For me, it’s about how we’re going to get to the finish line and make some great things happen.

Growing up, I wanted to be the best at anything I did. In the Army, I wanted to be the best soldier. I wanted to be the best apparel guy when I started in the apparel business. Later in life, I wanted to be the best ad guy.

Right out of college I went to work for an apparel company in Customer Service. I went to interview for a sales job, had no experience. So they said, “Well, we’ve got this Customer Service position available.” And I was such a cocky kid, I said, “I’ll take this job, but I want to tell you right now I don’t plan on making a career out of Customer Service.” They gave me the job anyway.

I stayed in Customer Service for about a year, until there was an opening to be the assistant to the national sales manager, which was one of the highest levels in the company. Under his responsibility came advertising. It was a very calculated move on my part. I lobbied for the job and got it. I studied night and day for about six months, and by six months I knew more about advertising than my boss did.

The agency that we worked with was Sanders, Pero and Morton. How do you like that? David Sanders and I worked together for ten years as I went from the assistant to the sales manager to the VP of Advertising and sales. At a young age I had a chance to work with Bill Blass, Jim Henson, as well as Oscar de la Renta.

One day Sanders offered me the chance to be an owner in the firm, and when you have an opportunity to explore and try something different, and maybe you could make a difference someplace else and experience some things that you would never have an opportunity to experience again…Sometimes you have to gamble. Life is a gamble. Business is a gamble. And sometimes you have to try things and see where they take us.

One thing’s for sure, though: we wanted to make some great things happen. And we are.

There’s this fallacy that advertising has to be loud in order to capture your attention. Sure, there are times for kicking the door down, but the terrain isn’t quite so flat as that. The consumer isn’t so one-dimensional. Approaching advertising with the sole purpose of out-shouting the other guy is lazy. It’s poor planning, and it isn’t respectful of your audience. But the simple ads, the ones that can communicate most directly with authentic creativity, can evoke an emotion or trigger one of your other senses beyond what’s already being engaged; these are the ads that work. These are the ads that I joined the business to make.

I was working in Nashville, which is a pretty progressive city, when I flew to El Paso to interview with Sanders\Wingo. Flying in, all I saw were these brown patches, what looked like buds in the ground. They were those sparse greenish pods of plants peppering the desert. And as I flew in, I caught myself thinking, “Where am I going?”

I got off the plane, and as the two gentlemen that were there to pick me up greeted me, I was admittedly a bit surprised. This was in 1989. Yeah, it was several years ago, but it was still the post-leisure-suit era. One of the gentlemen, about 80 or so, was wearing an old fedora and a gray flannel suit. Standing next to him was his creative director, maybe 60-something and wearing a grey pinstripe suit with this old, antiquated-style tie. You know, the fat, short ties made of stiff, flammable-looking material. The kind you’re afraid to smoke around. Again, the thought hit me, “Where am I going?”

We climbed into David Sanders’ shiny BMW and drove to the S\W office. One of the first people I was introduced to when I arrived was Bob Wingo. Clearly, he was a sharp gentleman, inside and out. He was wearing a clean three-piece suit, very contemporary for the time, and was just such a contrast to what my first impression was when I initially got off the plane.

Those 10 minutes of speaking with Bob made it so clear to me that I needed to be a part of this business. I could feel the energy and the drive he had. It was very clear that Bob Wingo was the future of this agency. I was struck with a new thought. I realized, “This can go nowhere but up.”

And in the years since, we have completely reinvented ourselves. It shows up in how we produce work, how we approach work, and how well our work is received.

I started at an ad agency doing paste-up and grunt work, but I would wander around the halls at night, looking at all the people doing real work. They had drawings up, storyboards, theme lines and photographs. I was transfixed. Not only was it art, but art with a purpose.

Ninety percent of everything in our culture is mediocre. Stuff just lies there, whether it’s advertising, architecture, automotive design, film, whatever. But sometimes, you come across a movie or a play or a building or a new product. Something that people really put a lot of thought into and that really captures human nature and human need. Not just the stereotypes, but those quiet little things we do without knowing we do them.

It’s the same thing in advertising. When a brand can reflect back to somebody how he or she is as a person, which they already knew, but see again in a surprising way … that’s pretty cool. It reminds me of a mentor of mine who had a list in his office of things he judged creative concepts by. My favorite, listed after the other half-dozen criteria, was “Is it magic?”

