mother to cancer, I felt a special bond with these friends and family. I was also filled with a sense of obligation to make their sentiments powerful enough to reach out and touch their audience. I scheduled lengthy interviews to serve as the basis for each person’s ad. Their stories and emotions served as both inspiration and the foundation for the individual voice for each ad.
At the celebratory dinner, virtually every family member and friend thanked me for being so true to their meaning. Some shook my hand. Some hugged me. But the face that I remember most was a co-worker who took me aside and said, “When we first read your copy in our office, the ads from his children and his brothers and sisters made us all laugh. The personal note from his wife to her doctor made us all silent. But when we read the ad from his wife to him, I had to leave the room to cry.” And she thanked me.
But that wasn’t me. That was them. They made her laugh. They made her think. And it was his wife who made her cry. All I did was help them find their voice. I was honored that they’d asked me. It was an assignment I will never forget.
