8

The Advocate’s Approach

Your argument is the creation of an ironclad theorem that logically supports the hidden agenda. It is the superstructure of your pitch.

It was at McCann that my early training advanced a great leap because of another extraordinary fellow, one of my cherished mentors, Peter Kim. Soon after the disaster of the Coca-Cola loss, the CEO of McCann Erickson elected to bring in some new talent, starting with Peter as Worldwide Vice Chairman and Executive Director of Strategic Planning. Peter had been a wunderkind at J. Walter Thompson, becoming an Executive Vice President of Strategic Planning for the company in his late twenties. But that was nothing. Peter graduated college at eighteen, immediately entered the Ph.D. program, and was an instructor at New York University at nineteen! South Korean by birth and the son of an international South Korean businessman who emigrated to the United States, Peter came from a family of super achievers—his sister won a full scholarship to Julliard to study the piano at the age of nine—he was probably the greatest business winner I ever encountered. He believed you win through the “crushing weight of logic.” Peter once told me, “You don’t have to be the biggest guy in the room to overwhelm.”

No one could create and deliver a pitch quite like Peter. He would seize his audience, carrying them on a journey of crushing logic to an irrefutable conclusion. I can’t recall a time when he did not leave his audiences dazzled. It was magic to watch. Peter believed in careful sequencing: a powerful and exacting opening, a careful recitation of evidence, and an irrefutable summation. It was an invaluable lesson.

The Litigator

I like to think of the pitch not as a presentation but as an important case being argued in a court of law. As a kid, I used to watch Perry Mason, a television courtroom drama in which Perry invariably won his case. It seemed that in virtually every episode there was an opening scene where Perry leans on the railing, looks at the jury, and says with gravity, “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that my client could not have committed the murder because he was not there!” The drama unfolds and evidence, anecdotal and factual, is presented as exhibits A, B, C, and so on. Then, in a swirl of drama, Perry Mason delivers an impassioned close, showing that “My client should be set free because, as you have seen from the evidence, he is an innocent man!” This is precisely how an effective pitch is organized: with a powerful, themed opening that directly reflects the hidden agenda, a crisply organized recitation of evidence, and a compelling, irrefutable summation.

To understand this phenomenon and technique, I spoke with my friend Denny Young, who I interacted with when he was Chief Counsel to Rudy Giuliani. Prior to that, Denny had been Deputy United States Attorney when Rudy was United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York. He spoke of the techniques of being a litigator, reeling off phrases like “preponderance of evidence,” “burden of proof,” and “beyond a reasonable doubt.” He talked about putting forward a comprehensive argument he called the “flow of logic.” He urged me to spend some time looking at the techniques of litigators, and the next day I found myself amid stacks of law books dealing with this fascinating subject. When I was asked as a kid what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always replied, “a lawyer.” So I was in seventh heaven poring over these wonderful books.

Making Your Case

The first thing I found in common among the fine authors of the law texts I studied was the importance they place on the clarity and singularity of the argument. This is the tough part, but it is the crux of any legal case. To be understood, for people to grasp what you’re saying and to follow your argument, you must be as clear as you are compelling. The magic in the advocate’s approach lies in compelling clarity that comes from crystal clear logic. This is a critical reduction to an essential core that can be shared and understood by virtually all communities. Creating a logical argument is a step the majority avoids. As a result, most pitches are cluttered, unclear, and lacking in motivation. It is an act of courage to decide in favor of a single theory for your “case.” It’s hard. It requires a brutal decisiveness, and this is a key skill that separates the winners from those who fall short. The vital importance of a clear argument cannot be overstated. It is the structure around which your pitch is built.

Lawyers argue in two forms, the written brief and the oral argument. The first precedes the second. Generally, no oral argument is made unless a written one has been submitted to the court. I love this, because it reminds us that a winning presentation is based on painstaking preparation. A written brief requires discipline, and that the logic of the case has been painstakingly thought through. I have always believed that while the emotional intelligence involved in pursuit is paramount, it goes nowhere if it cannot be constructed into a persuasive, all-encompassing argument. I call it the logic of emotion. All of my legal books agreed on two very important elements for creating a compelling case: These are the theorem and the structure of your argument.

Your Theorem

The theorem is the narrative of your case. It is, in a few brief words, a unifying summary around which you present the issues and the supporting facts of your case. Litigators are urged to craft the theorem with the utmost of care. Every word is vital: they are cautioned not only to be economical in their use of words but to select them strategically. A litigator’s statements should always be forceful and compelling.