So here I am, 20 years after those nights wandering the agency halls. I’ve made all the mistakes possible, and learned from every single one. And now, I’ve assembled an A-team of creative talent. We’re working for some of the greatest brands in history, alongside some of the greatest creative agencies in the business.

And you know what? We’re making magic.

If I had to describe “urban” as an ethnicity, I would describe it kind of like the census does — I would check that box that says “other.”

I think urban used to be thought of simply as really eclectic communities in Chicago, Atlanta, New York; really metropolitan areas that were primarily African American. The term has evolved, though, and the Internet makes different communities much more accessible. Now, I think being urban is about maintaining personal truths. It’s not ethnicity that separates the urban market from the general market. It’s these personal truths — anything as consumerist as soft drinks or as expressive as apparel or art. Urban is a frame of mind. It’s an unwillingness to compromise your personal truths. Good advertising doesn’t combat this. It understands it.

One of my Aha! moments in this industry was when Scott McAfee said, “If the creative is good enough, the creative can run anywhere.” So when we look at creative through that lens, making sure the insights and cultural cues are there and making sure it’s relevant, it’s really about the consumer. And consumers are smart. They’re probably the real strategic planners, the real creatives. They just don’t know it.

The part when it really becomes fun is after all that work, when you’re in a room and everyone’s head is nodding. Not just the people you work with, but the client, everybody, gets it. And however the client measures success — be it dollars in cash registers, people walking into stores, whatever — when we realize that the work we’ve done actually moved the needle … that gratification is immeasurable.

And then we start all over again.

It was a 2 o’clock game, so the sun was out, and it was a beautiful day. Only three or four months out of high school, I was starting my first game of college football. My family was in the stands, of course. Everybody was cheering. Life had never been better.

So, at the start of the second quarter, I ran down the field on kickoff to make a tackle. I planted my cleat into the ground. My cleat stayed in the ground, but my knee kept going. Snap! I fell, tried to get up, and immediately fell back to the ground. I had torn my ACL, MCL and both menisci.

Now, I had worked my way up to a starter as a true freshman, so the only thing I wanted to do was get back on that field. But those efforts were unsuccessful, and I ended up having surgery to reconstruct my knee. To add insult to injury, my coach asked me to film practice. He said, “You’ll still travel to all the games; just be a part of the film crew.” Now, I wasn’t arrogant, but it was a little humbling. Here I was starting as a freshman, and now I’m being asked to join the film crew?

From sitting up in that booth, though, and watching what plays we were going to run, I saw the field differently. I learned the game a lot better, and when I returned to the field the next season, I was a smarter football player. Not only that, but I gained a lot of respect from my teammates when I joined them again, to the point that for the next three years I led them as team captain.

The turning point for me was learning that hard lesson of being a little humbled, and I clearly remember my humble beginnings in advertising. Starting out in the media department, I updated a flowchart every week and sent it to the client every Friday. I would make sure my little three-sentence e-mail was perfect. Those lessons learned early — about looking past yourself, earning respect, working together with people of all different backgrounds toward a common goal — have translated into what we do every day in advertising.

Since joining Sanders\Wingo, I’ve had the pleasure of leading our AT&T team through, not one, but two telecommunications mergers. I have had the opportunity to work on the types of accounts that many seasoned veterans don’t even get to touch. Legendary brands. And boy, that’s a whole other ball game.

If I weren’t a strategic planner, I would have to say I would want to be a Jedi. Yeah, I’d definitely want to be a Jedi. I’d love to be able to use my mind to move things or to talk people into things. On the other hand, though, I guess that’s what we do as planners anyway — influence people. So, maybe I am a Jedi. This is my calling.

I started my career in finance at Merrill Lynch. So I wasn’t in advertising, but their ad agency was doing a series of business-to-business ads, and they came to interview me when they were developing their strategy. And I thought, these ad people are the coolest people on the planet, and they’re having fun while I’m yelling and screaming and stressed out every day. I’m still yelling and screaming every day, but at least I’m having fun now.

What I really love about planning? Approaching the consumer in nontraditional ways to get the information we need. The methodology we use is different from the norm, which is traditionally people in marketing and the ad agencies sitting down and brainstorming on what product attributes are and what the benefits should be. Then you take it to the consumer and validate it. When you begin with the consumer, though, you don’t have to go through a lot of the validation you normally have to go through on the back end, because the consumer came up with the idea.

