81. Jane Slocum, Art Director

“Get your head out of the clouds, Simcha.”

Jane can be a rough customer. She has a clear idea of what she wants for her magazine’s style and look. And she drives hard to get it. The results, so far, have been good. Subscriptions and advertising revenue are up dramatically since she came on board. When asked about this, she credits the magazine’s editor and publisher. She claims that her “vision” is merely a reflection of theirs. But everyone involved agrees; Jane is something special. Before becoming the art director of what had been a respected but slowly sinking magazine, Jane had been a successful advertising executive, making significant contribution to her agency’s bottom line. She did not do that by being a smooth talker. She was often brutally honest and challenging in creative and client meetings. But also, compellingly persuasive. The main thing is she knew how to develop an idea and to put together a creative team that delivered the goods. But just when things were going really well, Jane quit. She was going to be a movie producer. The few people who knew her well weren’t too surprised. Jane always a little restless, always looking for something more exciting. She admitted then and admits today, it was a crazy idea. It started out poorly and seemed headed toward getting worse much sooner than later. So, it was lucky that the magazine job happened when it did. At the time, she was at the edge of being middle-aged and was beginning to realize that she was no longer as rough-and-tough as she was when she started out. She had obligations, a family, a mortgage. Most important though, she concluded that being a magazine art director is who she is. Which is funny because, starting out, it would have been the last job she could have imagined for herself. But she’s good at it and has a lot of fun doing it. It also happens to be a world away from what she was growing up. Back then, her name was Simcha. She was an only child of a deeply religious, immigrant family. Her father owned a small dry-cleaning shop and did a bit of tailoring. Her mother was a housewife. Neither knew a lot of English. Their hope for their daughter – maybe to marry an accountant or, if she got lucky, a dentist. “Dentists do very well, Simcha. Don’t forget that.” They were thinking a nice house near a synagogue and grandchildren. Simcha was not thinking that way at all. By the time she was fourteen, she was running a typing service for her classmates and saving for college. Her parents did not think much of this idea. Neither had finished high school, her father to go to work, her mother to take care of her own mother. “Men don’t marry women who are too smart,” her mother said. Her father agreed. “Get your head out of the clouds, Simcha. This college business is not for you.” Simcha finished high school near the top of her class, started a business services company, and began taking courses at a local junior college. She did very well. Two years later, she got a full scholarship to one of the best colleges in the country, sold her business services company for more money than her father made in a decade, and – after finishing her college coursework ahead of schedule –graduated at the top of her college class and got into advertising. Five years after that, she married Forrest Slocum and her first name wasn’t Simcha anymore; it was “Jane.” Her parents did not go to the wedding. Later on, they didn’t want to see Jane’s first child, a boy. Or her second. They knew she worked at some kind of business in a “fancy office with fancy people, doing who knows what?” They never met her husband and, anyway, didn’t think much of him. “Some husband he must be if his wife has to work. Some lazy bum.” On the job, Jane is all business. So, you wouldn’t think she’d care about what her parents thought. But it kills her. She knocked herself out to get away from their world. But now tries to bring them into hers. Or, at least, to share her life with them. It’s finally beginning to dawn on her, though, it’s a waste of time. “You are dead to us. You wouldn’t listen. And it won’t end up good, what you are doing. This I know.” That was the last conversation Jane ever had with her mother. Her father hasn’t answered the phone in years. Now that the kids are older, Jane figures, she’ll have to sit them down and do some explaining.

76. Marjorie “Mags” Svensen

Her Father’s Son

In more ways that she could realize, she is her father’s son. As a girl, even in her teenage years, she loved being with him. They played tennis. They camped in the roughest conditions. Later, she went her father’s alma mater. And then, into her father’s profession, chemical engineering. Along the way, he always encouraged her to do one better than he did. She never let him down. After getting a master’s in chemical engineering, Mags took a job with an international chemical company and quickly moved up the ranks, not only nailing a couple of patents but also showing unusual leadership and sales skills. Even when it came to a husband, she excelled in her father’s eyes. Ronnie is tall, good-looking, good company, and a great doubles partner. But even better, he is very smart. Who could ask for anything more? Before meeting Mags, Ronnie took a law degree and became a partner in a very prestigious law firm. His clients have included some of the most socially prominent people in the country and – in more than a few instances – the corporations that account for their wealth. And that has been a bit of a problem. In that circle, Mags is supposed to be a “proper wife,” a complement to and an ornament for her husband, an expert at charming small talk, a good mother, and an even better hostess. She is not supposed to have muscles, is definitely not supposed to drink beer with the boys, or to laugh too loudly. Or swear. Or tell amazingly filthy jokes. Or, even worse, to flirt. Mags gets enormous amusement from her flirting. She loves how it drives the women in her husband’s client circle insane. And how it drives their husbands even crazier as they realize that Mag’s flirting is just her way of making fun of them. It used to be far worse but, after Ronnie asked her to cut it out, Mags took on a more “corporate” demeanor and “behaved like a lady.” She even stopped making snide comments about conservative politics. But just lately, things have taken a bit of a different turn. First, her mother died and her father went into a deep depression. Then, Ronnie’s father broke his hip. Next, Mags got a big promotion. It meant that as an EVP she is being groomed to be President and CEO of her company. And finally, Ronnie announced that he hated his job, couldn’t stand his clients, and wanted to start a woodworking company. To which, Marjorie said, “You mean we can finally stop the bullshit with those awful clients of yours and have a real life?” Ronnie’s answer was, “Yes, yes, and yes.” They put a bottle of Champagne in the refrigerator and had a little party, all by themselves. She knows it will not be easy. As a lawyer, Ronnie made a ton of money; woodworking is not quite as lucrative. So, their income will come down a bit. She knows that her new job will mean a lot of time on the road. And she expects that their two boy-crazy, prep-school daughters will a bit upset about some of the changes ahead. But those camping trips with her father – sleeping in a tent in the middle of Maine winters – prepared Mags for anything. Maybe those two little overly-delicate girls needed a bit of that sort of experience themselves.