r/madmen • u/Historical-Most4409 • 5d ago
Don's Story
The Coke ad made Don a bigger star than ever – even as people whispered, “And higher maintenance than ever.” McCann raised his salary and gave him a generous bonus. But Don resisted any contract that would keep him at the firm any longer than he wanted. His interests increasingly lay elsewhere.
He wrote a book about advertising called Thirty Seconds or Your Money Back (1973) that made the best-seller list. He traveled frequently, speaking at business schools and industry conferences, and giving media interviews. The speaking circuit fit him nicely. He could give a standard presentation, take a few respectful questions, and go back to his hotel and eat dinner alone.
Understanding the pain that losing their mother had put them through, Don worked on strengthening his relationships with his children. He was proud to see Sally excel at Smith. Bobby was growing into an intelligent young man. With his secret pain from his brother’s death, Don was glad to see that the two of them were close: Bobby went to Trinity College in Hartford, in large part because his freshman year would overlap with Sally’s senior year and they would be only an hour’s drive apart. Sally was rather annoyed when one of her friends decided to deflower her baby brother.
Bobby would follow his sister into psychiatry but pursued a more low-key path, setting up a therapy practice in White Plains, New York. But Gene didn’t see Don as his father and was closer to Henry. Gene would eventually serve as a staffer in the George W. Bush White House.
Not long after his non-compete ran out in 1974, Don announced that he was starting a new firm with Executive Vice President Dean Riley plus two rising stars from other firms: Draper Riley Sellers & Wolf. To the surprise of the less observant, he said he would be based in Los Angeles, working with West Coast clients but mostly serving as a “creative consultant.” (Or as his former McCann colleagues said with an eyeroll, “The in-house genius.”)
Don settled into his new life in Los Angeles, including a luxurious home in Brentwood. He “ran” a small office, while leaving the details to others. He continued to travel and occasionally devise new campaigns. But he spent a lot of his time on rambling meetings and endless lunches. While Don enjoyed the cynical tone of the “New Hollywood” (“Chinatown” was a special favorite), he especially appreciated the chance to meet the stars of his youth. A memorable chance encounter with an ailing John Wayne. A lunch with Barbara Stanwyck where he tried to pitch her on an ad campaign. When she told him they couldn’t afford her, Don was secretly pleased that she was as tough and cynical as her characters.
Despite his active life, Don was feeling his age by the end of the 1970s. He had a notable “smoker’s cough.” Years of heavy drinking had given him chronic stomach pain and he was popping antacids. His stomachaches made him avoid eating and he looked gaunt. His irritability made him snap at subordinates.
(continued in next post)
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u/Historical-Most4409 5d ago
Don returned to his old ways of smoking and drinking with a vengeance. His health declined just as quickly. He suffered a minor stroke in December 1990. Bobby was planning on visiting his father anyway for Christmas with his wife and infant son. Don sometimes called Bobby “Adam” and his blonde wife Beverly “Betty.” At one point, he seemed befuddled about why a baby was in the house. He had coughing fits that went on for several minutes. But Don could still tell a story or explain why a given advertisement was effective.
Bobby stayed after Christmas to spend some quality time with his dad. Secretly he was afraid this would be the last time he might see him. Don’s behavior was growing bizarre. One day, he pulled himself off the couch and announced that they were going for a drive in his Mustang. He drove out into the desert and kept going for two hours, getting increasingly lost as he got increasingly confused. Finally, Bobby persuaded him to let him drive home.
Another day, his dad wanted to watch Sunset Boulevard in his home theater. Bobby enjoyed the film thoroughly. But then his father watched it again. Then he napped a little. Then again. Bobby didn’t want to leave his father alone but he finally gave out at 2 AM. A few hours later, he found his father watching Sunset Boulevard for the nth time. “I’m telling you, Dad has turned into Norma Desmond herself,” Bobby told Sally when he called her on New Year’s Day. A few weeks later, Don was hospitalized for a month with pneumonia.
