Its good to be on top.

Is the central message in AMC’s new, heavily hyped and well-worth the buzz drama “Mad Men” the most important line in every marketting ploy is: “By Writer/Producer Michael Weiner of The Sopranos” And Mad Men is all about advertising, and makes no qualms issues or petty feints about it.

Because in 1959 (or thereabouts. The general message seems to be leaving the prudish sensibilities of the 50’s, but before the outright social revolution of the 60’s.) We were on top. The Depression was our parents’ woe, The War was drifiting comfortably into the nation’s memory, and we had WON. It was a victory like we hadn’t seen since the birth of America, and the men on in the advertising industry were reaping the benefits of our macho, modern, swagger a good fifteen years later.

On top of the economy, on top our vices, (cigarettes, booze, and sex being the trifecta of choice) and mopst importantly, they were on top of whatever America wanted. It was up to the Men of Madison avenue to decide what America wanted.

At the height of the American Advertising Industry, Madison Avenue was the beating heart. Television, Radio, Magazines and Movies were all America had to concern itself with in the well-earned salad days of the 20th century, and someone had to send out the message to America, telling all the fellas and dames what they were supposed to buy. It’s no surprise then that the machismo, arrogant nature to these men is what feuled the industry.
And at the center of the story is Don Drapper, or it seems more fitting to drop the R and call him what he is: Dapper. Slick black hair, chizelled jaw, exactly what America was buying in the silver age of cinema. He is however, smart and comlex enoguh not to be overconfident. The opening scene is of Mr. Drapper jotting ideas down on a cocktail napkin on how to sell more Lucky Strikes. He asks advice of the silent, aging black waiter, who is then chided for being too “chatty”.

It’s not easy to keep one’s balance at the top, and Mr. Drapper is down-to-earth, cautious and wise enough not to get too confident and rock the boat. A lesson his piggish, smug, and about-to-be-married , and still chasing skirt 26-year old co-worker Pete could bear to learn from.

At the other end of the spectrum is Peggy, played by Elizabeth Moss. (Whom I’ll always remember fondly as President Jedd Bartlett’s youngest and most beloved daughter Zoey) She’s the new secretary at the Sterling Cooper Advertising Agency, assigned to Mr. Drapper. She’s shy, demure, but in no way naive, simply ready to work hard and achieve. Her new “friend” and supervisor Joan, a heady, fire-haired dame who wears her curves tight to her dress is ready to give her all the advice she can handle in one mouthful, including what types of gifts to give to the receptionists, and what parts of her figure she should “advertise” most. Joan, it seems, knows how to move up in the world, if you’re of the “weaker” sex.

If you’re already disgusted by the sexism, it gets better. The (male) gyneocologist who smokes in the examining room, and spends most of his time telling Peggy the virtues and vices of contraceptives without becoming “one of those types of girls.” Peggy’s so overwhelmed by the new normal, she simply nods and complies.

By the end of the first episode, Mr. Drapper rises to the occassion of holding on to his clients at Lucky Strike, in sight of Readers’ Digest’s ludicrous claim that smoking cigarettes is linked to cancer and without resorting to the psycho-babble suggested by a German psycho-analyst that humankind, deep down has a desire for danger and all things dangerous

While also just barely holding on to a troublesome, yet intriguing client: Troublesome partly because she’s Jew, trying to branch into the WASP market and troublesome but also intriguing because she’s a She.

Sure, Mad Men gives us what we know is bad for us. (Alcoholism, sexism, racism, anti-semitism, cigarettes, chauvanism, capitalism, and the list goes on. . .) but like any good advertiser, it knows the number one rule: Give the people what they want.

Tune in, you might learn something about how to sell a good show.

American Movie Classics, Thursdays at 10pm