What is it that you want in a brand? What is it that you want it to do? What do you want to get out of it? Sometimes people can articulate what they want, sometimes they can’t. But if you can put the tools in their hands to show you, then you give them the ability to speak loud and clear.

I went out of the country for the first time thanks to advertising. The creative director was crazy and yelled a lot, and he was loud, and he was one of the best creative directors I’ve ever had. But I was scared of him, because he would just yell, and he would punch walls and wear women’s clothing. He looked hot, though. A genuine Ava Gardner.

So, he comes in and we’re pitching Adidas, and they’re going to Germany with the work. He yells, “Sigers!” and then his voice drops. “You’re going to Germany this Saturday, this Sunday, no, this Saturday. You’re coming with us.” He turns around to go and I say, “Uh, I don’t have a passport, Bobby. And it’s Tuesday.”

He looks at me like I was the most uncouth creature he had ever encountered. And he is like, “Get the girl a passport.” And he got the girl a passport.

But Bobby had to go to L.A., so I go with his two friends, his two weird foreign friends. One was from Australia. No, one was from … no, no, they’re both British. So, we get to London before heading on to Germany, and they’re both pretty much like, “I can’t believe this girl has to go with us. Blah blah blah blah blah.” And I’m shy, and I’m scared and whatnot. And they say to me snidely, “We’re going to dinner with Paul Arden. Do you know who he is?” And I say, “No.” And they scoff at me and say, “Paul Arden is one of the most important international art directors there ever was.” And if these two vain SOBs are quaking in their boots, and my boss thought this guy was great, then this dude must be the joint.

So, we go to dinner, and they take me along because I guess they have to. And we sit down, and Paul Arden is very charming, and he says, “So, what are you guys going to present?” And these two will only halfway tell him, because they’re thinking, “If Paul Arden doesn’t like it, we are not going to be able to present it tomorrow.” And so, I finally get tired of it, and I don’t think I’ve said three words the entire time, but I look up and I say, “The principle is that if Nike owns the air, let them own it. And Adidas needs to be ground control. It’s all about things that have to do with the streets and urban marketing. So, whereas Nike’s on Michigan Avenue in Chicago, Adidas should be on the South Side and have a giant facility and be about covering the real, down to earth. None of that lofty crap. It’s about being practical and real and gritty.”

And Paul Arden looks at them. And he looks at me. And he says, “Here’s my suggestion for tomorrow: send the girl. She’s charming and believable, and I like her. You guys should stay home.

“And also, my dear, your teeth are lovely. Are they yours?”

James’ unique ability to develop broad initiatives and key tactical details makes him priceless to our agency and our clients. His thorough understanding of business management and public policy helps our campaigns achieve success well beyond the scope of traditional advertising.

Before joining Sanders\Wingo in 2001, James spent eight years in marketing and public affairs with extensive practice in both the high-tech and mainstream industries. Beginning his career as an aide on Senate Majority Leader Bob Dole’s 1996 presidential campaign, James later served as a public affairs specialist for the National Association of Manufacturers in Washington, D.C., where he represented a range of companies, from General Electric to smaller 100-employee companies.

In 1999, James joined Austin’s National Instruments as a media relations specialist. He was also an account executive for Springbok, Cohn & Wolfe, designing and executing marketing communications campaigns involving software, e-commerce and technology services.

At Sanders\Wingo, he has overseen brand marketing and research efforts for clients, including AT&T, A-SA Rail, PlanView, State Farm, Fuddruckers and the U.S. Postal Service.

James has led our agency through multiple client studies, including the AT&T Multicultural Wireless AAU and Consumer Products Drivers studies; AT&T African American Wireless Consumer and Positioning project; AT&T Youth Marketing Trends, Attitudes and Behaviors Research Initiative; and the Austin-San Antonio Light Rail Consumer Positioning Research. James was also integral to the Not Just campaign that won the Mosaic Campaign of the Year Award for AT&T.

James enjoys witty repartee with his creative teams and collecting obscure trivia. He has two sons, Christopher and Grayson, and lives in Austin.

I’ve got some juice. Go ahead. Push me down a path you don’t think I can handle. Let me surprise you.

