Mad Men, page 23
If Draper feels his control over Megan beginning to slip away in this episode, then one might say the same thing for his relationship with Peggy Olson, who has functioned as his protégée throughout the series but now appears ready to go out on her own. When Peggy expresses strong disappointment when Draper rejects her plan for a project that would take her to Paris on business, Draper throws a wad of money in her face and suggests that she should use it to help finance her own trip to France. The action is clearly a demonstration of power, a way of reminding her who is boss. It is little wonder, then, that Draper is shocked when Peggy responds by looking for employment elsewhere, ultimately accepting an offer from Draper’s personal archrival, Ted Chaough, to become chief copywriter at the firm of Cutler, Gleason, and Chaough (CGC), one of SCDP’s most direct competitors.
When Peggy meets with Chaough, they both try to pretend that it isn’t about the money, but when Peggy asks for an annual salary of $18,000 and Chaough responds with a counteroffer of $19,000, the deal is sealed, seemingly on the basis of cash. Still, the point here is not so much about the money as the appreciation, the one thing Peggy feels that she is not getting from Draper. That money is not the issue becomes clear when a stunned Draper tries to make Peggy a counteroffer, assuming that he merely has to name a high enough number and she will stay. “There’s no number,” she tells him. Apparently unlike Joan, she has no price, though of course Draper was never going to offer her the kind of payment that Joan received for her prostitution to Rennet.
If this comparison seems to work to Joan’s disadvantage, it is also true that much of the strength of the characterization of Joan in Mad Men lies in the refusal of the series to idealize her as a paragon of virtue. Though largely admirable and sympathetic, she is a character with many facets, and her ambition can sometimes make her at least as ruthless as any of the men she confronts on her path to success. She can, in fact, be downright mean-spirited when it seems in the interest of her own ambitions to be so. In fact, she has occasional bad moments, even when no ambitions are involved. In Episode 2.2 (“Flight 1”), Paul Kinsey hosts a bohemian party at his artist’s digs in Montclair, which allows him to show off his new black girlfriend, Sheila White, who serves as a key marker of Kinsey’s pretentious liberalism. Joan, who had once been involved in an affair with Kinsey herself, responds to Sheila with absolute condescension, at the same time making sure she reminds the younger woman of her own history with Kinsey: “It’s good to see you and Paul together,” she says, cattily. “When Paul and I were together, the last thing I would have taken him for was open-minded.”
Late in the series, when Draper has unraveled to the point where Joan considers him a liability to the firm, she is among those most strongly in support of taking action to get rid of him, despite the fact that the two have shared a sympathetic personal connection of sorts at several points in the series. At times, in fact, the two have seemed on the verge of a potential romance, though this sort of relationship in fact never develops. In Episode 5.10 (“Christmas Waltz”), Joan throws a tantrum in the office after she is served there with divorce papers by Greg: she seems unable to bear the intrusion of her difficult personal life into the workplace, where she normally feels thoroughly in control. Draper intercedes and takes her with him on a “research” trip on which the two test-drive a Jaguar XKE, pretending to be a married couple. They then have a drink together, and Draper (himself newly remarried) tries to cheer her up by assuring her that there is life after divorce. He then leaves without making a move, though they definitely share a moment. This moment, in fact, is no doubt part of the reason why Draper reacts so strongly against the firm’s decision to prostitute Joan to Herb Rennet in the very next episode. Joan, for her part, expresses appreciation for his attempts to prevent the exchange, tenderly telling him, “You’re one of the good ones.” We (and Draper) find out only later that her assignation with Rennet has already taken place.
