Ad Man on the Run

      The guy's in the office at 4 a.m. several times a week, kicking around the "what if's" for the coming work day.
      Tom Letizia's been doing it for a little more than 25 years, an ad man cum radio disc jockey who has a passion for communications -- but little else.
      There are his wife and kids. There's his baseball autograph collection, and golf. There's always golf. But the owner of the Letizia Ad Team is consumed by work.
      "I'm not the kind of father who goes out to soccer, baseball, but I think my kids understand that," he said. "They're also driven."
      Letizia grew up in Southern California and attributes his work ethic to his foundry-worker dad and waitress mom. At 18, he attended a two-year program for disc jockey wannabes. He wanted in to the world of spinning platters and smooth-talking radio hosts, and had little use for college.
      After a couple of on-air jobs in Anchorage, Alaska, and Las Vegas, Letizia decided it was time to make a move.
      "When I was 21, 22, the money drove me," he said.
      So, he opened a public relations-advertising firm.
      Today, his clients include furniture retailers, auto dealers and the occasional casino operator. The goal is simple: increase client sales.
      "You have to know more about that business than anyone," he said. "You've got to position them."
      His credo's also simple.
      "I will not do anything that's wrong to deceive the public, but I will take advantage of the disclaimers," he said.
      One of his most memorable clients was Stratosphere Tower founder Bob Stupak. The colorful Las Vegas gaming entrepreneur is legendary for his entrepreneurial hustle, the slick move.
      About a decade ago, Stupak owed Letizia $3,000 for some ad work. In classic Stupakian fashion, the self-billed "Polish Maverick" offered to play a couple of hands of poker for the bill.
      "You win, I'll owe you $6,000," Stupak said.
      "I win, I owe you nothing," he said.
      For two hours, the ad man played the world-class poker champ. He was up; he was down. But in the end, Letizia prevailed in seven-card stud, and was paid the six grand.
      "I learned a lot from the guy," Letizia said. "He's the kind of guy who would step up to the line, and some would say, occasionally crossed it.
      "I will not do anything that's wrong to deceive the public," Letizia said, "but I will take advantage of the disclaimers ... the fine print."
      It's the sort of tiny wording that appears at the bottom of car dealer ads or is relayed by a fast-talking, on-air hawker.
      In a sense, Letizia's driven by an entrepreneur's fear of failure. The measure of his business is the success of his clients, not the annual awards shows frequented by advertising executives or the slickness of his TV, radio or newspaper ads.
      His wife, Marla Renee, a former Las Vegas TV weather-caster, knows this fear all too well.
      Days before a Letizia-promoted event, the ad man experiences a ritualized sense of worry. Can't sleep, can't eat, won't focus on much else.
      "I have a fear of losing every client every day," he said.
      But once the event begins, Letizia telephones his wife with the manic high of a salesman who just closed a deal.
      "There's loads of people here," he'll say. "Look at this. It's great. This is what it's all about. It's great."