Pytka shot it and it revolutionized advertising at the time.

He saw in me things I didn’t see in me.

God Bless, Dan!

-kevin

Tom Gabriel, because I was lucky enough to have him as my first CD (yeah, he’s an ad guy, but is that a crime?).

Robert Curran, because he helps keep me young, and because in a couple of weeks, his new son Graeme will help keep keeping me young.

Billy Zoom, of X, because he took ld, classic Rockabilly and turned it into primal Los Angeles punk; I tend to believe Mark Fenske must love the guy, too.

James Joyce, because he taught me cadence.

Mrs. Troxler of St. Joseph’s High School, because she taught me James Joyce.

Bob Dylan, because he taught me words can move people to action.

Tom Monahan, because he taught me a “legend” can be a nice, humble, friendly man.

Woody Kay, because he taught me all the curse words that rhyme with “Leonard” and “Monahan.” (Kidding, kidding.)

Frank Valenti (Milici Valenti Gabriel DDB, Hawaii), who taught me how to drink Scotch.

Others on my list, Michael Schwab, Andy Warhol, Tim Burton, Walt Disney, the Disney animators, Steve Jobs, the team at Pixar, Martin French, The creative Michael Jackson, Steven Spielberg, Ron Howard, Paul Rand, Benjamin Franklin… I can go on and on… but roll ‘em all up and that’s what has influenced me… and I continue to look for new influences.

Seven months ago I met this one person briefly. He just said a couple things to me while I was busy doing something else. But dang, if that didn’t cause a whole chain reaction in my mind. Seven months later and that creative moment is still in my mind. And if that person has any idea of who he is, I just gotta say thank you. I don’t really want to analyze it, and don’t understand why things like that have to be analyzed. I can just acknowledge it, be grateful it was there, and hope for more.

The racist, closed-minded mentality of the rural south in the 60s. Growing up in a sweatbox of old-south, traditional “values” taught me to those most deserving of my respect are the ones who stand up against what was wrong, even if it cost them dearly.

The late-night, AM radio waves that wafted into my small-town and the DJs who filled them with music. In particular, Wolfman Jack, out of New Orleans, and a now forgotten DJ who spun records very late at night at the local station - everything from Captain Beefheart and Zappa to the Doors and Byrds to T Rex and Bowie - until the town fathers got him fired for playing “subversive music”.

National Geographic magazine - the best introduction to the enormity of wonder a kid can possibly have. And, of course, Mad Magazine - which taught me to worship at the feet of pure, dumb irreverence.

The Vietnam War and Walter Cronkite. This period and the man who so eloquently spoke for it helped teach me to question everything - a valuable quality in this business and in life.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Jack Kerouac, William Kennedy, Philip Roth, Cormac McCarthy, Donna Tartt and the slew of writers who remind me of the beauty and power of words.

The great, unflinching films of the late 60s and 70s: Five Easy Pieces, Midnight Cowboy, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Chinatown, Taxi Driver, the Graduate, The Godfather, et al. To see the human soul in unvarnished conflict is a revelation. A textbook period for dialogue and raw filmmaking.

The punk movement and its music. Loud, fast and far smarter than many might think.

Finally…my dear, departed “uncle” NR - a family friend who taught me from an early age that one can be eccentric, smart and downright weird and still do fine in life. And Mr. Grass, my high school band instructor. Still one of the coolest guys on the face of the planet, even while fronting an aging, Elvis tribute band.

I have to admit, while I respect many in our industry, none have inspired me the way outside influences do. It’s the larger world that feeds our much smaller one…something I fear may be forgotten in the narrowly focused ad schools churning out tomorrow’s writers and ADs. But that’s another topic for another time….

Max Roach: I discovered jazz as a kid and grew to worship this guy; not only did he look cool as shit when he was young, he redefined jazz drumming. The guy actually plays melodies on the traps. He is a gorgeous, immortal giant of music. Roach made me think of music — and drumming — in a radical new way, and that’s translated into my writing. If rhythm, pacing, phrasing and attack mean anything in this business, we can learn volumes from Max Roach, especially those of us who write. I love this man.

My Best Friends: I got really lucky as a kid. My best friends were all massively creative, talented, big-hearted people. Three musicians, actors, performers, artists. We wrote plays, we had a radio show in high school (Vrai Lettuce Studios — that’s “true ruffage”), played music together, on and on. I don’t care if what we did sucked. These guys taught me to break from the mundane, to reinvent everything, to never accept it if it isn’t magic. Karl Pasch, Steve Plasse, Tommy Carey. I hope you’re lucky enough to meet these boys one day.