DoubleClick offered Google a way to pool the two databases and their networks of advertisers. But DoubleClick also brought something Google lacked: a dominant online position in display advertising (banner and video ads), which meshed nicely with YouTube’s video offerings and Google’s narrower text-based expertise. Tim Armstrong, Google’s president, advertising and commerce, North America, envisioned three advantages for Google: better measurement of all online advertising, from text ads on search results to display ads on YouTube; better targeting of ads, which pleases both consumers and advertisers; and finally, higher fees for these better targeted, better measured, ads. Google’s game plan, said Richard Holden, its product management director, is simple: “We’d like to create one-stop shopping for advertisers.”
With reason, the advertising bears translated “one-stop shopping” to only-stop shopping, provoking dread about market domination. Rosenblatt, a bald, cheerful man of forty-one with a bright smile that provides cover for the technologist within, rises and goes to the whiteboard in his office to draw what he envisions as the future of advertising. Between “buyer” and “seller” he elongates an “ad exchange,” a clearinghouse for all online inventory to be sold. There could be many of these, but Rosenblatt, who would become Google’s president, display advertising, makes clear he hopes the Google/DoubleClick exchange will be dominant. This new approach can be much more efficient, he thinks, likening it to how online trading siphoned business from brokerage houses. Imagine, he said, that “instead of just selling remnant advertising to the exchange, the seller said, ‘We’ll expose all of our inventory onto this ad exchange. Maybe we’ll carve out a small percent-maybe ten percent-of the really premium stuff and our sales force will sell that directly. But this other stuff”-he acknowledged that the distinction between remnant and premium ads can be arbitrary-“’I don’t know where the line goes. I don’t want to figure out where it goes. Instead, I want the ad network to bid.”‘
Why shouldn’t a media buying agency, such as Irwin Gotlieb’s GroupM, conclude that DoubleClick/Google might gobble his piece of the advertising pie by offering to charge, say, 2 percent rather than his 4 or 5 percent? And by promising better data about what ads worked? Irwin Gotlieb did see DoubleClick and its ad exchange as a potential disrupter. He was uncomfortable with the wealth of data that Google would now possess, and could one day refuse to share with advertisers. He was uncomfortable with Google’s dominant market share. He was wary of its deals with EchoStar satellite television and Clear Channel radio and some newspapers, allowing Google to serve as the media-buying middleman for their online ads. He was rightly concerned that Google could be trying to usurp his role.
If that was Google’s intention, Gotlieb did not believe they would succeed. He welcomed Google reaching into the long tail to match advertisers with smaller Web sites. But he did not think Google/DoubleClick could make inroads with brand advertisers, in part because these clients want to be serviced, to have relationships with media agencies they can consult. And he also expressed skepticism that Google would loom as large in the future as it now does. “If you and I were talking about this in 1998, we would have been talking about AOL,” he said. “Two years later we would have been talking about Ask Jeeves.”
IN THE ADVERTISING WORLD, if you say “Irwin,” insiders instantly know whom you mean, just as people in Hollywood know who Warren and Bar bra are without hearing their surnames. In four decades in the advertising business, Irwin Gotlieb has seen fads come and go, though he hasn’t changed his hairstyle (his bouffant, graying mane sits flat atop his head, like the deck of an aircraft carrier) or his attire (dark suits and ties). He is confident that with the largest worldwide market share of media buying-estimated to be 19 percent-GroupM is secure. He disputes the notion that there is a sharp definitional difference between new and old media. “As all media moves to digital delivery,” he said, “the distinction between media types is going to become less relevant, or perhaps irrelevant. Hypothetically, if I’m reading my newspaper on an electronic display and I see a photograph of a touchdown in the Super Bowl and I click on it and get to see a sixty-second video of that touchdown play, am I now reading a newspaper or watching television? Or does the distinction cease to be relevant?” And whether the consumer is leaning forward over a PC, or leaning back to watch TV, or a combination of the two with a mobile device, he believes each medium will be “addressable,” which means his agency will know a lot about that consumer, and each medium will allow the user to click a button for additional information or to make purchases.
Irwin Gotlieb approaches life with the air of a knowing skeptic, one who is conversant in nine languages, including Japanese, Russian, Polish, and Hebrew, and has lived all over the world. He believes Google, like most businesses he has observed in his sixty-one years, is a great company that does one thing brilliantly, but “will probably be leapfrogged by something that two Ph.D.’s in China are working on.”
Irwin Gotlieb knows China, and much of the rest of the world. He was born in Shanghai in 1949 to Jacob Gotlieb and Genya Diatlovitzky, who were second cousins and Belarusian émigrés; when he was a year old, the family left for the newly forming Israel. His father, Irwin said, bribed an official to allow them to exit with valuables, including small antiques and precious metals. Because Jews could not pass through the Suez Canal, the refugee boat took six months to arrive. A year later his father flew alone to Japan -Irwin does not know why-and several weeks later the family flew to join him. In Japan, his father suddenly had a new career as an exporter of pearls and an importer of diamonds. Irwin knew his father wasn’t a trained jeweler, and he knew Asian currencies “were not worth the paper they were printed on,” but he did not know how his father came to that business, or who funded it.
Irwin lived in Japan until he was fifteen and was a precocious student. His parents encouraged him to attend college in the United States and he was accepted by New York University, arriving alone at fifteen with a stipend of cash from his parents. He rented an apartment, learned to speak English, and served as his father’s U.S. representative, working with Japanese and Chinese diamond dealers. In keeping with the many secrets held by the Gotlieb family, he never told his parents that he dropped out of college ten days after entering. “They were teaching me stuff I already knew,” he said.
He met Elizabeth Billick, a paralegal, in 1968, when he was nineteen. They eloped the following year, fearful that his father, who at the time was not speaking to Irwin, might try to block their marriage. Irwin displayed the stealth of his father. “My mom and dad went to their graves,” he said, “not knowing that I didn’t go to school and that I eloped.”
He had a friend in advertising and it sounded like “a fun business,” so Irwin, at age twenty, sent a resume to various agencies. Over the next five years he worked for two of them, amassing a quiverful of skills: cash and barter syndication, spot buying, research, planning, network TV negotiations. He was recruited by Benton amp; Bowles in 1977 to run their national broadcast group; over the next twenty-two years he helped build their overseas business and also supervised the production of prime-time shows and made-for-TV movies. Throughout, he dabbled in computer software, creating the first application to measure the audience that ads attracted, and building software to manage ad inventory. “I wrote my first full-blown software system in 1973,” he said. In 1979, he built “the first Monster system-eventually two million lines of code,” he said, which became the standard yield management software that determined prices, modeled the national marketplace, and allocated ads. His last job at Benton amp; Bowles was CEO of MediaVest, their media buying and planning agency. In 1999, Sir Martin Sorrell, the CEO of the WPP Group, who was knighted in 2000, recruited him to become global chairman and CEO of Mindshare, a MediaVest competitor. Sorrell acquired other media-buying and planning agencies, and in 2003 Gotlieb was elevated to run them all under the rubric of GroupM. Today, 73 percent of his company’s revenues come from outside North America.