MARMONT WAY

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Today we said goodbye to my dear mother with words and music of love—and this little video from the heart. "Audrey Lorraine Lucente passed peacefully at the age of 100 on December 11, 2022. Born and raised in San Jose, she graduated from San Jose High School in 1941 and wed Louis "Hank" Lucente (1922-2017) the following year, shortly before his enlistment in the U.S. Navy. After WWII, the couple resided in San Francisco where, in 1950, their daughter Debra was born. Soon thereafter, they settled in San Jose and Audrey began her pioneering work in the temporary staffing industry. Over a five-decade career, she put more than 150,000 local job-seekers to work. She was also elected to the board of directors of the California Association of Temporary Services (CATS), serving as regional president in 1974. Yet, even as she excelled professionally, Audrey prioritized caring for Hank, Debra, and son Tom, and opening heart and home to family and friends. She was a fabulous cook and hostess who loved dancing to the big band music of the Swing era, owning and driving a succession of Ford Mustangs and, later in life, finding her own joy in the game of golf (Hank's passion for so many years). Audrey will be missed by all those she leaves behind, including daughter and son-in-law Debra and James Rapheld, son and daughter-in-law Tom and Catherine Lucente, sister- and brother-in-law Emily and Chuck Harris, nieces and nephews, and her devoted neighbors on Marmont Way."

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Moments that matter: Commemorating 70 years of St. Anthony’s

The following is a feel-good story about modern marketing. It begins with a pledge and ends with a promise to do more. In between, it suggests that making moments that matter can make a meaningful difference in the world.

“Remember, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.” ~Stephen King

In early 2016, the technology marketing specialists at April Six made a commitment to drive social justice wherever possible—inspired by the agency’s evolving culture of diversity and inclusion. As part of that commitment, we began seeking-out opportunities to donate our work and ideas in support of community/nonprofit organizations aligned with our values. More broadly, we were looking to provide local nonprofit groups with the same level of strategic and creative expertise that we bring to global tech brands.

Our social-justice journey began in earnest—not with marketing, but with volunteering. Specifically, a small but passionate group of “Sixers” from our San Francisco office volunteered a series of afternoons at the St. Anthony Foundation. (The esteemed Bay Area nonprofit, known affectionately as “St Anthony’s,” has provided nourishing meals, fresh clothing, and basic services to those in need since 1950.)

Year after year, these volunteering experiences made an indelible impression on the members of the April Six team, helping each of us understand—on a human level—the urgent needs nonprofits like St. Anthony’s fill for their respective guests. So many guests.

As the months passed, and we continued proudly as volunteers, we learned about St. Anthony’s...and they learned about April Six (and our commitment to being of service in our respective communities). Then, in early 2020, as the foundation began planning its 70th-anniversary commemorative activities, we were given the opportunity to create the anniversary campaign and fill it with moments worthy of such a milestone.

Fast-forward to today, and to the 70th Anniversary campaign running on digital media, on the web, and on the streets of San Francisco. Fully conceived and executed by remote teams during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic lockdown, the campaign is a tribute to the efforts of many talented, determined individuals inside and outside of St. Anthony’s, April Six, and beyond.

We couldn’t have done it without our dedicated creative and media partners, and we thank each of them for generously donating their services and content to the cause: Belmondo Studios, Stars, The Agency, voice-over actor Darrell Brown, photographer Brenton Gieser, and our media providers Amobee and Billups.

At the core of the April Six relationship with the St. Anthony Foundation—and of the brand itself—is the Franciscan belief in the power of hope. As a local institution with a global reputation, St. Anthony’s embodies that belief, and has from its very beginnings. Even the foundation’s tagline reminds all who need to hear it: “Hope served daily” (and it is).

In this strange and challenging year of coronavirus, and of social chaos, the things we’ve always understood to be true (or, at least, knowable) feel increasingly uncertain. Fact is, we humans need hope now more than ever. And, although hope isn’t meaning, it does provide us with a reason to believe in the possible. Moreover, hope needn’t be some “Hail Mary” undertaking entered into only when rational actions need an injection of emotional support. Even in the smallest measure, hope has real and lasting pertinence.

