“I REMEMBER THIS ONE TIME WITH BOB ISHERWOOD...”

BY ALIXANDRA RUTNIK ON JUL 01, 2024

Get to know our Creative Hall of Fame laureates with stories from their friends and colleagues

The Creative Hall of Fame has a rich history dating back 60 years that has honored more than 225 men and women in advertising, design, branding, illustration, photography, typography, and education. And this September 5, we will be adding nine more incredible individuals to that list, alongside recognizing the Type Directors Club’s TDC Medalist. You’ll want to grab your tickets and tables today!

In celebrating these nine inductees, we wanted to move away from simply posting their work and many accomplishments, and instead get the inside scoop from their friends and colleagues. We gave them each the prompt “I remember this one time when...” and encouraged them to share stories from the laureates’ pasts. They could be funny, poignant, a little bit embarrassing — or even all three!

So far we’ve featured Bob Barrie and Steve Sandstrom, and now it's time to debut the stories about The One Club’ s beloved Bob Isherwood. Before Bob’s creative development days at The One Club, he was the Global Creative Director at Saatchi & Saatchi and an adjunct advertising professor at Vanderbilt University. And for the past year or so he’s been having an excellent time sailing around the world.

Bob’s friends have shared some amazing stories that truly capture who he is as a person.

DAVID NOBAY CREATIVE CHAIRMAN, DROGA5

It was Winter. February 2002. Manhattan’s tobacco slush was already stacked fence-high against the Hudson Street kerbside. And no one there to help me drag the 60 kilos, AI flight case, containing two quarter-inch reels and forty-odd, laminated print proofs, across the icy forecourt that led to Saatchi & Saatchi’s towering HQ.

But that was the way Bob Isherwood had wanted it. Allegedly, I had a face that might be spotted. After three years at Bozell in New York, two as Tony Granger’s Deputy, I was, by now, a medium-sized fish in a very small pond.

And, technically, I had just accepted the role of Lowe’s CCO in the US. So, I was equally keen not to be spotted dragging an apartment-size portfolio around. Especially anywhere close to Bob Isherwood.

Remember, this was before thumb drives. Before EV’s. Only shortly after Penicillin. And anyway, this subterfuge was exotic. I probably felt like Jason Bourne. If Bourne had been written by then.

Inside the lobby, I presented my ID to a bored security guard and was pointed at the executive lift. The one that only went to the floor where the real Executives hung out. The floor, no doubt, closest to the helipad.

Up there, I had hoped to be met by Miss Moneypenny. Instead, I was deposited into a dark, empty corridor, leading to a locked glass door, illuminated by the Saatchi & Saatchi logo just beyond. So close, yet still tantalizingly out of reach.

And here I remained for 30 full minutes. And, keep in mind, this was before Instagram and TikTok, when isolation was tough. Just me and my comically large portfolio, alone in a dark corridor, on a wet carpet.

I was beginning to suspect this whole caper was a ruse by Gary Goldsmith to test my commitment to IPG, when the lift door opened to deposit a thin, spiky haired rockstar, cocooned in 30 feet of black scarf, and mumbling something about tunnels.

At first, Bob didn’t see me in the shadows. His head was down, prodding at his top-of-the-range Blackberry.

“Oh, Hello there. Is that you, Nobby?”

I touched my face in the darkness, just to be sure.

“Yes Bob, it’s me.”

“I think I’m late. Sorry.”

“No drama,” I said, hoping the Aussie euphemism would put him at ease.

“Why aren’t you inside?” he quizzed.

“Door’s locked.”

This small fact clearly landed as a big surprise to Bob. Until then, I now suspect, he’d never crept into his own office on a Sunday, alone.

“Do you know the combination to the keypad?” he asked, hope seeping through his words.

“No. Sorry. First time I’ve been here.”

More stabbing at the Blackberry as he tried his assistant. No doubt, the same number I’d tried earlier. Once more, no response.

“Fuck. I think she said something about being out of town today.” His Australian accent was distinct and low.

“Did she mention the door-code?” I asked.

“Yes. She may have.” He mumbled, more to himself.

