‘RIP, dear Bob Neuman’

“What’s she doing writing a blog post on a Saturday?” you might be thinking. Though no doubt you have better things to think about.

Well, I haven’t posted in a while. And besides, Dude Man and I are heading off on our fifth Brazilian Birding Adventure (Oldest Younger Brother Scott calls us the “Brazil Nuts.”) Our airport car is picking us up in a few short hours (!) so it’s good for an antsy traveler like me to have something to do besides pace.

Me, pacing the balcony on the last day of our last trip to Brazil — which was just a month ago (!)

So. Bob Neuman. Bob left us for the Great Creative Department in the Sky just a few days ago. When I found out (Thank you, Richard E!), all kinds of memories popped into my head. Like how Bob collected wine corks and kept them in the most humongous glass beaker I ever saw. How he smoked big ole cigars. How he was droll and witty and had a sense of humor drier than the driest martini. (He liked those almost as much as cigars.)

Me, back in my Ogilvy Days

I worked for a lot of creative directors back in my Ogilvy Days, and Bob was one of my faves. One day he stepped into my office — and shut the door. Well, in advertising (or in any kind of business, I imagine) your boss closing your door is not a harbinger of good news. I was definitely wary.

No, this isn’t Bob. This is another late lamented CD. Read about him in “Harvey and the Grilled Half Goat Head”

Then Bob says, “I understand your husband is an ophthalmologist.” “Yes, he is,” I replied. Then Bob — who was in his late forties or early fifties at the time and wore thick thick glasses — tells me that he’s been to two eye doctors about his cataracts. One told him to have them removed; the other told him to wait. “I need a tie-breaker,” he said.

So I gave him Dr. Dude’s info, and the next thing I know he’s not only seen The Dude, but he’s having his cataracts removed by none other than The Dude. “You’re still a young man,” His Dudeness had told him. “You deserve to be able to see.”

Me, at an Ogilvy reunion, clutching a martini and looking alarmed while hearing about how I almost died on a shoot. (The speaker had mistaken me for some other Ogilvy alum)

Needless to say, the night before Bob’s surgery, I made sure Dr. Dude got plenty of rest. “You don’t want to mess up,” I needlessly reminded him. “That’s my boss you’re operating on.”

Also, needless to say, the surgery went beautifully.

One of my favorite shots of those golden Ogilvy Days (again not featuring Bob; I, alas, have no photos of Bob)

After a few weeks, when both his eyes had been successfully rid of their vision-clouding cataracts, Bob again stepped into my office. And again — shut the door. What now?

Well, Bob just wanted to thank me. And while doing so, I see tears in his newly clearly-seeing eyes. He was that overcome with emotion at having his vision back.

And that’s not the end to this lovely Bob Tale. Bob was so pleased with how his surgery turned out — and so pleased with Dr. Dude in general — that he told all his friends and all his colleagues to go to Dr. Dude. Pretty soon, Dude Man was seeing everyone in advertising: not only creative directors (Hi, Tom R.!), but writers (Hi, John G.!)  and art directors (Hi, Grant P.!) and producers (Hi, Nancy V. and Annie L.!). They all told their friends and colleagues and soon we got directors and editors and actors and even clients. Basically, everyone who is anyone in the Ad World now goes to Dr. Dude.

My Ogilvy sample reel. I’m pretty sure at least one of the editors there started going to Dr. Dude

And we owe it all to Bob. So yes, you could say that Bob Neuman put our kid through college.

Thank you, Bob. I hope the angels don’t mind cigar smoke.

New York City. March 2024