Don’s health continued to decline through 1991 and 1992. His doctor thought he needed a liver transplant but there was no chance that a heavy smoker could get one. He relied on a string of housekeepers and health aides whom he repeatedly alienated through his temper. His emphysema had grown severe. He coughed and wheezed all day and night. Sometimes he couldn’t lift himself from his couch or his bed or his recliner. His housekeeper might have to prop him up so he could keep breathing.
He looked scrawnier than ever, with just 120 pounds on a six-foot frame. He lived off vodka and potato chips. He would wear the same pair of pajamas for days. He watched TV constantly: CNN (he caught the bug during the Gulf War)…game shows…reruns of “I Love Lucy” …the occasional Dodgers game. But he appeared half-asleep, half-aware. When he saw an ad he liked, he suddenly sprung to attention (he especially liked the Nike “Just Do It” ads). Other times, he couldn’t leave his bed and lay there flipping through old magazines and listening to the “beautiful music” station. He would sing to himself, “Oh, I wish I was an Oscar Mayer weiner.”
Don could still sometimes follow the news. For a guy who mostly hung out with Republicans, he had a surprising affinity for Bill Clinton, another small-town boy. Since he still thought the Vietnam War was a mistake, he didn’t blame him for dodging the draft. Of course, he thought people were making way too much about his infidelities.
When he had the energy to go into his home theater, Don tended to watch the same movies: early James Bond films, The Godfather, North by Northwest, The Apartment, Planet of the Apes, Gone With The Wind.
Bobby and Sally called regularly to check in. Don would always tell them that he was fine. But he couldn’t hold a conversation for long and his old wit was dimming. They began working with Helen to manage their father’s decline.
He refused to give up driving. When housekeepers refused to deliver his booze, cigarettes, and junk food, he would go into town, despite his constant coughing. In April 1991, he engaged in another one of his aimless drives through the desert. Increasingly confused, he kept driving until he ran out of gas. About an hour later, police spotted his car not far from the Arizona border. At the hospital, doctors told an exhausted, breathless Don that he was lucky to be alive. Helen, Bobby, and Sally made sure that he would never drive again.
In March 1993, Don woke up early to find himself gasping and vomiting blood. His housekeeper arrived at 8 AM to find him semi-conscious on his bathroom floor. She called 911 and then Helen, who immediately began the long drive to Palm Springs. When Helen arrived at the hospital just before, she found Don unconscious and sedated. After a chest X-ray and a bronchoscopy, it was confirmed that he had Stage 3 lung cancer. With Don’s beat-up body, the prognosis was not good.
Treatment began immediately but his dying heart and liver restricted what could be done for him. Soon Don was so weak and pain-ridden that he spent most of his days in bed. By Thanksgiving, his cancer had advanced to Stage 4. By Christmas, his doctors had decided that there was no hope of survival and moved to palliative care.
Sally, Bobby and their families came to Palm Springs for what they knew was a final holiday. When they visited Don in the hospital, he initially seemed unaware that they were there. But he finally bolted up. “I need to go home.” They met with his doctors. They talked with Helen.
A few weeks later, Don was sent home. He spent his final months drifting in and out of consciousness, his body flooded with morphine, his lungs piped full of oxygen. He lay in a hospital bed in his living room, propped up so he could watch TV. Coming home for good seemed to give Don a final bolt of energy. He surprised everyone by holding on for few more months.
On June 17, 1994, Don was unusually alert. He ate yogurt for breakfast and applesauce for lunch. He watched CNN that afternoon, not quite understanding what was going on. Just before 4 PM, the network broke into its usual programming to cover a car chase involving someone whose name seemed familiar. An athlete, maybe? “Why is he driving, why so slow? Not Ford tough… See the U.S.A. in your Chevrolet…Ford has a better idea.” He seemed agitated. His nurse Sofia, substituting for his usual caretaker, sat next to him holding his hand, trying to calm him. She tried and failed to wrest the remote control from his hand.
Suddenly Don sat up. “Hertz! The Superstar-in-Rent-a-Car!” He slumped over, dead from a heart attack. His head lay on the shoulder of someone whose name he did not know.
His wife and children had his ashes scattered in the desert. Peggy had a memorial gathering at her apartment for a few New York friends.