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Madison Avenue Advertising Men: Peggy
AMC recently launched a new series, Mad Men focusing on a Madison Avenue advertising agency, beginning in April 1960. The series demonstrates that things that seem to be, seldom are. The satirical stories herein are set in an alternate universe where Dick Nixon eventually wins the election of 1960. They reveal that which I would like to see occurring in Mad Men. But I doubt that AMCTV will follow up on these suggestions.
A Bridge and Tunnel Girl Does A Cross-Town Commute As Peggy boarded the downward bound elevator from the Cooper-Sterling Agency offices she held her two hand tightly together gripping her purse so that their shaking would not be apparent to the other occupants of the elevator. But that didn’t entirely work because her right leg started to shake as she clenched her buttocks tightly together. Now she became conscious that clenching her butt was thrusting her pelvis forward, she blushed. She was the only woman in the elevator and she felt that all the men in their grey suits were looking at her as if she was naked, examining directly her breasts beneath their concealing layers of blouse, slip and sturdy bra. However the only thing that the men took note of was her rhythmically moving leg and one, a seemingly nice man from another firm remarked, “Oh, I see that you’re into the latest hit”. Peggy’s mind raced at the suggestion of “hit” and she blushed before realizing that he wasn’t referring to a beating but to the popular Top 40 tunes. She nodded to him but remained silent as her heart raced in panic. Would this elevator ride never end. But then, on the other hand, every second that ticked on brought her another second closer to her Friday evening appointment with Joan Halloway, her office manager. One week at her new job, her first job after secretarial school, and she was quaking. And not with joy but with dread anticipation.
At last the doors of the elevator opened and Peggy walked out into the lobby of the Meisian glass tower box housing the ad agency where she worked, or hoped to continue working, and prayed to continue working. Although it was a bright early summer’s day in midtown Manhattan, she was shivering as she walked up Madison Ave. toward the street where she would catch the cross-town bus that would take her to the West Side address that Joan had given her. “Be there by 6:00 and we will take things the next step” were the instructions given her. “If you’re not there I will take it as an indication that you are no longer interested in this job” was the verbally stated conclusion. Each click of her heels as they struck the sidewalk seemed to match a thump of her terrorized heart and she mulled things over. She had cut her ties with home quite thoroughly. All of her money had gone to secretarial school. If she left her first job it would be without references. This was early in the summer of 1960. Although the economy was picking up after the recession of 1957-8, it was a hard time for secretaries. All too many post-war brides, their children now well into elementary school, were seeking to return to the work force. This was not the time for a penniless girl to be looking for another job. She knew what she had to do.
A cross-town bus arrived, she dropped her token into the fare box and grabbed the first available seat as the bus lurched west. As Peggy smoothed her somewhat voluminous skirt she remembered Joan’s caustic comment on its mid-calf length. “1958 is long gone”. Joan had made a similar comment when observing Peggy’s light brown bangs and ponytail. Yes, Joan was a vixen but that was the way with this world. But Peggy loved her boss, Don Draper with his well cut suits, gentlemanly manners, rugged Korean war-hero handsomeness and, of course, his petite beautiful wife Betty. It was worth an extra five bucks a week to be secretary to Mr. Draper and she could certainly use it. Even living on a rather crummy block of the Lower East Side, and with sharing her tiny apartment with a roommate, it was tight to make ends meet. As the bus pulled up to the appropriate avenue, Peggy got off and looked around to see what building corresponded to the address Joan had given her at the end of their evaluation interview. At times nothing seemed right, everything always seemed to be shifting around. Like watching a horror movie where in one scene Igor’s hump was on the right and in the next scene the hunchback’s hump was in his left shoulder. Her shiver just got worse.
Peggy was impressed. Joan had directed her to a 12 story apartment on a nice part of Eleventh Ave but then there was a rumor that Joan got just over a hundred dollars a week, well over five thousand a year. You could bet that she didn’t have to share a one bedroom apartment with a roommate. As the wind blew in from the Hudson River Peggy felt a spring chill coming out of New Jersey. She hoped that this wouldn’t take too long. She hadn’t brought a sweater and after dark her nervous shaking would only make a chill shiver all the worse. She dreaded what was to come, not entirely sure what would happen. Mr. Draper had indicated that her first week’s performance, although not discouraging, needed significant improvement but that “Miss Halloway will of course show you the ropes and whip you into shape”. Peggy entered the lobby of the building, constructed well before the war, but none-the-less impeccably maintained. She noted a doorman, not bad for the West Side, although being born and raised in the outer boroughs, Manhattan still remained, by and large, a mystery to her. Peggy noted the location of Miss Hallowoy’s apartment, the 11th floor, and approached the elevator. An elderly Negro operated the elevator and Peggy ignored him during the slow ride up. Her thoughts centered again around the strange conversation she had had with Joan earlier that day, “A need for discipline, have you ever had discipline in your life?, you need to be motivated to focus on your appearance and what it is you should really be doing”. What the hell was that all about?
