It's early September 1984. Benton & Bowles. I had been working with Roberto Fiamenghi for years. We had just completed the relaunch of the Fiat Panda, the launch of the Fiat Uno, and celebrated its recognition as Car of the Year. Gavino Sanna, the agency's creative director, walks into our office. "I've been in talks with Young & Rubicam for a while now, the grand old dame of Italian advertising - now a bit modest and sleepy. They want me as their new creative director to lead a radical transformation. It's a huge challenge. I'll only go if you both come with me as associate creative directors." He walks out. We swell with pride like stuffed turkeys, and it takes us exactly 3.2 seconds to look at each other and say, "Let's go." I don't think he had even made it back to his office before we caught up with him and confirmed we were in. He would leave soon, as he was too tied up with B&B's clients internationally. We, however, were two managers and had to give three months' notice (which was fair, to avoid decapitating the agency). So, we were set to join Y&R in January 1985. We resigned, and the news spread quickly. A couple of weeks later, Gavino announced that Barilla had called on Y&R to compete, alongside the major Italian agencies, for the Pasta Barilla account. From mid-September, Roberto and I got straight to work. Here's how it went: At 6 pm, we would leave B&B, race to Piazza Duse, and start digging into the Barilla dossier with the Y&R managers - data, research, opinions, competitors, history, sociologists, and psychologists. Then, we would lock ourselves in our adjoining offices and start brainstorming. We worked late into the night. It was tough, but it was wonderful. The next morning, we were back at B&B as usual. In the fall of 1984, three key ideas emerged from the 'little heads' of Andrea Concato and Roberto Fiamenghi: - The Pasta Barilla campaign: "Dove c'è Barilla, c'è casa" ("Where there's Barilla, there's home"). - The so-called "emotional" advertising. - Storytelling in advertising. The inspiration came from Sergio Mambelli, who had been the mind behind Mulino Bianco at Y&R for years. He said, "Imagine coming home in the evening to your family, only to discover that Barilla Pasta doesn't exist, and never has." We latched onto one crucial part of Sergio's advice: "Going home." That was the idea. The importance of home, family, the warm welcome, and pasta shared around the table. By October 1984, I had started shaping this idea. I discussed it with Roberto, who instantly agreed - it was already in his mind too. We had been circling it for days and just needed to make it concrete. Together, we began developing the concept and creating the first stories to film (this is when the "homecomings" were born: "Treno", "I Cadetti", "Il Marinaio", " Il nuovo nato" - archetypes that would breathe life into the saga). This "emotional" advertising was born from those days, stemming from the Barilla stories. It was foreshadowed in the Fiat Uno commercials we created when we brought Rick Levine on board to shoot with us. You can still see them on this site, in the TV section - there's even a "newborn" there too. We chose Rick Levine, Joe Pytka's partner in a Los Angeles production company, for his ability to tap into the emotional core of the audience with simple, authentic stories. I remember clearly one of his commercials for Budweiser Light, celebrating the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. It featured a torchbearer running through the cultivated fields of California, with the Coldwell brothers waking up at dawn to stand by the fence, clapping with shining eyes as he passed before heading back to the fields. A few intense, meaningful seconds. That's the kind of moment we wanted to capture. The label "emotional advertising" soon stuck, and marketing departments across Italy began asking their agencies for it. For decades, they would continue to request it from me, even though they didn't really understand its origins. That always amused me. And they were always stories. Because everyone loves stories - from children's fairy tales to profound novels for adults. Stories make you understood. Even Jesus of Nazareth never presented a principle without first telling a parable (a story) to illustrate it. Certainly, stories had appeared in advertising before us, but due to the tone, the universally relatable subject, the music, and Franco Ferri's voice, our stories became the archetype for both the professional world and the public. And that's when another label stuck to our work - the infamous "Storytelling." Generations of creatives and marketing departments have since thrown the term around. In early November 1984, after spending days and nights at home with my tapes and records, as I always did to select the music for my commercials, I gathered Roberto, Ugo Castellano, Marco Lombardi, Sergio Mambelli, and Gavino Sanna early in the morning at Y&R. I wanted them to hear a piece of music that, until then, had been heard by no more than ten people in Italy. I had long admired and respected the talent of Vangelis Papathanassiou, formerly of Aphrodite's Child. My lifelong friend James S. Segre - one of the two greatest collectors of Rolling Stones records and CDs in the world, and my guide into the realm of quality music - had introduced me to imported records from the UK. Back in previous agencies, starting in 1977, I had already used Vangelis for Martini & Rossi or recommended him to others (like Seterie Ratti and Necchi). I played two tracks from the soundtrack of Opera Sauvage, a documentary on animals by Frederick Rossif - perhaps three copies existed in Italy at the time. I played it from one of my cassettes, labeled in red and blue ink in my own handwriting. I still have it. I already knew which track we'd choose: "Hymne". My colleagues' goosebumps confirmed it. Gavino had never heard of Vangelis or Aphrodite's Child. His wife, Lella Fontana, later confided to me that on that very Saturday, Gavino rushed to Galleria Vittorio Emanuele to buy every Vangelis record available in Italy. Import records were completely foreign to him. The name Carù, alien. We acquired the rights to reproduce the musical score, and I called Oscar Prudente to make the first arrangements in the lengths necessary for the commercials. Vangelis became famous in Italy; his music became the theme of TV shows, it was taught in schools, Milva sang his work, and he went on to score for major films, winning Oscars and numerous