In Episode 6.3 (“Collaborators”), Rennet resurfaces when he comes by the offices of SCDP to discuss their ongoing business with Jaguar, but first drops in on Joan to try (leeringly) to suggest an ongoing relationship. Her claws come out, and she has no trouble expressing her contempt for the man. She then stalks into Draper’s office to get herself a drink, while Draper goes off to meet with Rennet, who proposes that the campaign developed by Draper and his team be modified to emphasize local radio ads rather than national television. He then suggests that Draper pitch the idea to the other Jaguar reps, given Don’s skills with such things. Draper, already hostile to Rennet over the Joan situation, is furious—then responds by helping pitch the idea per Rennet’s request, except totally incompetently, pushing Rennet’s idea into the realm of the ridiculous (such as local flyers and mailers) and thus sabotaging the entire proposal. Confronted by Campbell and Sterling after the meeting, Draper responds that continuing to give in to Rennet’s demands is like “Munich,” referring to the attempt to appease Hitler before World War II.
Draper obviously takes the selling of Joan to Rennet quite seriously. His resentment toward Rennet finally boils over in Episode 6.6 (“For Immediate Release”) when he “fires” Jaguar and announces that SCDP no longer wishes to represent them thanks to Rennet’s ignorant interference. The loss of this key account, however, torpedoes a plan cooked up by Joan, Campbell, and Bert Cooper to take SCDP public, a move that would have made Joan’s 5 percent stake worth a hefty amount of money. Draper thus manages to squander any good will he might have built up with Joan, instead drawing her ire because she feels he has cost her a considerable amount of money.
In the sixth season, this ire shows itself when Joan supports Draper’s exile from the firm after his meltdown during a pitch to Hershey’s Chocolate, and in the final season she will be among those who want to get rid of Draper altogether. On the other hand, she is not merely seeking some sort of revenge: she seems honestly to believe that Draper’s behavior is costing her (and the firm) money, and her attitude toward him is clearly motivated primarily by financial self-interest. She didn’t sleep with Herb Rennet only to have Draper lose the proceeds of that transaction for her. It is perfectly consistent, then, that she reverses herself and allies herself with Draper and Roger Sterling after the latter arranges to sell a 51 percent stake in the firm to McCann Erickson (with the stipulation that Draper is part of the package) for a price that might make Joan’s 5 percent worth more than a million and half bucks.
Joan seems to be riding high. As the newly reconstituted Sterling Cooper & Partners prepares for the future as an independent subsidiary of McCann Erickson, she is working primarily as an accounts manager as well as participating fully in partnership decisions. The deal with McCann Erickson turns out to be bad news in all sorts of ways, however, especially for Joan. When, in Episode 7.8 (“Severance”), she and Peggy meet with representatives from their new parent firm concerning SC&P’s account with Topaz panty hose, the men from McCann use the nature of the product as an occasion to deliver a stunning stream of sexual innuendos. Peggy tries to ignore them and remain businesslike, while Joan mostly just sits and fumes, growing more and more angry at the leering sexist remarks. She then has a fight with Peggy in the elevator after leaving the meeting, as Peggy suggests that Joan should probably expect such experiences, given the way she dresses. It’s payback, of course, for Joan’s earlier remark that Peggy dresses like a little girl, as well as a sign of Peggy’s resentment that Joan has become rich from the sale of the firm, while Peggy remains a mere employee.
This meeting at McCann is itself simply an indication of what Joan will face throughout her experience with the new company. After McCann breaks their noninterference pledge and absorbs Sterling Cooper altogether, Joan expects to bring her newfound accounts expertise to the new firm, but by Episode 7.12 (“Lost Horizon”), she finds that no one there will take her seriously—except as a potential target of what would now be called (especially overt) sexual harassment. When she complains to higher management, she is sternly rebuffed and offered fifty cents on the dollar of the half million dollars McCann still owes her from the purchase of SC&P if she will simply walk away.
Furious, Joan threatens to go to the press or perhaps the ACLU, but in reality she feels powerless in the face of her new corporate masters, especially after her old flame Roger Sterling appeals to her to take the money and run. She concludes that it really isn’t worth the fight and takes Sterling’s advice. Just as Peggy, the woman of the future, marches into the offices of McCann wearing a flashy dress and sunglasses, cigarette dangling from her mouth and Japanese erotic art piece under her arm, Joan (the woman of the past) prepares to exit the company altogether.