An Interview with Joan Exiting the elevator Peggy found Joan’s apartment just across the hallway. She had hardly had a chance to turn the door chime when the door opened. “Come in Miss Olson” stated the red headed Joan. Peggy’s hostess was wearing a long dark blue housedress with buttons down the front and a peter pan collar buttoned all the way to the top. This was about the last thing that Peggy anticipated given Miss Hollowoy’s usual attire in the office – low cut sack dresses with hemlines at the knee, and her constant upbraiding of Peggy for her dowdy skirt and blouse combinations. And Joan’s bustline was radically different from the hard cones that jutted out at the world of the office. Her breasts still pressed against the fabric of the dress but were more rounded and gave an impression of softness. And Peggy swore that she could almost see nipple marks though the thin fabric. Joan’s hair was undone and cascaded down to her shoulders in a soft wave and for the first time Peggy noticed that her eyes were actually blue-green. “Well Miss Olson, I presume that you are here to discuss your chastisement” continued Joan as she closed the door behind her. Peggy could only gape and make a quiet “Ah, Ah, Ah” noise. Joan continued “We will discuss these matters over supper. I see you have no wrap. You are likely to be quite cold going home later this evening. We will have to see to this. Ordinarily, you would get only a hour of my time on a Friday night or Saturday morning, there being so may girls in the office for me to manage, but since this is your first time you will have my whole evening. You new girls need careful breaking in. And there is so much turn over what with the Sterling Cooper’s policy of employing women only prior to their marriage.”
Most of this went right past Peggy and she looked around the beautiful apartment. White walls had real art work hanging on them. The chairs and the sofa matched and the end tables and lamps went beautifully with the major furniture. She thought to herself, “I’ll bet that the sofa is a real sofa and not just a Castro convertible bed”. As she followed Joan she noticed that there was a separate dinning room with a view of the river and New Jersey beyond. And then they walked into the biggest kitchen that she had ever seen in an apartment, it was even bigger than the kitchens in some homes she had been in.
Cooking on the stove was a pot roast with an aroma that made Peggy’s stomach rumble. The fashions of the day (or, at least of 1958, when Joan considered Peggy’s tastes to have been arrested) called for a girl’s waist to be narrow. Peggy managed to attain that ideal only by usually forgoing lunch and using a girdle with tight “tummy control”. Besides, going without lunch saved money and that was plenty tight enough. The savory dish cooking tormented Peggy and distracted her from what Joan was saying. Therefore Joan removed a bottle of white burgundy from the refrigerator and motioned Peggy to follow her into the living room where a pair of glasses awaited them on the coffee table. Joan removed the cork with a large wooden handled corkscrew, poured the wine, cleared her throat and began. “Peggy, your presence here right now indicated that you are willing, at least initially, to follow our rules at the Cooper-Sterling Advertising Agency, is this true?” Peggy nodded her head. Joan looked deep into Peggy’s eyes and continued. “Mr. Draper, the executive who you serve, has concluded that you are naïve and careless but he sees hope for your continued service with proper training. I, of course agree with him and he has instructed me as to the broad outlines of your training. Before we proceed any further I need to ask you a few background questions.” At this point Joan took a sip of her white wine and sat back on the sofa, looking up at an abstract painting on the catty-corner wall. “I need to evaluate your disciplinary background and your willingness to undergo chastisement as part of your service training.” Upon hearing this, Peggy almost audibly gulped. She had certain fears and suspicions that had caused her anxiety on her way over. They were now confirmed. About the maximal response that Peggy could muster was a barely perceptible “OK”. Joan slightly raised her voice, “What did you say?” “OK” more clearly said Peggy. Joan replied, “Would not ‘Yes Madam’ be more appropriate”. Peggy now clearly said “Yes Madam”, she knew she was sliding down a path she was not sure she wanted to take.
“Well, before we begin supper let us clarify and seal these matters” said Joan. She fired a series of questions, rapid-fire at Peggy.
“As a child were you ever spanked”.