I mean, I’ve worked every angle. I started out at a local TV and radio station, a receptionist who moved to radio traffic, who moved to radio sales assistant, who moved to TV traffic and then to TV assistant. I learned accounting. I learned about the TV trafficking system. I learned all about the sales process, saw the intricacies of the process on the station side and how it works in conjunction with programming and ratings. What people are interested in and what buyers are looking for. That’s where my eyes were opened. While I was working at that station, I realized how much is involved, how much is at stake and how huge audiences can be. I’ve been in media ever since.

It’s an incredibly demanding, competitive industry. But it’s immensely rewarding when the job is done right. Several years ago, we did a lot of work for a client, and we were asked to put together a media plan for several of their products. It was a TV and national print campaign. So, we worked with the networks and publications to put the plan together and presented it to the client. Although they loved it, we found out that they had taken our plan and provided it to a larger media agency in New York, wanting them to look at it and give their thoughts. Basically, they wanted them to beat it.

We sometimes encounter this myth that we are somehow outside of the New York, Chicago, San Francisco advertising “inner circle,” if you will. Hearing that our plan was sent to a larger, New York agency stung a bit. It did. But after that initial feeling wore off, we were like, “You know what? Great, let them look at it. Let them review it. Let them tell you what they think. Let’s see if they can beat it.”

And they couldn’t. They could not beat it. Our buy was tight. There were no holes that this larger agency could get a hold of. It was right with the target. They couldn’t beat the budget. They couldn’t get more impressions than we were getting. They couldn’t possibly do anything better, and we ended up getting the buy.

So, yeah. Heck yeah. Push us down a path you don’t think we can handle. Let us surprise you.

What I love most about advertising is that each day is different. From the work, to the people, to the ideas — it’s impossible to predict what a new day will bring.

After working professionally for a decade, I struck out as a freelancer. By this time, I’d worked on a huge variety of national, regional and local accounts. I’d taken every run-your-own-business course in town; attended every happy hour, meet-and-greet, and awards show; and had shaken every hand in town. But start my own business? This confident, self-assured advertising professional was scared to death. But the time had come for me to step out on faith.

A former agency offered me a freelance gig, which I assumed was a stinker project that no one else wanted. It turned out to be a $50,000 project that got lots of exposure, including a feature in Adweek. This garnered a great deal of attention for me and jump-started my business. My plan had been to freelance longer, but I quickly gained more business than I could do alone.

I opened an office and hired a staff. We enjoyed a fast ride for five years, and it felt like we would ride this wave to multimillion-dollar growth. Then 9/11 happened and work came to a screeching halt. I learned from this experience that business has a lot more to it than just creativity. It takes dedication, hard work, strong relationships and lots of patience. I was humbled.

Looking back on my days as an art director, I get asked a lot, “How could you switch to account service?” It happened by osmosis. When I started my business, I had to sharpen my skills to deliver to client expectations, as opposed to just coming up with great creative. I studied strategy and learned the value of research, media and planning. I learned I’m interested in connecting all the dots. I’m deeply curious about people and what makes them tick, and I like making sense out of chaos. I’m definitely part left and part right brain. Even though I sometimes have to dress, look and act like an account executive, the creative still lives inside me.

There’s a shortage of common sense in the world. Advertising is not the answer. In fact, at its worst, it’s a numbing agent and a soul-depleting medium.

Understanding what makes us tick and what makes us uniquely and individually who, what, and how we are is, however, a worthy investment of one’s time. Being able to tap into these qualities and make a connection or positive association is even better. This is just one part of the process that gets me going.

Meaningful conversation is also scarce and comes at a premium. There is so little time and there are so many trifling messages vying for it. The least we can do as communicators is show a little compassion and respect for the attention of our audiences and one another.

What qualifies me to do any of this? Everything and nothing, I suppose. My mother has the memory of an entire herd of elephants. Her capacity for recall is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Storytelling is her thing. My dad has the patience of a saint. He is the world’s greatest listener. I like to think I got lucky and somehow ended up the meld of their minds and their manners. In my work and my life, I defer to the wisdom they’ve imparted over the years and attempt to channel their strengths to hear what people want, and then respond with something honest and compelling.

Our industry forces us to seek clarity. It also enables us to define it. And I can do it from just about anywhere, in a pair of torn jeans and a six-dollar T-shirt. What’s not to love?