awards. His music will endure forever. The Pasta Barilla campaign was created by Roberto Fiamenghi and me in all its TV and print versions from 1985 to mid-1988, during the campaign's peak effectiveness. The only exception was Barilla-Roma, which won a Golden Lion at the 1987 Cannes Festival. I had "invented" both the commercial and the opportunity for it, which I then shared with Gavino Sanna. Barilla was sponsoring AS Roma, and the team was leading the league until the last match of the season; they only needed a draw to remain on top and win the title. Barilla asked us to create a commercial to celebrate the occasion. Several proposals were ready in the creative department. Gavino asked me to review them. But when Roma lost and another team won the championship, Barilla informed us on Monday that the commercial, of course, would no longer be made. I was quite upset, as it had been a chance to portray Barilla not just as a pasta producer but as a brand that stood close to people's passions. So, I came up with the idea: when you win, everything is easy, and everyone congratulates you. But when you lose, that's when you need someone by your side, showing their support and love, because you will need even greater strength to overcome and rise again. I convinced Gavino in a minute. He had spent enough time in the US to appreciate the ethical value in that idea, and together we convinced Barilla to make a commercial that celebrated a team that had lost the championship. Something never seen before. After mid-1988, I left Young & Rubicam for another agency. In 1995, when I returned to Italy after an international assignment with General Motors, Guido Barilla visited me at my office on Via Dante. Pietro was no longer with us. Guido asked me to tell him exactly when I had left Y&R and then said something I would never forget: "It was from that moment that we noticed a decline in the agency's creative quality." He left me with the promise to call me for a project. That night, I went home as if flying over the rooftops of Milan. Shortly thereafter, the Barilla brothers - Guido, Paolo, and Luca - had a change of heart. They realized that the company, now huge and distributed worldwide, needed the support of an international manager, and they brought in Edwin Artz from Procter & Gamble USA as CEO. He had his own plans, his own connections, and his own consultants. At the Barilla presentation at the end of 1984, in front of Pietro and Guido Barilla and the entire company leadership, Ugo Castellano, Marco Lombardi, Gavino Sanna, Roberto Fiamenghi, and I were all present. Gavino insisted on presenting his campaign, which depicted Italian fashion icons as "al dente people" on TV, with plates of pasta framed from above for the print ads. Gavino's proposal was met with silent embarrassment. It was ignored. Nobody ever mentioned it again. To be honest, neither did he. Then, I stood up and presented the first TV stories that Roberto and I had written, playing Vangelis's music. The only one with any lingering doubt was Pietro Barilla (and he had every right). He said, "Mr. Concato, you're good at telling stories, you moved us, the music is beautiful, but we've often seen great stories turn into disappointing commercials." I remember perfectly that I replied (what else could I say?): "Mr. Barilla, you can trust in our production capabilities. We have a track record of commercials created by this team that can prove it to you. Whenever you want, you are welcome to review them with us or with anyone you like." It was a triumph. That was the campaign chosen, and Young & Rubicam won the pitch with it. The story of the claim "Dove c'è Barilla c'è casa" is well-known by now. During the campaign's study phase, Marco Lombardi had conceived a strategy he called "Barilla Land," which he shared with everyone. His intent was to paint Barilla as a grand fair of different pasta shapes, where everyone could find their favorite. I tried to sidestep this strategy, which risked leading us astray. We wanted to position Barilla in an unattainable empyrean, owning the domestic territory and the joy of returning home. I had long learned that running "multi-product" campaigns can hurt you. I had seen Gillette lose a fortune with campaigns that tried to combine all "shaving systems." These were the brilliant ideas of some CEO who thought they could save a lot of money. One campaign, many products. But they regularly failed. In fact, no one in the world is interested in buying a range of products; they only want one specific product, with a clear reason to buy it. But Marco Lombardi was the general director and had a reputation as a cultured scholar and fine strategist. In the end, the only traces of Marco's thinking that remained were the long pan shot in the film "Train," showing about thirty different packages of pasta in the kitchen of the traveler returning to his country house (who keeps that much pasta in a kitchen?), and the first claim I was pushed to write, which was horrendous: "Barilla, a world of ideas for all your desires." When we began testing the first creative products that contained the heart of our idea - linking Barilla to the family gathered around the dinner table, with the constant return home from afar, from estrangement to the domestic atmosphere - a woman interviewed said, "It's so true, where there's Barilla, there's home." I remember well that Castellano, Lombardi, and Gavino called me in to tell me they thought this was a better claim, fearing I would be offended. Instead, I shouted for joy! The right claim had been born. If you want to delve into all the details of these operations, you can read my 1988 announcement, "ORA BASTA" here in the PRINT section. It was a double-page spread published in the weekly Pubblico, a well-known advertising and marketing magazine. Following my announcement, Young & Rubicam accused me and my new agency of unfair competition before the arbitrators of Assap, the trade association of advertising agencies. The arbitrators investigated for months, interviewing everyone. Eventually, they acquitted me and the agency. I had told the truth. Gavino, consequently, had not. But the story doesn't end there. After everything that had happened, three years passed, and I was already elsewhere, doing other things, when Ugo Castellano and Gavino Sanna asked me to create a new campaign for Pasta Barilla - they weren't able to "get it" anymore. I asked for an embarrassing amount of money, and they gave it to me.