20 Questions: John Peterman

He shares his name and his job as head of a catalog company with the Mr. Peterman character on "Seinfeld." While the fictional Peterman employs Elaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus), the real John Peterman confronts a marketing challenge: how to convert all those "Seinfeld" viewers into customers. "About 70 percent of the people who know the name from the show don't know we're a real company," says Peterman. "We did research on it."

If "Seinfeld's" Peterman comes off as slightly eccentric, that may be because the show's writers find inspiration in the real Peterman's catalogs. With their watercolor illustrations and bits of fiction (ostensibly written by Peterman himself) woven around the merchandise, the catalogs have acquired status in the direct mail trade as "romance books." Think ocean liner travel, Paris between the World Wars and India during the British raj.

John Peterman is an example to all those who have dreamed about starting their own businesses or who didn't make the major leagues. After stints as a professional in-fielder and sales manager for packaged goods companies, he embarked on a career as a business consultant. On a trip to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, he spotted a cowboy duster in a dry goods store. The ankle-length coat, Peterman explains, provides total weather protection for guys on horses. Ever on the lookout for an entrepreneurial opportunity, Peterman, along with his New York adman partner, tested a couple of small magazine ads to see if the duster would sell. They moved 2500. A year later, in 1988, they brought out their premiere catalog, which offered the duster and three other items. In 1996 the J. Peterman Co. grossed an estimated $70 million. Peterman admits "the business is a little more organized" than in the early days.

Contributing Editor Warren Kalbacker dialed the J. Peterman Co. in Lexington, Kentucky and specified one John Peterman. His order was filled a couple of weeks later. Kalbacker reports: "Peterman and I met amid evidence of his travels: well-worn caps, coats and boots and a large collection of incredibly battered luggage. His office resembles a British country house but happens to be in a warehouse in an industrial park." Peterman comes by his brand of travel honestly, though. Says Kalbacker, "He urged me to avoid the interstate on my way back and penned a map of local country roads. He insisted I drive them right away because they're slated for widening."

1.

Playboy: The duster is J. Peterman's signature. It even decorates the signs along the road to the company's headquarters. Did you begin wearing it as a reaction to the suit you wore as a business consultant?

Peterman: The basic motivation was rebellion. Being different has always been important to me. When I was in the Marine Corps, I never wanted to salute the officers. I was always trying to see whether they were looking. Could I get by them? "Oh! Didn't see you, sir. Sorry, sir." I got into a lot of trouble. When I was in the consulting business, I went to a store in Jackson Hole, Wyoming and bought the duster. I wore it back East and people would stop me and say, "God, where did you get that?" One time in Atlanta I was running from one plane to another and some guy who'd had a few drinks was holding on to the end of my duster. When I went to New York to visit my partner, he said, "Peterman, I like you better because you're wearing that." And I told him, "I've noticed that a lot of people like me better because I'm wearing this." And he said, "Let's run a couple of ads and see if we can sell some of them." I still wear the duster. I wore it yesterday and the day before that.

2.

Playboy: To quote Seinfeld's Mr. Peterman: "My stories sell these clothes." So you cleverly staked out your catalog territory with copy that reads like excerpts from novels, diaries and bar conversations?

Peterman: It wasn't the case of selecting a merchandising style. I bought the duster because it's different. It represents cowboys, and cowboys are big figures to me. I like cowboys. There is a lot of authenticity surrounding the duster because of where I found it. That's the kind of atmosphere we create with the stories that accompany the items. Polo can get emotion out of a photograph. But I didn't have $125,000 to put into a shoot. We did it the only way we knew. Most of the things we did weren't thought out.

3.

Playboy: Peterman describes merchandise with references to F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway and Jane Austen, among others. Is there a future in the catalog field for English majors?

Peterman: You don't have to be an English major. I began reading those books in my late 20s, early 30s. I read Ian Fleming when I was in college. A woman called me with an idea to market the J. Peterman catalog to high school English teachers for use as part of the curriculum. And I told her that while I and some other people consider our copy to be literature, I was afraid that we would create controversy should we try to market it to English students. Talk about brainwashing. Teaching Peterman!

4.