During a recent episode of the Al Franken Show, author and philosopher Susan Neiman expounded on her belief that hope isn’t just a feeling, “it’s a moral obligation.” I think I know what she means. There have been times in the past few months when I’ve felt the weight of hopelessness tugging at my psyche. Seems I’m not alone. According to 2020 research from the Society for Human Resource Management, nearly one in four (23%) U.S. workers under pandemic lockdown report feeling down, depressed, or hopeless often.

That's why, for myself, the experience of partnering with St. Anthony’s has been such a gift. It’s reminded me that any isolation or uncertainty I’ve experienced, while real, pales in comparison to daily obstacles faced by less fortunate individuals in my own community. And still, for so many, hope abides...one moment, one meal, one square mile at a time. (This article was originally published on LinkedIn.)

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Context (in lieu of a barber)

For the past few weeks, my hair and I have been engaged in a pitched battle, a psycho-follicular struggle of shock-and-awe. With local barbershops shuttered due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I've gone without a haircut since February 2020. It's now June, and it's not pretty. The situation does, however, bring to mind a lovely memory (from one of the first times I recall perceiving the power of words). 

When I was a kid, I got my haircuts at a fancy barbershop in downtown San Jose called "The Stanley Warren Shop." (Maybe that’s why, to this day, I only trust professionals to cut my hair.) Mounted prominently on the main wall inside that shrine to mid-century sophistication was a quote that has stayed with me all these years: 

"To make a fine gentleman, several trades are required, but chiefly a barber." 

An empirical statement of just 12 words, all of them purposeful. A fine gentleman. Several trades. Chiefly. To absorb that quote while seated in Stanley Warren's sumptuously appointed barber-chair was to feel elevated, and pampered in a manifestly masculine way. 

Directly below the quote was its attribution: Oliver Goldsmith. Beyond sounding sufficiently urbane, the name meant nothing to me. Only now do I appreciate the irony. Namely, that the most famous quote ever about the importance of barbers is attributed to an 18th-century playwright, poet and novelist saddled with a receding hairline for the ages (see image above). I guess my unruly locks aren’t such such a problem, after all.

So that's why I'm calling a truce in the war with my out-of-control mane. Methinks Master Goldsmith would have wanted it that way.

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One night, in a dream, he sees his father bury family heirlooms under a lilac tree in the garden. In the morning he takes a shovel to the spot he dreamed about and finds the heirlooms.

From Brett Stephens' heartfelt piece in The New York Times on indefatigable Holocaust survivor Lajos (Luis) Stillmann, 98, sheltering-in-place at his home in Mexico City while working on the memoir of his most amazing life.

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We’re all just sick of people’s houses. They’re all so depressingly normal. And the better the person, the crumbier the house is going to look. Because they’re too busy to do anything. The only people that have fabulous, fabulous places, stink. They’re horrible at what they do.

Longtime hero Jerry Seinfeld making me feel a whole lot better about my “crumby house” (as represented by my Zoom backgrounds) in his interview with The New York Times

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Jonathan Franzen on being humane (in an inhumane time)

In a recent interview for “The Millions,” novelist and essayist Jonathan Franzen was asked, “Do you have some suggestions for those who want to be more humane, especially young people?” Young or old, his answer is instructive for all of us:  “That’s a big question. I do think reading a good novel is a way to be reconnected with one’s humanity. If you’re young and you don’t know what a good novel is, it’s a good way to discover your humanity. So, that would remain my first suggestion. If you don’t immediately know how to read a novel, I think studying with a good teacher, or talking about something with a book club, or just having a friend who you can read the same book with, can deepen your engagement and help you see all the levels of meaning available in a novel. So that would be one thing. The other thing would be to open your door and go outside. Even though you think you’re being very human and connected, texting, Instagramming, Facebooking, all that stuff, there’s a point of diminishing returns. You’re not actually getting that much from the screen, it becomes a kind of compulsion, and much of the discourse is either trivial or fake. Paradoxically, one way to find the self is to walk away from it. Even if you just go to a city park and spend time with a tree and look carefully, look at the bugs that are on it, the birds that are in it, it can be incredibly restorative. That would be my other suggestion.” 