When you think like a litigator, you first must identify your theorem. A theorem is your hypothesis. This is your view of what you believe the case is about and a compelling summary of what you want your jury to believe. So if we were Perry Mason, our argument might read something like this:

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury I will prove to you this is a case of mistaken identity and that my client did not commit the crime, because he was with his sainted mother all evening.

In the case that you are making to win a business or create a following, the theorem is driven by the hidden agenda you have uncovered. For our purposes, the theorem must crystallize how you have connected to the hidden agenda of your audience. This is the organizing principle of your case, and the one around which all of your facts and support are arrayed. Here is the theorem for MasterCard:

Carpe Diem

You see these words before you? They mean “seize the day.” It is because this is your day … your time. You will stigmatize Visa’s platform of conspicuous consumption and become the preferred card in customers’ wallets, but most importantly in their hearts.

The Structure of Your Argument

Among all of the books I collected, noted among them was U.S. Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia’s work Making Your Case: The Art of Persuading Judges. Key in his discussions were the role of the syllogism in the theorem and how much time and thinking should be invested in creating an effective syllogism. As Scalia notes, “If you have never studied logic, you may be surprised to learn—like the man who was astounded to discover that he had been speaking prose all his life—that you have been using syllogistic reasoning all along.” (He was certainly speaking about Peter!) He goes on, “The victor will be the one who convinces decision-makers that his or her syllogism is closer to the case’s center of gravity.” Justice Scalia cited a structure for what he called a positive syllogism. I remember that in school my teachers called it the “if, then” sentence:

Major premise: All S is P.
Minor premise: This case is S.
Conclusion: This case is P.

Chief Justice Scalia argues that syllogistic logic is the most rigorous and therefore the most persuasive. He cites a simple syllogism:

Major premise: A contract is not binding without consideration.

Minor premise: Johnson provided no consideration for this contract.

Conclusion: This contract is not binding.

Looking back at the MasterCard experience, the syllogism might have looked like this:

Major premise: The value systems of “good revolvers” have become more inner-directed.

Minor premise: MasterCard’s value systems are inner-directed.

Conclusion: The “good revolvers’ ” card is MasterCard.

From this core theorem, the litigator assembles the argument and hangs all of the evidence from it. It is through the crushing weight of logic, stemming from this theorem, that the litigator shows that the hypothesis is so.

A successful pitch requires speaking in the logic of emotion directed at the hidden agenda.

Strike this and you strike at the heart of your customer’s desire.

Strike this desire, and you will win.

A good pitchman, like a good litigator, uses all the elements at his disposal: the real ambition, core, and credo, together with the hidden agenda at work. All of the elements combine with brutal clarity and persuasive logic. The advocate’s approach drives your pitch through the hidden agenda around which your case is made. You win your case with a clear assertion of the hidden agenda and by presenting convincing evidence, your leverageable assets, to create an irrefutable reason why your audience should follow you.

Okay, Here’s How …

When many organizations present a pitch, they often focus on a linear recitation of objectives, strategies, tactics, and the like, all in a nice, neat unconvincing sequence. The advocate’s approach moves the presentation to a very different place, one of advocating for your point of view in no uncertain terms. The advocate’s approach is compelling, moving, and should stir the audience. Remember, making a case is a whole lot different than reciting facts. A well-constructed case compels people to act, to believe, and to follow. Putting an argument together is a disciplined affair. Borrowing a page from our legal friends, I’ve made an outline you might find helpful. I use this logic flow to design every pitch I make, from those delivered at simple, informal, one-on-one meetings to those that entail bells-and-whistles extravaganzas.

The Opening Statement

This is a compelling recitation of your theorem in its purest and simplest form. It is a pithy, convincing summary, and the essence of your pitch. It must not be equivocal. It needs to make your case in no uncertain terms and articulate what is to be proven. The opening statement is driven by the hidden agenda and your connection to it. A good opening starts with, “I will argue that …”

Facts and Evidence

This is the process the legal folks call “discovery.” It is a painstaking review of all the potential facts relevant to the case. For us, this is the search for the hidden agenda; it includes the things you have discovered in your meetings with the prospective client as well as the clues you’ve found that uncover the desire of your audience. Then it becomes a process of selecting the right pieces of “evidence” to make your case. Think of the pieces as “Exhibit “A,” “Exhibit B,” and so on. Rather than being a linear recitation, the presentation displays compelling proof of your connection to the hidden agenda.

The Logic Path

This is a roadmap for your audience that shows how you will set out to prove your “case.” You can literally diagram the chain of your logic so that your audience will be clear about where you are taking them. Each of the elements at your disposal—the real ambition, core, and credo—and the hidden agenda all come together in crystal clear logic.

