#42 The Magic of Personalization

Issue #42 - Tuesday, February 12, 2019

http://dennyhatch.blogspot.com/2019/02/42-magic-of-personalization_12.html

Posted by Denny Hatch

The Magic of Personalization

I have always been fascinated by presidential scandals.

     In the early 1970s I was gripped by Watergate—couldn't wait for the latest CBS-TV news from Walter Cronkite and read everything I could get my hands on.

     When it was revealed that President Nixon had bugged himself and the transcript of all his Watergate tapes were offered for sale by the Government Printing Office in a massive 1,200 page book, I immediately ordered it, read it and made notes throughout.

 In a moment of mischievousness—just to see what the hell would happen—I wrote the President a formal letter asking if I sent him my annotated copy (paying postage both ways) would he and James D. St. Clair [Nixon's personal lawyer] sign it and return it to me?

     Several weeks later I received this deadpan response from the White House:

This was the real deal. My request probably circulated around the Executive Mansion and Roland Elliott was tapped to write this reply. I dined out on it for several weeks.

     Whereupon the letter from the President himself at the top of this post arrived in a real White House envelope and White House stationery and signed by the President.

     Peggy opened the letter while I was still at the office and she called me. She was hysterical—incapable of coherence. She was laughing so hard that she could only burble, "You've gotta come home and see this!" and hung up.

Was Nixon's letter real? It sure looked real! 

The personalization was stunning. Nixon was known to use tough language. And there was precedent for such a presidential letter. 
     I vividly remember the front-page brouhaha on December 6, 1950 when President Harry Truman threatened to beat the crap out of Washington Post music critic Paul Hume for roundly panning a concert by First (and only) Daughter Margaret Truman.

From the President's hastily scrawled, hand-written letter on White House stationery:

Translation:
     "Some day I hope to meet you. When that   
     happens you'll need a new nose, a lot of     
     beefsteak for black eyes, and perhaps a 
     supporter below!"

   We dined out on our Nixon letter for several days, until the publicity director of the CBS-owned publisher of the paperback edition of my second novel, The Fingered City—Tom Baskind, as naughty as I am—surfaced and gleefully confessed to the ruse.

     It was an elaborate gag. It required an operative in D.C. to filch some White House stationery. The letter had to be written, the envelope typed and mailed from the D.C. Post Office with ZIP code nearest the White House (probably what is now the Trump International Hotel).

     Sidebar: The stationery was real. "THE WHITE HOUSE" in the letterhead was deep blue and available throughout the Executive Mansion for official correspondence by staff and overnight guests.

     Cognoscenti would know that a real letter signed by the president would be on limited edition stationery with "THE WHITE HOUSE" in apple green.

Flawless Personalization Made the Hoax Believable

Okay, it wasn't flawless. My name was spelled with two n's in the middle. Alas, my Denison has one n in the middle. Were it two n's, I would be in the Avery Dennison packaging and labeling family and rich as King Croesus. 

     But it was real enough to fool Peggy and me for a delicious few days!

     Compare this to the jackass who recently sent me a "personal" email with the following salutation:

Dear Hatch, Denny,

      I immediately clicked "delete."

What Triggered This Post: Email from a new Subscriber 

FROM: Henry Ne__   <henry@team_____.com>
TO: Denny Hatch
Today at 4:46 AM
Dear Denny,

Thanks for adding me to your mailing list.

I have been reading your 85 Point 'Checklist for Marketers' with interest. It's no criticism but sometimes we forget to practice what we preach - and I am as guilty of this as anyone.

See below what I mean. From the Checklist:

49. The computer is magical. It can print letters with personalized name, address and salutation at the top and blue signature at the bottom.
• If your letter is personalized, does the typeface in the personalization (date, name, address, salutation) match the typeface in the body of the letter?


Now see the email I received from you.

Same typeface I agree but different font size.

I would also have simply used the salutation 'Dear Henry'.

Henry

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

Denny Hatch's Reply to Henry Ne_____:

Dear Henry, 

     Good gotcha. Thanks for pointing it out.

     A guy who has been on and off my radar over many years is Robert Coates—I think I did some work with him a while back, but I'm damned if I can remember the client.

     Coates once said to me, "Do you know how to tell a true direct marketer—someone who loves direct marketing?"

     "Tell me," I said.

     "That's a person who is handed a list of names and addresses (street addresses) and immediately starts studying it—looking at the names and addresses, imagining the faces and homes of the people on the list."

     Coates nailed me. Any time I am handed a list of names and addresses—or even one name and address—I am stopped and begin to imagine the person or people whose basic info I am looking at. I am a sucker for lists.

The Magic of President Franklin D. Roosevelt

Franklin Roosevelt is regarded as America's third greatest president. His use of "Fireside Chats" on the radio was brilliant. No ponderous, pompous Oval Office posturing or thunderous media events in stadiums pandering to his "base."

 Zenith Console Radio, c. 1940

TV did not exist in FDR's time Just radio. Just his ringing patrician voice for the family to hear on the Zenith console in the living room or the Philco table model in the kitchen.

The reason for his Fireside Chat success was this: before he went on the air to read his talk, he imagined a family gathered around the radio waiting to hear him—husband, wife, grandmother, children. He felt he actually knew the people he was talking to. The result, FDR was trusted and beloved by the whole country. He was at once calming, angry, emotional, reassuring, uplifting and inspirational.

     He won reelection by huge margins. FDR was the ultimate long distance marketer. Terribly crippled, confined to a wheelchair and carried like a baby from place-to-place in the arms of his African-American valet Arthur Prettyman, he could not get out and mingle with the electorate. The White House was his jail. Two trusted surrogates traveled the country and the world and related to him what they saw: his wife, Eleanor and unofficial "deputy president" and personal sidekick, Harry Hopkins.