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Beauty Is Truth: Rethinking Brand Priorities for “The Next Normal”

“Beauty is truth, truth beauty—that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” –John Keats, 1819

As the global community races to save lives amid the COVID-19 pandemic, issues of brand and business have been moved to the back burner. The priority today is more basic: Reduce the rate of infection and stop the virus. Once that happens, however, brands will endeavor to help their customers regain some of what’s been lost.

Because of the outbreak, and the unprecedented measures being taken to “flatten the curve,” priorities are shifting in fundamental ways. Dr. Anthony Fauci, director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, predicts that the effects of the pandemic will be “imprinted on the personality of our nation” for years to come. Normalcy will return, as it almost always does, but not as it was.

McKinsey & Company partners Kevin Sneader and Shubham Singhal have already dubbed the post-COVID-19 era “the next normal.” In their article, “Beyond coronavirus: The path to the next normal,” they describe “...a dramatic restructuring of the economic and social order in which business and society have traditionally operated.”

Beyond the market implications, it’s shocking how quickly the pandemic has made so many of us rethink personal and professional priorities that seemed immutable just weeks ago. Reminded of our inescapable frailties, and quarantined to our homes for the good of ourselves and our communities, we are confronting issues of life and mortality in unexpected ways.

In her recent Op-Ed in The New York Times, Nashville-based author Margaret Renkl catalogs the palpable fear. “Every online gathering, every phone call, every just-saying-hey email carries an undercurrent of mortality,” she writes. “Even if we don’t say it out loud, we recognize that our time for checking in may run out. This is not breaking news, of course. We have always been mortal beings, but until life serves up a memento mori like the new coronavirus, people tend to spend each day as though they had an endless supply of days.”

This uncertain time has me thinking about the climactic scene in “Almost Famous,” Cameron Crowe’s heartfelt homage to mid-‘70s rock-and-roll. Flying through a thunderstorm in their small chartered plane, members of the film’s fictional band embrace the moment—could it be their last?—to come clean about who they are and what they’ve done. Quickly and comically, infidelities are acknowledged, the band’s gonzo drummer comes out as gay, and its manager admits to a vehicular hit-and-run that “may have killed a man.” Then, just as quickly, the storm dissipates, and the survival of all is...gulp...assured.

The point is this: When we run out of time, the only thing that matters is the truth. And that means getting right with our loved ones so we can live with ourselves. In this time of the coronavirus, we’re all trapped in that rickety little plane hurtling toward some craggy Mississippi cotton field. Things feel dire now, but, like in the film, the plane’s going to right itself and land safely “somewhere near Tupelo.” Will brands be ready when it does?

Few seem ready as of yet. From the onset of the pandemic, the typical marketing message has been an innocuous “We’re here for you,” even if that’s the last thing customers need or want. It may be time to step back and view “the next normal” as an opportunity for deeper engagement. As customer priorities shift toward staying true to one’s self, brands can leverage the authentic goodness in their people and products. In fact, celebrating that goodness in credible, honorable ways may be the best we can do.

In an interview for Campaign magazine, Jonathan Kneebone, founding partner of Sydney-based The Glue Society, addresses the vital role of creative marketers in a world in which we are all struggling to find positives. “It’s up to us as people who problem-solve to be aware of people’s spirits and respect them,” he says.

Despite the best efforts of creative thinkers, not every brand will successfully adapt its message to fit the moment. For those that do, harnessing basic human truths will serve them well. Jason Bagley, an executive creative director at Wieden+Kennedy Portland, tells HuffPost, “People are looking for truth, authenticity and human connection from brands more than ever.”

“The bigger thing is what type of communication is going to be right in this new atmosphere,” says The Glue Society’s Kneebone. “It will be things that are more playful and entertaining to lift everyone’s spirits, or something more considerate and supportive, while not appearing to be making light of anything or throwing money around when some people don’t have any. The common thread will be connection and community. It will be about being more humane and having some humility.”

As if on cue, Apple's newest video focuses on how community and creativity will get us through these difficult times. Sure, it’s predictable. But it’s also powerful and completely in line with the brand’s values as viewed through the lens of its products.

