Rehab: An Advertising Love Story

These days, that sense of liberation courses through the halls of JWT--half of which are still covered in the old gray carpet. But there's mounting frustration as well that the outside world hasn't witnessed the transformation. At the beginning of 2006, Advertising Age said it was "still waiting for a big idea from Ty Montague, the hyped creative head." According to one search consultant who helps clients find new ad agencies, the general perception of the old aircraft carrier hasn't changed. "I think there has been a wonderful rhetoric about their intentions," she says, "but I don't see it happening."

The primary reason she hasn't seen it is that, apart from the JetBlue campaign, most of the work done under Montague won't appear until the second half of this year. "Nobody sees the plumbing. They only see the paint job," he concedes. Of course, an agency could be bubbling with experimental campaigns along the lines of Montague's "Beta-7"--a pseudo-Orwellian masterpiece that was huge on the Web--but no one would ever know it if clients keep running for safety. "I think they have a lot of clients who don't care about being leaders," says the search consultant. "They aren't even the fast followers."

Not everything can be blamed on the clients, though. At a recent weekly meeting of Montague's top creative team, the group turns on a TV to evaluate the latest reel of new commercials. There are a few hilarious Domino's ads, and a couple of okay Jenny Craig and Listerine spots. Then suddenly up pops some Ron Popeil knockoff looking straight into the camera as he wipes down a countertop: "Bam--and the dirt is gone!" he says, with a game-show host's smile. An uncomfortable silence settles around the table as people try to decide whether this is a practical joke or whether the ad itself is a spoof and a punch line is on its way. "Did we really do this?" one of creatives finally blurts out. "I think so," Montague answers, looking equally confused. They rate it a 1.

"It's just a constant reminder of the size of this place," Montague says the next day, when asked what had run through his mind upon seeing the ad. "There are things that go on here that I still have no knowledge of or contact with."

Which probably accounts for JWT's agonizingly slow U-turn. According to Adweek, U.S. revenues in 2005 grew 10%, to $587 million (WPP doesn't break down individual companies or offices). And while Montague and Ryan say that meets the mandate they've been given, the agency's total billings from clients grew by only 2%--despite adding other new business from L.L.Bean, Purell, and Merck. Compare that with BBDO, the other behemoth Madison Avenue shop that's on a mission to reinvent itself: Its U.S. billings are up 28%. And BBDO took home Agency of the Year in both industry trades, after reeling in a stunning 12 new clients in 2005.

David Lubars, BBDO's new creative head--often referred to as Montague's analogue--affects complete uninterest in the whole JWT saga. "Frankly," he says, "I don't know what they're doing over there. I'm too immersed in my own world."

Ryan is less discreet: "Would we like to be Agency of the Year? Of course," she says. "Did we deserve to be? No. Did they? Yes. Do we look forward to killing them? Absolutely."

And with her new man at her side, she might do just that.

Danielle Sacks (dsacks@fastcompany.com) is a Fast Company staff writer.