“So,” says Walter Veith, “what have you got for me?”
Walter is the vice president of Bethlehem Steel, one of the country’s leading manufacturers.
“Well,” says Don Draper, “we tend to overlook the things we rely on most: water, oil, electricity,” he pauses, “steel.”
Don, the creative director of Sterling Cooper, is standing in a boardroom in Midtown Manhattan. It’s 1960. The room is filled with men in suits. A bar cart sits in the corner. Don is here to win Bethlehem’s business.
“I remember the last time you were here,” Don continues, turning to the window, “looking out at this magnificent city and saying, ‘It’s all steel.’”
Now comes the pitch.
Don turns back to the room, revealing three canvases on easels. “New York,” he says, flipping one canvas, “Brought to You by Bethlehem Steel.”
Walter shifts in his seat.
“Pittsburgh,” Don continues, turning another canvas. “Brought to You by Bethlehem Steel.” Then another. “Chicago. Detroit. St. Louis. Full-page ads in key markets—newspapers, trade journals.”
I walked these grounds as a kid when it was still a vital part of the US.
— Brian Roemmele (@BrianRoemmele) November 27, 2024
It’s all gone now, haunted by the ghosts of what we were and will be.
This is the mighty Bethlehem Steel left to rust.
This steel built America.and a good chance you get to be supported by it daily. pic.twitter.com/Kt5xgin6o1
Walter leans forward, studying the images. “They’re a little plain,” he says. “Reminds me of those WPA posters before the war.”
Don doesn’t miss a beat. “Walter, you’ve been in this game long enough,” he says. “We can scrap the artwork and start fresh in a second. But the idea—the sentiment—it’s so fundamental, you feel like you already know it. You just haven’t thought about it in a while.”
When you say something first, you own it.
This is the power of a preemptive claim. It links your brand to an idea, especially in a competitive market where no product has a clear advantage.
Copywriting legend Claude Hopkins used this approach in the 1920s when advertising Schlitz beer. After touring their facility and observing the brewing process, he crafted ads with headlines like “Every Bottle Sterilized” and “Bottled Purity.”
Was Schlitz the only brewery sterilizing its bottles? Of course not. Every beer company did it. But Schlitz was the first to say it, creating a strong association in the consumer’s mind while subtly raising doubts about the competition.
Likewise, was every building in New York City made exclusively with Bethlehem Steel? No. But by preemptively claiming it, the brand establishes itself as synonymous with the material that built America.
Walter leans back, considering the pitch. “Cities are made of steel,” he says.
Don meets his gaze. “Bethlehem Steel,” he says.