And, of course, it’s only the beginning. The coming “normalcy blitz” may be unlike anything we’ve seen in our lifetimes, at least since the period after 9/11. How else to predict the volcanic response to experiences few of us have ever faced—yet of which all of us can now relate?

“What is about to be unleashed on American society will be the greatest campaign ever created to get you to feel normal again,” writes independent filmmaker Julio Vincent Gambuto in Forge. “It will come from brands, it will come from government, it will even come from each other, and it will come from the left and from the right. We will do anything, spend anything, believe anything, just so we can take away how horribly uncomfortable all of this feels.”

So, we marketers have an important choice to make on behalf of our clients: add to the noise or elevate the conversation. I’ll be on the side of the beautiful truth. (This article was originally published on LinkedIn.)

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"What I learned this year" by Tom Lucente, Creative Director at April Six. - The San Francisco Egotist

As with all good marketing, giving the consumer something extra is always a happy surprise. So happy surprise! We have an extra "What I learned this year" piece by Tom Lucente, Creative Director at April Six. Enjoy! -------------------- I learned the more things change the more they stay the same. (It was a repeat

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The copy bots are in our heads

Artificial intelligence changes everything. Even well-established professions untouched by other technologies have seen AI land at their doorsteps. My own is no exception. But, do I really think AI will transform copywriting as we know it? Simply stated, I think it already has.

Case in point: the emergence of content as the bright, shiny object in the marketer's toolbox. Writers and other creators are employing content in ways they never imagined using copy. Then again, the latter has long been a product of style over substance, persuasion over communication.

Not so with modern content. It's often deeper and, if the data's right, more relevant to the desires of today's audiences. With ABM and other digital technologies, content is downright personalized—often to a one-to-one level. All of which is why content creation is less about headlines and more about headspace. That makes content ripe for automation and, yes, AI.

When I was recently asked to consider the potential benefits of adopting AI-enabled tools at April Six, I welcomed the question. Putting aside the emotional (and, for some, apocalyptical) reaction to the thought of machine-learning copy bots replacing living, breathing copywriters, it wasn't an unreasonable request. We've clearly entered a new era in marketing, and some integration between human and artificial intelligence is inevitable. The risk of disruption is too great to think otherwise.

Besides, no decent copywriter is getting replaced anytime soon, right? (Actually, hold that thought.)

AI comes in peace (mostly)

I've learned, perhaps reluctantly, that copywriting AI is not the enemy. In my experience, the vast majority of today's copywriting tools were designed not to replace humans but to make us better, more efficient writers and editors. The current crop of offerings leverage core AI capabilities to automate the mundane, the elemental, the repeatable. That said, the promise of the technology has always felt more, well, promising than that.

It's not that we haven't seen significant signs of change. In 2016, Goldman Sachs' landmark investment in what was then called, "The world's first automated copywriting startup," ignited the era of AI-based content creation—or so it seemed. That same startup (Persado) now says it's, "Reinventing marketing creative by applying mathematical certainty to words." Vague, yes. Interesting, perhaps. But hardly a foot-stomping, flag-waving declaration of copywriting independence.

Maybe it's premature to conclude that we've entered a glorious, new era of content creators enabled by artificial intelligence. According to Econsultancy.com blogger Rebecca Sentance, “Despite fears of an AI takeover, at present only a handful of companies in the marketing and advertising space offer tools for automated copywriting and language optimization.”

The fact is, no one has yet cracked the code that would enable an AI-based system to "write" creatively conceptual, natural-sounding copy at the push of a button. Perhaps software developers have realized that writing for human consumption is difficult—even when it's done by humans.

It's not for a lack of trying. The range of AI-enabled writing solutions is already a wide one. Ever use the proofreading editor embedded in Microsoft Word? That's copywriting AI. Not enough AI for you? How about Phrasee's tool that claims, without hesitation, "To write better subject lines, Facebook ads, and push messages than humans"?

Likewise, the AI-enabled grammar-checkers—Grammarly, Ginger, WhiteSmoke, ProWritingAid and others—have developed their own approaches and attracted their own followings. With more than 6.9 million daily users, Grammarly's system combines machine learning and natural language processing. According to the company's website, "Natural language processing is a branch of AI that involves teaching machines to understand and process human language (English, for instance) and perform useful tasks, such as machine translation, sentiment analysis, essay scoring, and, in our case, writing enhancement."