For the next twenty minutes, we both sat on the corridor floor, avoiding the wet patches on the carpet, and made small talk. Miniscule small talk. Bob, it turned out, was a student of martial arts. Did I do martial arts? No, alas, I did not. But I used to work in Hong Kong. Did that help? Alas, it did not.

Later, as my eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, I noticed a second neon sign at the end of the floor, just below Saatchi’s glowing logo:

NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE

Those three words framed the silhouette of Bob’s profile. The neon perfectly illuminated his spiky hair. It’s still an image tattooed on my memory. The most elegant of snapshots. Happenstance, at its graphic best.

“Those three words framed the silhouette of Bob’s profile. The neon perfectly illuminated his spiky hair. It’s still an image tattooed on my memory.”

In the coming years, that same war cry would be given shape and context by the man sitting on that damp carpet next to me. The same man who would soon become my boss, then my mentor, and finally, and most precious of all, my dear friend.

ORIEL DAVIS-LYONS CCO, MOTHER, NY

“Shall we start a school?” the raspy Australian voice on the end of the phone said.

It was July 2020. I was in the middle of the woods in the Catskills with barely enough signal to answer the phone call that would turn out to be one of the most important of my life.

A couple of months before, I’d put out a public offer to help aspiring Black creatives struggling to break into the ad industry. Frustrated by barriers I knew didn’t need to be there, I’d started hosting online sessions in the hopes of opening a new door for as many people as I could fit on a Zoom call. There was no plan beyond scheduling the next session. It was the peak of the pandemic, the height of the George Floyd uprising and we were all taking each day as it came.

Then I picked up the phone from Bob Ishwerood. I didn’t know Bob personally, but we were connected by the threads of the industry as we’d both zig zagged across the global industry a few decades apart.

By the end of the call, we’d agreed to start a school. By the second call, Bob had come up with a name. By the end of July, I’d built the website and by mid-August, ONE School was open for applications. I realize now this was Bob’s superpower at work. Pure creative energy.

The curiosity and ambition to dream as big as you can but the restless drive to make shit happen. Bob is the reason ONE School not only exists but also continues to flourish today. He is the reason hundreds of young Black creatives now have jobs in the industry, even though they might not know it.

“Bob is the reason ONE School not only exists but also continues to flourish today. He is the reason hundreds of young Black creatives now have jobs in the industry.”

Bob is the creative I aspire to be one day. Always excited about a big idea. Unwavering in his commitment to the best execution of it. Undeterred by naysayers. Dedicated to creating opportunities for others. And although our paths crossed later in life, I am forever grateful that they did and now I get to call Bob a friend and mentor. I can’t wait to see what he does next.

MICHELE DALY DIRECTOR OF CREATIVE RECRUITMENT & CULTURE, JOHANNES LEONARDO

I remember this one time - the first time - I experienced Bob’s generosity. It was my first day at work. It was 2004. I was young, inexperienced, and had somehow talked my way into a massive job working for Bob as a worldwide creative recruiter for the Saatchi & Saatchi network.

On my first day, Bob surprised me with a brand new office. And when I say new, I mean that space actually hadn’t existed a few days earlier during my interview. Bob transformed a small kitchenette/pantry into an office for me, complete with a new wall and door. He was so delighted to show me, like a giddy kid with that Bob giggle of his.

“Bob transformed a small kitchenette/pantry into an office for me, complete with a new wall and door. He was so delighted to show me, like a giddy kid with that Bob giggle of his.”

Without having to say the words, I understood his intention. He wanted me to feel that I belonged, there on the global exec floor. He carved out a place for me, literally. And that truly meant more to me than I’m sure he ever realized.

From my very first day, I felt so proud to work for Bob, learn from him, and hopefully help him. His generosity of spirit shone through so purely, and I know all who worked with Bob have had the privilege of experiencing it in some special way.

PS - I had the amazing opportunity to travel the world with Bob, visiting Saatchi offices, attending award shows, and joining his famous Worldwide Creative Board meetings. But my favorite place to be was right there in my little office next to Bob’s, at 375 Hudson St, NYC.