Playboy: Should she ever lose her $600,000-per-episode Seinfeld job, could Julia Louis-Dreyfus land a position at the J. Peterman Co.?

Peterman: She should submit examples of her writing. Then we'd have to decide whether she has sufficient talent to pursue it before we let her go on a journey to discover items. I know lots of interesting people who can't write a lick. Fitzgerald and Hemingway were good writers when they were young, and they got better. But even Hemingway and Fitzgerald sprinkled their fiction with facts and personal anecdotes. If you're really young you haven't had enough personal experiences to be very interesting..... I'm getting into an area I don't know anything about.

5.

Playboy: When you met Donald O'Hurley, the actor who plays Mr. Peterman on Seinfeld, did you offer him advice on how to interpret you?

Peterman: He didn't ask for advice and I wouldn't give him any. And if he were to do something more like me it would probably ruin the character. I send him clothes every now and then. I told him I can't have him walking around shabbily dressed. Donald O'Hurley is a nice guy, but the character is an asshole. I have said that, but I've been misquoted. I never meant the actor was an asshole. I said his characterization of me makes me look like an asshole. But Seinfeld is good for the business in terms of name recognition. So, unlike the Soup Nazi, I'm not about to call the Seinfeld show and ask them to cease and desist. But when the Kramer's Reality Tour PR guy called and asked me to participate, I said no.

6.

Playboy: You insist you don't discover Peterman items in fashion designers' showrooms. Tell us how creative you can be in finding the merchandise.

Peterman: The second item in the catalog--after the duster--was the J. Peterman shirt. I had always wanted big blousy sleeves on a shirt. The idea came from Errol Flynn. I was secure enough that it didn't make me feel prissy. So I started looking for a pirate shirt. I was going through a military history magazine and came across a shirt worn in the Jeffersonian era. And I said. "That's it!" Some people get it and some don't. A women's buyer. Paula, brought in a tennis dress from a vintage clothing show. We said we loved it but that it wouldn't sell. But she bitched and moaned and convinced us it was a Peterman item. So we put it in the catalog and it did extremely well. Here are woolen fisherman pants from the Aran Islands off Ireland. Great suspenders, high in the back. I would wear these, but I don't think I could sell many in the catalog.

7.

Playboy: You're a veteran of Triple A baseball. Relate the lessons of the professional game.

Peterman: The lessons get more finetuned the further you go. When you're a professional and you play every day you have to be resilient. You can get beaten 10--0 today and win 10--0 tomorrow. Not letting failure bother me is a lesson I got from baseball. When you play infrequently, every game is a big deal. You see high school kids crying because they lost a game. That annoys me. I wanted my kids to care whether they won or lost, but I never wanted to see them cry because they lost a game. I was always on baseball teams that won more then they lost. I was an infielder. I had a tryout with the Yankees and I was signed by the Pirates and played in the rookie league and did very well. I went to Triple A the following year with the Columbus Jets. I had a good first year. Hit well and stole a lot of bases. But when they sent me my contract. I didn't sign it. This was before the era of agents. I wrote them a letter saying I wanted $50 for every point I hit over .300, and $50 for every base I stole over 30. And they told me, "You had a good year last year. Get your ass to spring training or you won't have a job." Boom, I signed my contract and went to spring training.

8.

Playboy: You traveled to Cuba. Did you enjoy an audience with the maximum baseball fan?

Peterman: Fidel was busy the day I was there, so we didn't get together. And it was after baseball season, so I didn't go to a game. The only good thing I can say about socialists is that they're great preservers of things. Havana hasn't changed one iota since 1959. They never ripped anything down nor built anything up because they never had a lot of money. Some may call that backwardness, but I call it beauty. With one paint job you could have the most beautiful city in the world. There were some old cars, but the 1955 Chevys have all been sold to Germany or Japan. Good cigars and wonderful rum. Cohiba cigars. Fidel's brand. Good enough for Fidel and good enough for me. Here's where you go to buy your rum and your cigars--La Casa del Ron, Havana. It's a state-run store with a big cigar room and bottles of all the rums made in Cuba. There's a bar, and they have these little glasses. So go in there and sample six or seven rums, OK? Take 20 bottles of those and ten of those. Of course, you can't bring them back here. Peterman would never import anything illegally. Absolutely not. Right.