And, finally, there's AI Copywriter from the digital-marketing division of China’s Alibaba Group (the largest retailer on the planet). The proprietary tool utilizes “deep learning and natural language processing amassed from millions of top-quality existing sales" to generate text on Alibaba-owned websites. Gone is the pesky task of writing copy. Instead, users choose from a set of machine-generated options. Within these closed, retail environments, AI is being utilized not so much to assist professional copywriters, but to help everyday sellers and business owners market their products on China's most popular social platforms.

New discussion, old debate

It’s one thing for an AI-based copywriting tool to pass the Turing Test (exhibiting intelligent behavior equivalent to, or indistinguishable from, that of a human). It's quite another to elevate copywriting to something resembling art. After all, isn't that what great copywriters and campaigns do? Shouldn't the bots be held to an equally high standard?

Volkswagen's “Think small,” Nike's “Just do it,” and Dove's “Real Beauty” are the copy written products not of data and schema, but of creativity and cultural literacy. As Goodby, Silverstein & Partners Chairman Jeff Goodby puts it, "The pursuit of artistic merit and success for the brand are connected. Art gets things noticed and re-evaluated.”

Our 21st-century argument is reminiscent of a famous 20th-century debate in which opposing schools-of-thought wrestled for marketing mindshare. On one side were the "neo-traditionalists"—Rosser Reeves and David Ogilvy included—who saw advertising as a science to be delineated and measured. On the other side were the "creative revolutionaries"—including the legendary Bill Bernbach—who were dedicated to driving memorable engagement through unexpected, unconventional creative.

That helps explain why, as I develop work for clients, and direct the work of copywriters, I feel as though I'm part of a diminishing breed. I still think ideas matter more than data—although I can't deny that the evidence to the contrary is growing.

Wherefore art thou copy bots?

Words mean as much as ever, but what meaning and whose words? Lawrence B. Solum, Professor of Law at Georgetown University Law Center, has defined artificial meaning as that which is, "Produced by entities that are not natural persons. One example of artificial meaning is provided by communications that are generated by AIs.

"Today, such meanings are produced by the complex algorithms that produce the various texts generated by Amazon.com or Siri. Even today, these AIs produce meanings that cannot be reduced to the meaning generated by the programmers (and others) who have input into the texts," he believes. "These AIs say new things because their algorithms combine words into sentences that have never been uttered before."

Combining words into sentences that have never been uttered before? Sounds like the work of a great copywriter, no? Apparently, it's also within the wheelhouse of a transformative technology. And that brings us back to the idea of decent copywriters losing their jobs. I'm afraid I have no credible theories on that. Fortunately, my April Six colleague, Director of Strategy Trent Talbert, has an optimistic thought for all concerned.

"In a world where two plus two equals four (repetitive or formulaic content, for example) a computer can create faster and better," he says. "But, in a world where two plus two equals five (say, the creation of brilliant lines like 'Impossible is nothing' or 'Got milk?') it takes a human to make the leap. That’s where AI falls short today: the big leap. Creating art."

However it all shakes out, there's no question that the copy bots are in our heads. It remains to be seen whether we take them into our hearts.

This article was originally published August 6, 2019 on LinkedIn.

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When you made a tape for somebody, you didn’t just hit a button and burn a bunch of stuff. No, you had to make it. You had to put records on, you found the groove, you had to put it all together, and you had to listen to it...You were investing time. You were investing love. It was a lovely act to make a tape for somebody. It was an act of selflessness.

Director Quentin Tarantino, interviewed on the Discogs blog about his record collection, his soundtracks, and his ninth and newest film, Once Upon A Time In Hollywood. I particularly enjoyed his heartfelt reminiscences of the mixtape-making experience, which I remember well. (It’s all about the levels.)

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Better to have some vermin living in your neighborhood than to be one.

The Editorial Board of the #BaltimoreSun responded quickly and defiantly to yesterday’s thinly veiled racist tweet by Donald Trump, in which the President of the United States criticized Maryland’s “rodent invested” 7th congressional district and its representative, 68 year-old Civil Rights icon Elijah Cummings.