The symbolism seems clear, but the resilient Joan is not so easily defeated. In Episode 7.10 (“The Forecast”), Joan meets Richard (Bruce Greenwood), a somewhat older wealthy retired real estate developer, who is now divorced and determined to enjoy the rest of his life free of the constraints of either a business or a family. Richard and Joan strike up a relationship, which he quickly decides to leave when he learns that she has a son; Joan, in another of the problematic moves that complicate her characterization in the series, decides to send her son away so that she can be free to trot around the globe with Richard. The decision seems almost shocking, but Joan never seemed all that thrilled about being a mother. She is often good at helping others manage their problems, but this is a matter more of efficiency than of compassion. She’s not really the nurturing type. For his own part, Richard has second thoughts and insists that she keep her son. They will find a way to work around the boy, especially as Joan’s mother seems to provide most of his care anyway.
Retired from his own former life as a successful businessman, Richard wants now just to enjoy the rest of his life and he wants Joan to share that enjoyment with him. Unfortunately, he wants her on his own terms, available at any time to go with him wherever he wants. He wants her all to himself or not at all. So one might expect that, given Joan’s unceremonious departure from McCann, she might simply retire and begin jet-setting around the world with Richard, having sex, snorting coke, and generally living the good life.
Joan, however, still has one more trick up her sleeve. In the series finale (“Person to Person”), Ken Cosgrove, now head of advertising for Dow Chemical, asks her to help him find someone to make a new promotional film. Joan grabs the opportunity to form her own company to produce this film and others like it. She attempts to convince Peggy to leave McCann and join her in the new enterprise as a partner: “Harris-Olson,” she tells Peggy. “You need two names to make it sound real.” Peggy declines, despite her own stated ambition to be a partner somewhere someday, but Joan approaches the new undertaking with relish, confidence, and enthusiasm nevertheless. Finally, she will be the boss, with no men to answer to. There is still Richard, of course, but he exits quickly when he realizes she will be devoting so much time to her new business instead of to him. “What are you doing?” he demands petulantly. “Don’t you want to be with me?” Then he walks away, knowing that Joan’s new business will take more of her time and energy than he is willing to relinquish.
Joan prepares to face the future alone, having learned once again the price that women must pay to succeed in the business world. She is not pleased by Richard’s departure, but she still has something to prove and some new worlds to conquer in business, even after Sterling announces that he is changing his will to leave a sizable portion of his estate to her (and his) son, Kevin, thus securing the boy’s future and removing one of Joan’s major motivations to try to make more money. As if to punctuate her independence and the fact that she needs no one but herself, she even gets the desired second entry for the name of her company by adding her maiden name to her married one. “Holloway-Harris” will enter the 1970s with momentum and energy; it is not likely that Joan, always a force to be reckoned with, will fail, despite the special challenges that she will face as a woman whose sexual allure makes it hard for men to see her other talents for what they are. As the series ends, Peggy seems poised to move forward with both the man and the job of her dreams. Joan has only the job, but somehow it feels like Joan is the big winner of the two. The 1960s have become the 1970s, and Joan (the bombshell of the 1950s) has become the entrepreneur of the new decade.
Chapter 12
Peggy: Creating the Modern Woman
Greater development of women’s potential and fuller use of their present abilities can greatly enhance the quality of American life.—“American Women: The Report of the President’s Commission on the Status of Women” (1965)
The women’s ladder was one person wide. No woman could ascend unless somebody else was kicked off it. It became a lethal catfight and caused some very bitter competition.—Laurel Cutler, former advertising executive, 2008
Peggy. ABC/Photofest ©AMC
Bertram Cooper, the venerable advertising leader who founded the original Sterling Cooper with Roger Sterling’s father, uttered his last word in July 1969 as Neil Armstrong spoke to the nation from the surface of the moon: “Bravo” (Episode 7.7, “Waterloo”). The moment carries weight, symbolizing that Cooper’s generation and its ideas will not make the transition beyond the 1960s. Their antiquated views no longer matter, viewed by the youth swarming around the office as old-fashioned and simple as the senior leader’s demand that people entering his office remove their shoes. The era of figureheads is over, and the youngsters storming the gates are pulling down statues as they smash their way inside.
