dad was an art director at BBDO, and he would be doing layouts. It seemed a swell thing to do. He started his first agency as an undergraduate, with some fellows from the advertising department. The father of one of them ran a company that made pre- stressed concrete panels: Chuck presented an ad for an architecture magazine featuring Mies van der Rohe and a “terrible” line about great architects. This first client asked what the heck it was. His blocks were cheap and quick, and had nothing to do with Mies van der Rohe. But they’d shot and set it already, so he ran it. Then he won a prize for a radio spot for the campus drugstore. He was hooked. After graduating, he did the dutiful thing and headed to law school. It never held him, although, like Matias Palm-Jensen, he did like the law. He lasted till the first Christmas, when he went to visit his brother, a Delta pilot, in Miami. He fell in love with the place immediately. He’d been looking at Advertising Age and had read about two award-winning copywriters: he met with them, said he was a really good writer and asked them to give him a shot. They did. So he abandoned Law School, left his then-girlfriend, packed everything he had in a Chevy Camaro, and drove down. His first brief was a billboard for a bank installing cash dispensers. He wrote over 100 headlines: they thought around 99 were terrible, but alighted on one that read, “Get out of Line”. It was put up by the airport, and he’s never forgotten the thrill of seeing it. One of those copywriters, Rick Green, became his freelance partner for years. As their family grew, it was Chuck’s wife who suggested he get a proper job. He’d been 17 years a freelancer. One of the Miami agencies he had worked for was run by a man called Sam Crispin. Jamaica Tourist Board was a client, and one night in Montego Bay they were out drinking when Crispin handed him a legal pad and said, “Write down what you want to come over here.” Chuck wrote that he wanted his name on the door, and handed the pad back. Crispin said “okay”: and so began the agency Crispin Porter, in 1988. Crispin was not an adman, but a successful businessman. After three years, he was content to sell out to the Midwesterner, who later bought his son’s share. It was one of the few agencies in Miami. There was an exceptionally large freelance community – strong talent fleeing the winter in New York – but no one could afford to take them on full time. Chuck set out to build a proper agency. Crispin gave him the