FDR "Knew" His Audience—Personally

How did this rich, upstate NY member of the landed gentry get to "know" the people of his country? In 1927 he bought a 1700-acre spa in Warm Springs, Georgia. Roosevelt opened the facility to Polio victims like himself. They were all ages, all backgrounds, all demographics. Rich, poor—all were welcome to live there and rehab in the magnificent swimming facility that was a constant 88 degrees year round. 

     When FDR was there in the pool, in the dining hall or around the campfire he loved gabbing with the people. That's how he got to know average Americans—their fears, their loves, disappointments and hopes.

Modern Technology—Phooey!

As a pre-TV (radio, newspapers and magazines), pre-Internet (snail mail) guy, I inherently do not trust technology. When I started this cranky blog I contracted with Constant Contact to maintain my subscriber file.

     I decided I did not want names coming directly into Constant Contact nor allow automatic replies going back to my subscribers/family from the Constant Contact bots.

     When someone sends me email—whether it's just a name and email address or a message—no automatic reply goes out.

     When you wrote asking to avail yourself of my services, I sent you a carefully crafted welcome letter. It requires one click from me to put into the body copy of my welcome message. But to satisfy my (very probably sick) neediness to feel I am truly interacting with my new subscriber/colleague/friend, I personally type the salutation, "Dear Henry ____,"

     Having typed your name and pressed "SEND" I know who you are—a member of my family of readers. I then hand-enter your name and email address into Constant Contact.
     So I screwed up. The typefaces matched; the sizes did not. As I said, "Good gotcha."

Two Reasons Why I Erred

1. I was careless. Sloppy.

2. The Creeps at Yahoo.

I have used Yahoo for a lot of years. I hate the bastards for a whole lot of reasons. Here's a damned good reason—Yahoo's naked theft of my private emails and selling the contents to strangers.

     For years, Yahoo has faithfully allowed me to use Verdana type (they call it "Modern") in my email messages. Lately, however, when I write an email in "Modern" type, for some reason the message goes out in Times ("Classic" in Yahoo-speak). My signature and address were in Verdana. The salutation and message was in Times. The whole thing was clearly impersonal. I said screw it, I'll make everything in Times.

     Same thing with type size. I have crappy eyesight—20/400 plus cataracts. I miss subtle differences. The salutation might be bigger or smaller.

     Not said on your part—but implied: I am a hypocrite. I don't give a damn.

     Well, I do give a damn.

     I do my best in this digital world to personalize the impersonal.

     For a guy 83, dealing with technology is a bitch. I will go to my grave trying to persuade the world that human beings are not simply blips of data.

     In short, I am sorry for my error. I am as offended at myself as you are with me.

     Thanks again for taking the time to write.

     Do keep in touch.

     And never be shy about giving me hell when I deserve it!

     Cheers.

P.S. Regarding your closing admonition:

You wrote:

>>I would have simply used the salutation 'Dear Henry'.<<

     My response: We have never met. Until now, I have never heard of you. I am a traditionalist who believes addressing a complete stranger by the first name is impertinent.

    For example, I wouldn't dream of addressing the President of the United State as Dear Donald...

      

• Regarding the honorific of Mr., Mrs., or Miss, you do not always know a person's gender by the first name. At my first job in publishing many years ago, the company had a longtime, very distinguished author of children's books, Noel Streatfeild, OBE. In my first week on the job I wrote a letter to Mr. Noel Streatfeild with the salutation, Dear Mr. Streatfeild. Noel Streatfeild was a woman. I got roundly reamed out by the president of the company.

• So IMHO, the proper salutation to a stranger is Dear [First name] [Last name].

• In my second letter to you, I addressed you as "Dear Henry." That's because your initial letter to me started, "Dear Denny." That was your signal to me that we are now on a first-name basis.

Takeaways to Consider

• "The two basic tenets of selling are:

     1) People buy from other people more happily than from faceless corporations.

     2) In the marketplace as in theater, there is indeed a factor at work called "the willing suspension of disbelief.

     Who stands behind our pancakes? Aunt Jamima. Our angel food cake? Betty Crocker. Our coffee? Juan Valdez. Anyone over the age of three knows that it's all a myth. But like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, the myths are comforting." —Bill Jayme, Legendary Freelancer

• Always remember L.L. Bean's Personal Guarantee:

 This was not some nameless "We" of a faceless corporation. This was signed in blood by the owner himself who had brass balls that went CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

• On the subject of envelopes in your mail [and the salutation in your email]:

"People first look at their name. To see if it's correctly spelled. If the initials and title are right, it's for them!" —Dr. Siegfried Vögele (1931-2014), The Handbook of Direct Mail.

• In short, if you decide to personalize a message, getting it right is essential. If the person's name is wrong, you are incompetent and thereafter everything from you is suspect.

• I hate Dear Sir/Madam or Dear Friend. But it's more honest than Dear Hatch, Denny.

### 

Word Count: 2,080

At age 15, Denny Hatch—as a lowly apprentice—wrote his first news release for a Connecticut summer theater. To his astonishment it ran verbatim in The Middletown Press. He was instantly hooked on writing. After a two-year stint in the U.S. Army (1958-60), Denny had nine jobs in his first 12 years in business. He was fired from five of them and went on to save two businesses and start three others. One of his businesses—WHO’S MAILING WHAT! newsletter and archive service founded in 1984—revolutionized the science of how to measure the success of competitors’ direct mail. In the past 55 years he has been a book club director, magazine publisher, advertising copywriter/designer, editor, journalist and marketing consultant. He is the author of four published novels and seven books on business and marketing.

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