At the other end of the spectrum, and in contrast to the senior partner’s demise, is Peggy Olson’s ascendancy. Even Don, at yet another impasse in his attempt to return to full power in the agency he created, decides that it is Peggy’s time. He is willing to sacrifice his power in order to assure hers. It is as if the baton is being passed from the past to the future, not only in the agency, but also across the advertising industry.
While Cooper’s death overtly symbolizes the changing of the guard, Don and Peggy unfurl their status in Episode 7.6 (“The Strategy”), a deeper moment that is transcendent in the Mad Men oeuvre. Prepping late at night in an attempt to develop a pitch for the Burger Chef fast-food chain, their discussion moves from business to personal, even though Sterling Cooper’s fate may rest on the ideas they amplify.
Peggy, wearing her emotional life on her sleeve, admits that she turned thirty years old several weeks earlier and, with no family or even significant relationship, has no business attempting to sell Burger Chef on a family-related theme. How can she make such a case if she does not know what it is like to be a mother? Opening up, Don responds with his own list of fears about aging and losing his family: “that I never did anything and that I don’t have anyone.”
A few minutes later, Peggy is ready to give up and tears flow. Her emotional life and work pressure are too much to handle. Don, the gentleman, hands her his handkerchief. His words of encouragement set the stage for reconciliation after months of ill will. Draper, now in the role of subordinate, looks her in the eyes and provides the acknowledgment she has always desired: “You’re doing great.” Peggy’s eyes brighten and she ad-libs a new campaign. Don’s support enables her to break through the clutter, and a winning pitch comes to life.
In the background, dark night sky contrasted against the false whiteness of the office, Don hears the strains of “My Way” by Frank Sinatra. Viewing the song as an omen, Draper stands and puts out his hand. He reaches out to her for a dance, but she momentarily hesitates, giggling, then stands to join him. At first, they are awkward, the intimacy of the atmosphere causing them to keep a safe distance. After about ten seconds, though, Peggy places her head on Don’s chest. A little stunned, but full of pride, he bends down and kisses her head.
Although it is initially awkward, the dance between mentor and mentee—often a relationship filled with contention and anger—melts away as he realizes that the future is hers. There may not be a more heartfelt moment in Mad Men’s ninety-two hours. Don and Peggy have evolved full circle. She is not only recognized for being a powerful, important part of the team, but he is wise enough to help her get to a point where she can develop the winner. Don goes a step further, seeing that the only way to save the agency and the Burger Chef account is to have Peggy lead the effort. The show’s history—the deep, challenging relationship between Peggy and Don—culminates in the way Jon Hamm and Elisabeth Moss portray the characters and the scene is filmed. Their glances contain multitudes, and sly smiles indicate depth that they understand and the faithful audience appreciates. Draper’s approval is what Olson has coveted, to be valued by him specifically, and almost no one else.
This small moment speaks volumes.
Paving a Way
Peggy, like her mentor Don, is a conflicted and contradictory character, but as Mad Men unfolds, it is clear that she is the straw that stirs the drink. In various interviews, Matthew Weiner outlines a master plot that makes it fairly clear that Peggy is the show’s chief spark. He certainly does not want to alienate viewers or underplay Don’s centrality, so he discusses it as a joint effort, a kind of partnership that really would not work without the other. Weiner explains, “To me, their [Don’s and Peggy’s] stories are being told in parallel. The conflicts between them and their interactions with each other are definitely running side by side” (March 11, 2014).
Peggy’s journey from office girl to Burger Chef pitch is a fictionalized amalgamation of the lives of many women who paved the way during the real-life mad men era. She first appears on the program in a brief glimpse barely discernible within the framework of the pilot, the 6:41 mark of the first episode. The peek of Olson is from the back as she enters an elevator. She is just one of many people (mostly men) crammed into the tight space.
