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| Mike Dann |
Read it. It’s pretty good and lengthy. I just thought I’d just add something for
posterity, since I knew Mike and worked with him.
The obituary focuses on his
massive influence on popular U.S. commercial television programming in the 1950’s
and 1960’s. He was a master of creating programs and program schedules that drew huge audiences and made
hundreds of millions of dollars for advertisers.
His critics might say that much
of this was mind-numbing Pablum, and let’s face it; being known as the father
of “The Beverly Hillbillies” isn’t exactly flattering.
But Mike was also responsible for
putting Jim Henson and The Muppets on nationwide programming, and virtually creating
The Children’s Television Workshop (“Sesame Street”) by hiring Joan Ganz Cooney
to lead it (and teaming her with Jim Henson, by the way). Not
exactly Nobel Prize material either, but can you imagine how many billions of
people around the world have grown up with these in various countries, in
various languages?
My granddaughter’s favorite TV
character is Elmo. Elmo wouldn’t have
existed without Mike.
The obituary does point out two
tidbits (out of a significant portfolio) of cultural programming that he somehow
managed to persuade his bosses to air.
But the chronicle of his life in
the NYT obituary stops at around 1970. I thought I’d add a little more Mike Dann
history.
I got to know Mike starting in
something like 1976 when he was a consultant to IBM’s Corporate Television
Advertising department. I was a fresh-faced kid in IBM’s advertising
agency, assigned to promoting IBM’s television specials and making the commercials
that were put into the sponsored commercial network programs. The
commercial networks at that time consistent of the Three Sisters: CBS, NBC, and
ABC. We also sponsored programming on
PBS; devoid of commercials but not without considerable promotional value.
My boss, Chuck Francis, who
headed IBM’s advertising, hired Mike in something like 1974 to help him orchestrate
programming that telegraphed IBM’s corporate values and messages. In 1979, I joined IBM as a Manager in
IBM Corporate Television Advertising and eventually became head of IBM Corporate
Advertising, and that’s when I started working directly with Mike; developing
program ideas, meeting network executives and producers from around the world,
then airing what we had concocted.
In spite of our 30-year
age difference, we got along extremely well.
I think it was partly because, coming from the advertising business, I
knew what television ratings were all about, knew how to do the numbers, but I
had a passion for film and television and a sense of the theatrical and I think
he respected that. We both shared slightly cynical streaks. He was also a lot of
fun to be with.
Mike’s influence on IBM’s
sponsorship of -- to be conservative, 40 television single specials, mini-series and
series over the course of 20 years after 1976 -- was huge. He knew everybody in the business -- network czars, producers, talent agencies, actors -- and
introduced me to many of them.
The programs IBM sponsored had
cultural and educational merit. Things
like “Eleanor and Franklin: The White
House Years”, “Something for Joey”, “Baryshnikov on Broadway”, "Tribal Eye", “The First Eden” and later “Square One TV”, a math literacy
program on PBS; to name just a few off the top of my head. Mike served up a lot of these ideas and the
people and networks.
The benefit to IBM was palpable.
All the research we did about attitude about the company showed nothing but
positives. This was in an era when IBM
wasn’t thought highly of. The more we put on the air, the better our image got. And it was
largely via TV programming that we launched the IBM PC which really blew the
roof off and made IBM a different company.
I did a lot of my own negotiating
with the networks and producers, but Mike was always the guy in the corner who
coached me and taught me the moves.
I can’t remember what program it
was, but it was on NBC, and I was having a terrible time getting the right time
slot for it. Fred Silverman was the
president of the network at the time and I called Mike for advice. He told me to call Silverman. “Then tell Freddie to go fuck himself”.
Mike was one of the funniest
people I’ve ever met. His humor was
dry. He didn’t tell jokes. He just made off-the-cuff comments. Chuck told me that once he and
Mike were in London and went to visit David Attenborough, the famous BBC
executive, best known for his TV series’ about global culture and nature. David had a massive collection of primitive sculptures,
masks, and artwork from his travels to Africa and Asia, and they were all on
display throughout his house, on walls and all over. Chuck and Mike walk in, are greeted by David,
and examining all of this artwork, Mike says: “My, your children are creative!”.
I was
head of IBM advertising in Europe during the early ‘80’s, trying to get various
TV advertising and sponsorship programs off the ground and I invited Mike to come speak
to my colleagues from all the countries at a seminar I held in Vienna. We had a dinner at one of the wine gardens
up in the hills, and admittedly we had a bit of wine. Mike launched into a stand-up comedy routine
for about 30 minutes that caused the most unbelievable and sustained laughter I’ve
ever heard. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard at
jokes about me.
His connections with the BBC and
our meetings in London with all the heavies there ultimately led me to join the
BBC after IBM.
I remember that, arriving late at
one lunch I had with Mike in New York, he was reading the New York Times. I apologized. He said, “Don’t worry, I’m only reading the
Obituaries. It's just a habit.”.
And so I got into the habit,
too. Today was a bad day in the Obits.
Farewell to Mike, one of my
mentors and friends.
