I knew Bob 46 years ago.



I knew Bob 46 years ago. I was 24. He was 37.

We both worked at Doyle Dane Bernbach in New York City. The most exciting, creative agency in
America.

I worked for him and he was a great boss because he had the ability to look at your work and make
you think his ideas on how to make it better were actually ideas you thought of yourself.

I mention this because anyone that knew him now knew that the converse was never true.
You really couldn’t tell him a thing

I got him to quit smoking but he never embraced the idea as if it were his own.

When I knew him years ago he was fastidious about his appearance. He had his suits fitted by
Mr. Alongi at Saks Fifth Avenue. He even wore Gucci loafers.

So when we reconnected on Useppa I was surprised to see him holding his pants up with his left
hand.

“You’re too classy a guy to be walking around with your pants practically falling down.”
I suggested some colorful interesting suspenders.

He wouldn’t consider suspenders and said, “ I don’t want to look like Charlie Chapin.”
I knew he had some problems with Chapin’s politics and views on race in America. Maybe he
thought if he wore suspenders people would think he was Republican. HA

When we were alone I told him I’d never been out with anyone as fat as he was. He laughed and
hugged me and told me he used to be even fatter.

The image I had of had of him from years ago was the one that was burned into my head and heart.
He was still my dear boy. I had even called him Bobby.

There was an episode on Mad Men, a show he hated, where Don Draper, the lead character, dismisses
another copywriter saying, “ He’s no Bob Levenson.”

And that was true. There was only one Bob Levenson. And he was it.

What my dad used to say about me was also true of Bob. He may have been a pain but he was never
a bore.

I thought we had more time. If anyone had told me a couple of years ago that I would end up here on
Useppa with Bob in a box, I wouldn’t have believed it.

But life is like that. Nothing turns out like you think it will.

He often asked me, “ Do you know how much I love you?”
I had answered I wasn’t sure.

But one thing is really for sure and that is how much you all loved him.

Jane Warshaw
DDB Copywriter