LEO PREMUTICO CO-FOUNDER & CREATIVE CHAIRMAN, JOHANNES LEONARDO

I remember this one time on the 16th floor of the Saatchi & Saatchi headquarters in New York. Running from one thing to another, then down to the basement for a radio record. And there he was - Bob Isherwood behind the mic, blowing full throttle into a harmonica. It took me a while to comprehend what was happening. The Global Creative Director with so many offices to oversee, so much work to inspire, clients to lead, career orchestration to map out, deciding this was the best use of his time.

Respect.

I’ll be honest though, at the time my main concern was that I only had the sound engineer he was commandeering for about 22 minutes, and the last time I looked at the script, it wasn’t in need of a music backdrop in the form of a French harp.

In an industry increasingly dominated by science, Bob always carved out time for the creative soul.

So much of what we have to do as creative leaders is place value on the intangible. And Bob was a master of that. Whether it was curating and hosting a collection of minds to inspire the work to the next level, nurturing the careers of untrained creative leaders to reach their potential, or as was so loud and clear in this case - constantly nurturing his own curiosity in order to replenish his own personal creativity, and as a result, the creativity of everyone he would then come into contact with.

“So much of what we have to do as creative leaders is place value on the intangible. And Bob was a master of that.”

It’s no coincidence that during his time as the Global Creative Director at Saatchi & Saatchi, the New York Agency won Cannes Agency Of The Year. Bob was an undeniable, one-of-a-kind creative leader. But his body of work extended well beyond the advertising that left the offices he oversaw. His real work was the influence he left on the individuals who were fortunate enough to fall into his orbit.

ICARO DORIA PRESIDENT & CCO, DM9

The first time I met Bob in person, he walked into our small office on the 18th floor of Saatchi NY, where Menno Kluin and I sat – Bob walked in to our shock of seeing the legend in person for the first time.

“Bob walked in to our shock of seeing the legend in person for the first time.”

He said, “Menno, Icaro, I need your help” – and continued to brief us, “The founder of Publicis, Monsieur Marcel Bleustein-Blanchet just had a planet named after him. And we want to make an ad about it.”

I still remember the ad. It showed thousands of stars and the line said, “A planet has just been named after our founder Marcel Bleunstein-Blanchet. We think it’s this one.” And it had an arrow pointing to a random star.

JENNIFER SKIDGEL DIRECTOR, CREATIVE DEVELOPMENT, THE ONE CLUB FOR CREATIVITY

I remember this one time during a Zoom meeting when my daughter was happily creating art on her easel in the background and Bob Isherwood dropped the f-bomb.

But that isn’t the story I’m here to tell.

I want to talk about Bob’s commitment to nurturing creativity in the youngest of us.

I started working with Bob during COVID. Ellie was almost four years old and a regular guest in our morning Creative Development department meetings, usually creating art in the background.

One day, as our meeting wrapped up, Bob asked if I could have Ellie show him what she was making.

She eagerly described her treasure map, complete with sharks in a moat around the castle. With a twinkle in his eye, Bob gave Ellie her first creative brief for the weekend: pull as long a piece of paper as she liked and create a giant treasure map to review on Monday.

On Saturday, I asked Ellie if she needed help cutting the paper. She firmly said, “No!” I thought the project was dead in the water.

I was wrong.

Ellie and I went outside, and she used chalk to draw her treasure map. It started at the front door, covered the driveway, and wrapped around the entire house. She marked spots with Xs for pirate lookouts, traps where you had to turn around three times to escape, and hiding places where you had to count to ten before moving forward. It was the most detailed and immersive treasure map I had ever seen.

“With a twinkle in his eye, Bob gave Ellie her first creative brief for the weekend: pull as long a piece of paper as she liked and create a giant treasure map to review on Monday.”

On Monday, Bob asked to see what she had drawn on the paper. Ellie casually said, “I didn’t. It was too small,” and proceeded to tell Bob about her chalk treasure map around the house.

Bob looked at me and said, “Jen, she is REALLY smart. At four, she saw that the brief I gave her was too small, so she threw it aside and came up with something better.”

Ellie and Bob continue to draw pictures and write notes to each other, and I happily play courier.