On the one hand, the question was wildly inappropriate. Peggy suspected where this was going, she knew that she was trapped and that she had no choice. She mumbled out, “Yes, my mother would. My father died when I was a year old”.
Joan questioned further, “Were you ever spanked on the bare behind?” Peggy was now sure she knew where these questions were likely to go and to what they would inevitably lead.
“Yes”
“At school was corporal punishment ever administered”
Peggy’s heart was racing and her hands were shaking.
“Yes”
“Have you ever received chastisement on a place other than your bottom?”
“Yes”
“Are you willing to receive corporal punishment as part of your training and management”
Peggy stared off into space for a long time before replying with a lump in her throat.
“Yes”
“Alright” said Joan, “that part is over and the border is crossed”. Drink your wine and we can continue.” The office manager looked at the new secretary in a manner that expected a reply.
“Yes Madam”
After Peggy downed her glass of chilled white Burgundy, Joan motioned to the closest in the apartment’s foyer and told her “Remove your blouse and skirt and hang them in the closest. Take off your girdle and panties and place them on the shelf. You will find a pair of garters there. You can use them to hold your stockings up”.
Peggy Reacts She should have been outraged but instead felt singularly powerless. Ordinarily, she would have responded by spitting in Joan’s face, calling her a pervert, storming out of the apartment, and maybe even calling the police. But it was all too slickly done. The planning probably began when she was still in secretarial school and Joan had talked with her instructors, evaluating who were the candidates for such a plum job. She knew that they had interviewed three or four candidates, before settling on her. Everything in this first week was set up to lead to this moment. And now her will was eroded, she had no choice but to submit. God knew where this was going to lead but Peggy couldn’t figure out any alternative.
She walked over to the closet by the entry door, unbuttoning and then unzipping her full, long skirt as she did. Joan was obviously some sort of a pervert, in league with all the executives at Sterling-Cooper, who were also undoubtedly some sorts of perverts, and she was stuck. Trying to stall for time and being coy and modest was probably not going to work. Peggy suspected that Joan had been through this sort of thing before, probably many times and would enjoy watching the novice secretary try and disrobe as slowly as possible. Well she would go about it in as business-like a fashion as possible as though this sort of thing went on all the time. She stepped out of her skirt and passed it through a coat hanger folding it as neatly as possible. Then she untied the bow she had around her neck and hung it around the crook of the hanger. She unbuttoned the cuffs of her blouse before she started unbuttoning the front, starting at the bottom and continuing until the collar button was undone. Then with a professional shrug she took off the blouse, hung it on the hanger and hung the hanger in the closet. She wondered how many girls had undergone the same ritual. Joan’s earlier comment about others getting only an hour on a Friday night or Saturday morning now began to make more sense. Clad in her long nylon slip that reached to just below her knees, Peggy contemplated how to remove her girdle with a minimum of fuss and commotion. There is no way I am going to give Joan any more of a show than I have to, she thought. Facing the open closet Peggy raised the hem of her skirt to mid thigh and folded the lower hem of her girdle up, exposing the metal and rubber slip fasteners holding up her nylons. She deftly unfastened the snaps from the tops of her nylons, grasped the hem of the girdle, exhaled and with a mighty tug pulled the girdle down to the level of her ankles. She then stepped out of the steel-boned rubber and fabric appliance as daintily as could be done. “Bravo, well done my dear girl” commented Joan. Peggy loathed her, frustrated at giving her the pleasure of the least bit of show. Peggy placed the girdle up on the shelve, her fingers searching for the circular garters that she could not see. Eventually finding them, she once again raised up the hem of her slip, pulled up and straightened the stockings somewhat disordered by the lowering of the girdle, and drew the garters up first one leg and then the other. She rolled the ends of her nylons down over the garters to an inch or two above her knees and then with her slip still hiked up, grasped the elastics at the leg holes of the lower portions of her white cotton panties and pulled them down. After she folded her panties and placed them on top of her girdle, she closed the door of the closet and turned to face Joan to see what the manager now had in store. It was only at this point that looking across the room and beyond Joan that she noticed hanging on the opposite wall from a hook is a leather strop. Somehow the very public display of a strap for beating people did not surprise her. Standing there in a full slip and bra, nylon stockings and shoes with nothing covering her bottom but thin clinging fabric, Peggy had a pretty good idea of where this Friday evening was headed. At the same time one part of her really couldn’t believe the reality of what was going on. That part of her mind was reeling with the surreal scene she was playing out.
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