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Coens be Coensin'. Westerns have been around since the beginning of filmmaking. Case in point: Edwin S. Porter’s The Great Train Robbery from 1903. So, to say that it’s all been done, is to state the obvious. Which is why what Joel and Ethan Coen do in their brilliant and beautiful Netflix film, The Ballad Of Buster Scruggs, is so completely Coen. Within the first seven minutes of this “anthology western,” we’re presented with not one, but two shots that, to my knowledge, have never been seen on film. The first is a POV (with muffled audio!) from inside the sound hole in Tim Blake Nelson’s guitar. Never seen that. The second is the beam of sunlight streaming through the bullet-hole Nelson’s Buster Scruggs puts in the back of a too-slow bartender. Definitely never seen that. Both shots are quirky and funny (like the rest of the film) and both make an early statement that this western is unlike all the rest. Hats off to the Coen brothers for their hard work making art work.

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Sleep well, sweet father. My dad passed away one year ago today. I’m still not over the loss. (Do you ever get over the loss?) So I cherish the memories and, thankfully, there are many. Like the time he refused to back down to a group of rowdy Hell’s Angels in Monterey. Or the nine summer vacations in a row he took his kids to Disneyland when, I know, he would have been happier playing golf. Or the brio he brought to cooking (and eating) with his family and his many, many friends. Absent his powerful presence, the past year has been even more difficult than I imagined it could be. But I’m continually reminded of him in a thousand ways large and small and, ultimately, thankful we had him for so long. 

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A MAGA hat full of hate. In the era of Trump, it’s continually shocking to be reminded that a few of our social-media friends come with “special” benefits—none of them particularly comforting. I know the person who wrote this post (and whose identity I’ve obscured). I just don’t recognize him. We attended the same college, even lived in the same house, but I don’t think we ever talked politics. Good thing, apparently. 

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History is going to wreck you. It’s going to mock, belittle, and revile you in ways you can hardly imagine. You’re going to be a tragicomic footnote, a political fart in the hurricane of history.

Best-selling author and GOP strategist Rick Wilson, in a tweet directed at the current President of the United States, predicts the Trump name, “will be a punchline, not a rallying cry.” (I think he went a bit soft on him.)

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Majestic density: Kamasi Washington at the Warfield. To spend an evening in the company of saxophonist/composer Kamasi Washington is to be enveloped in a kind of glorious euphony. This is music you feel in your bones. It’s a majestic density of sound delivered in bursts of rhythmic intensity. (Two powerhouse drummers will do that.) This past Friday, Kamasi brought his Heaven and Earth Tour to the Warfield Theatre, and the emotive Franciscans greeted the native Angeleno enthusiastically. Opening with the thunderous “Street Fighter Mas” (from the new album), the SoCal sextet along with lissome vocalist Patrice Quinn delivered an adventurous set filled with plenty of surprises, including a vigorous performance of bandmate Miles Mosely’s “Abraham” (on the bassist/singer’s birthday). Yet, it's the imposingly large Kamasi that the unit revolves around—his tenor saxophone resting like a toy against the expansive whiteness of his knee-length kaftan. When played, however, it’s a weapon of love wielded with masterful authority. In this undeniably modern artist lives the spirit (and spirituality) of John Coltrane and Sun Ra and Charles Mingus. It’s exciting to consider what he’ll create next. I know I’ll be listening.

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It’s imperative that men don’t only stand with women, but they stand for women, and by standing for women, we have to acknowledge that there’s a culture of sexual violence—rape culture—that men have benefited from. For it to change, men have to change it.

New York Rapper Mysonne, joining hundreds in protest near the steps of the U.S. Capitol in response to today’s Senate confirmation of Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh after a contentious, highly partisan process. Prior to his arrest (along with more than 150 other protestors) he stated, “We all look at [Brett] Kavanaugh, and we see some similarities with things that have happened in our lives. We’ve traumatized some women in a way that we might not even acknowledge because it’s normalized. And then you realize and listen to these stories of these women; you realize that they’ve been damaged as a result of the things that we took as normal. That comes with accountability,” he said. I hope we men (especially those who vote) are listening.