Summation

This is an explanation of the relationship between the facts and arguments that have been presented. It is a rousing summary of your “case” and what you believe your audience should do. The summation reinterprets your theorem, the hidden agenda upon which the pursuit rests, only this time it is woven with all the evidence and support you have presented as one coherent, compelling piece of logic.

The opening statement of the MasterCard pitch made it clear that now was MasterCard’s time, because an opportunity existed that would vault MasterCard to leadership and fame. The evidence was spelled out, in compelling cadence: the shift to inner-directed societal values; the genuine core of MasterCard; and the conceptual target of “good revolvers,” who believed they were buying good things for good reasons. The summation was put forward as a vision of the future, including a mock David Letterman skit of the “Top Ten Priceless” moments. Little did we know at the time that literally hundreds of “Priceless” spoofs (including some that cannot be printed here!) would one day race around the globe.

Your argument is a vitally important element in your successful pitch. It is the assembly and distillation of your point of view, and of supporting reasons to believe in your point of view, that you put forward to create your following. There is probably no greater test of the power of the advocate’s approach than a pitch for a revolutionary product, from Johnson & Johnson.

Making the Case to ACT UP

I have always had a deep affinity with Johnson & Johnson. At a moment of injury, be it a scraped knee or a cut on the forehead, I was lovingly attended to by my mother and a Johnson & Johnson Band-Aid. Johnson’s Baby Powder and Shampoo seemed to be put on this earth to help people, to be gentle and caring and to reflect the love of family, in line with the company credo I shared earlier.

In 1998, while I was at McCann, Johnson & Johnson, one of our key clients, invited us to participate in a review for a developmental product. The intention: the first home-access HIV test ever created.

The product would be both a product and service. Consumers could purchase a simple, discreet kit, draw a sample of blood the same way they would to test for diabetes and the like, and send that card anonymously to a central Direct Access Diagnostics laboratory. A confidential phone number was provided, and trained counselors and support services were ready to assist callers with their results. It was a revolutionary concept for an unprecedented time, when testing was taboo and scaremongering rife. Irrespective of the test kit’s controversy, McCann put its entire weight behind this effort. We knew what it meant to so many, and knew we had a responsibility to pursue and win this business.

The product was developed at a time when the root causes and treatment for AIDS were still being researched, amidst a growing belief that testing was the first key step in applying effective treatment. It was early days, and the stigma and fear surrounding the disease were enormous, as many did not believe that testing was the way forward. There were those who thought that testing was some sort of government plot to root out and persecute people with AIDS.

The hidden agenda: We need to know that your intentions are good.

Introducing the product was an incredible decision from the parent company, Johnson & Johnson. Amidst a swirl of controversy, the company believed in a product that, by definition, could help people profoundly. Early treatment saved lives, and this wonderful product could be a means of moving people into early treatment. Remarkable.

The Plain Truth

Our strategy for Confide rested on three key elements: our real ambition, the plain facts about testing, and Johnson & Johnson’s credo. All other elements would be arrayed in support. Our real ambition was simple. We all believed in the product because people who got tested early could enter treatment. We would save lives. Second, the product, because of its 100 percent confidentiality, would assure people that they could test safely and anonymously. Finally, the key underpinning of Johnson & Johnson’s credo would assure many skeptics that both the intention and the process were of the highest integrity.

I spoke earlier of Johnson & Johnson’s credo. I remember going to the headquarters to take our brief and whiling away the time as we waited to be conducted to the offices. I stared at that piece of stone in Johnson & Johnson’s corporate lobby, thinking carefully about what this credo meant. I reflected on what it meant for me as a nine-year-old with a scraped knee and what it meant for me now, as a person deeply committed to the AIDS issue and on the front lines for several years, about to pitch this momentous business.

The pitch team had been carefully selected, and many were working on a volunteer basis, having joined us because of our dedication to the fight against AIDS. Many of us were actively involved in organizations on the battlefront, including me. Our excitement was real, for the introduction of this revolutionary product represented the weighing in of a major American corporation; it was a courageous act, and we were going to make sure this product succeeded. We conducted a thorough and effective pitch and were awarded the business. The real test, though, of the confidence in our pitch for Confide did not come until well after the Johnson & Johnson presentation, at a meeting of AIDS activists.

Into the Lion’s Den

At a point well into the product development stage, marketing management at Johnson & Johnson decided that it would be important to engage with activists and opinion leaders in the AIDS movement. In doing so, they would be certain to get the buy-in and support of the frontline community, who up to this point had not been shy in their views. While getting this support was an important step, it was generally assumed that the product would be embraced wholeheartedly.

We arrived at a hotel and were shown into a very large conference room. A vast U-shaped table was populated by upwards of forty individuals, and another twenty-five or so were standing at the back of the room. It was not a happy mood. The marketing director began to speak, and I was positioned just behind him holding boards like some sort of game show hostess. After a few opening words of welcome, he turned the meeting over to me, saying, “Now I would like to ask Kevin Allen to speak about the program and the importance of the Confide launch.” I was stunned. I had expected only to hold boards aloft, not to face this formidable audience.

I stepped into the U-shaped arena, forming my words in virtually an instant. In a haze of nervousness, instinct somehow drove me back to the very simple core of our argument: Testing will stop people from dying. The other thing I thought of was the slab of stone. I reminded the audience of this massive wall, and, importantly what was written on it. I stated that we were put here on this earth to do good things for others, especially those who are in no position to help themselves. I believed that a moment had come when one of the world’s great companies, Johnson & Johnson (whose own credo is a dedication to patients and those who love and assist them), could offer a means for helping people move away from the near certainty of a shortened life from the complications of AIDS.

The room exploded.

I have never seen more contorted faces nor angry outbursts in my life, yet somehow, because of what I felt to be true, rather than retreat I drove further into that U-shaped arena. I maintained steadily, over the pounding I was getting, an insistence on the importance of this product and the support of a singular company whose credentials in the area of doing the right thing were unassailable.

Not quite knowing what to do next, I turned to a woman on the panel who had an HIV testing site in California. I had chatted with her prior to the formal proceedings, and she had indicated to me her belief in the vital importance of testing and talked of the progress being made with individuals who were diagnosed early. I yelled for the group to hush, then turned the floor over to her, whereupon this soft-spoken yet passionate woman held the group spellbound with details of her successes and why she believed there was no choice but to support this initiative. Her argument was simple: People are dying. Testing will save them. The commitment of Johnson & Johnson ensures the quality of the product. She spoke to the heart of the hidden agenda of everyone in the room, by recalling the spirit of Johnson & Johnson’s credo. She asserted that everyone in the room had a “moral obligation to support this initiative,” and she was quick to remind them that they might never get the support of a company like Johnson & Johnson again, so the time was now.

Just Testing

The conference came to a close with me, sweating and somewhat haggard, thanking the group and inviting them to the adjacent room for a cocktail gathering. Individual after individual, including some of the most noted AIDS activists in the country, acknowledged their support, each indicating that his attack was meant to ferret out the integrity of our intentions. They all agreed on the urgent importance of testing to society and that only Johnson & Johnson had the credo to overcome suspicions and concerns about this new product’s integrity and efficacy. Thankfully, widespread testing quickly became a norm and I know in my heart that a special credo, from a special company, played a part.

Peter Passes the Torch

After strings of pitch successes, my mentor and friend Peter Kim decided to leave the company. His future was never in doubt, as he revealed to me during a pitch to AT&T in Washington. Over many chardonnays in Georgetown he revealed that he, like other members of his family, suffered from serious congenital heart disease. Peter told me, to my shock, that he would not live past forty. He was resolved to live his life completely and to pursue entrepreneurial aspirations that were at last entirely for him. This was something he richly deserved, after doing so much for so many, including me.

I remember this emotional conversation vividly; I asked him how on earth we would get by without him and told him how inadequate I felt to fill such immense shoes. He told me how important it was that all we had built continue, and with all his kindness said, “Don’t worry, you’ll do it in your own way, just be your own special self.” There and then Peter reminded me, just as Ketchum chairman Bill Genge had so many years before, that a great pitch was about the courage and the strength to be yourself. As always, Peter’s predictions were absolutely right. He tragically left this world at the turn of the millennium, aged forty years. Fact is, I never filled those shoes, not even a fraction. They were just too big. But the road he paved made the way for the team that went on to win over $2 billion in new business over the next few years, a team that included folks I’ve mentioned earlier as well as the formidable, yet good-hearted Eric Keshin, then head of McCann Erickson New York (later COO worldwide); the wonderful Nina DiSesa as Chairman and Chief Creative officer; Nat Puccio, who had been his best friend since their college days; and Suresh Nair, another brilliant strategic planner who is now the Global Planning Director for Grey Worldwide.

And Now …

With a clear and persuasive argument in place, it’s time now to present your oral case. As one legal expert cited, your oral argument is a story of the issues at hand, and forms the crux of your case. Once upon a time …