9.

Playboy: Name three items every man should own.

Peterman: Every guy should have a winter coat with a cape on it. Very few do. It's distinguished, it's utilitarian and you don't necessarily look like you're in the kaiser's army. You look like Sherlock Holmes--or a count or a duke. That green loden one over there is my winter coat. A man should also have a pair of boots. Very important. I have a great affinity for cowboy boots. The third item would be a brush and shaving cream. I use them. None of this squeeze-top stuff. I won't go so far as to suggest shaving with a straight razor, but I've always wanted to do it.

10.

Playboy: Early on, you managed to finance the J. Peterman Co. with credit card cash advances. Do you recommend this method of raising capital to young entrepreneurs?

Peterman: I wouldn't recommend it, but I wouldn't not recommend it. It's just lately, after I passed 50, that I've stopped maxing out my credit cards. It's not a habit one leaves easily. It's a good way to get into trouble. But there's a difference when you're an entrepreneur. You do what you have to if you need money to get the thing going. You get the money any way you can, legally. One of my fantasies is never to use another credit card. Pay cash for everything. But money clips have never held a lot of intrigue for me. I carry my money in a wad in my pocket. Folded over, sometimes with a paper clip.

11.

Playboy: Does John Peterman ever ask for directions?

Peterman: I like finding my own way. Not from a macho egotistic standpoint, but from a love of discovery. I find lots of stuff when I'm lost. Paris and London are wonderful places to be lost. Bolivia is a good place to be lost. La Paz is a small town, so you can't really be lost, but you can't know where you're going. I found a real witches' market there. There were herbs and powders and potions and llama fetuses--anything you need for your basic witch kettle. I missed putting that stuff in the catalog.

12.

Playboy: Describe the joys of traveling alone.

Peterman: You can go left instead of right without consulting anyone. I spent a weekend by myself in an 18th century Irish manor house and wound up in a wonderful road race. I was headed back toward Dublin on Sunday afternoon, and I was coming up on Gorey, which is about 50 miles away. I had rented an Opel. And there were a Mercedes and a Volvo on the road with me. First, the Mercedes slowed down, so I passed it, then the Volvo passed the Mercedes and me, and then the Mercedes passed me, and the next thing you know, we're doing 80 or 90 between little towns. The Volvo drops out. It was really wonderful--this Mercedes and me. We're downshifting around the corners, passing whenever we can, passing wherever we shouldn't--on the curves. And then you have to slow down to 15 miles an hour to go through towns. As soon as you hit the outskirts you're downshifting again to get back up to speed to try to get ahead of the other guy. We get all the way to Dublin and I pull up alongside the Mercedes. And there's this beautiful woman driving. She smiled, then she went right and I went left. I guess it was a tie. That wasn't important. The race was important.

(concluded on page 169)John Peterman(continued from page 114)

13.

Playboy: You merchandise the accoutrements of the British Empire. Do you have any Royalist leanings yourself?

Peterman: I have no political leanings that I wish to discuss. The mother country has delivered what we really like: knickers, though we can't sell knickers or socks in the U.S.; tweedy Norfolk jackets; tattersall shirts for men. English country life has always intrigued me. The seafaring aspect of the British Empire provides a treasure of things like navigation instruments. In their great wisdom some members of Parliament decided that the silverware they used in the House of Commons commissary--the stuff that Churchill and Chamberlain and Attlee ate with--was no longer useful. So we bought a good chunk of it and put it in our catalog, and it sold very well. And some members of Parliament weren't very happy about it. I think ours is one of the few catalogs that have been debated in the House of Commons. There's just an attitude. The English have been so stuffy and traditional for so long, and it's suddenly wonderful to have a tradition. People make fun of the tradition or say it's terrible. Everyone knocks it but they want to buy into it.

14.

Playboy: Has any fashion trend of the past 50 years appealed to you?

Peterman: I had sideburns at one time. Men dressed better in the Twenties and Thirties than they do now. Since then, we've gone from the tailored to the more casual look. Soon the trend will probably reverse. I have one dark suit in my closet, in case I have to go to a funeral. But I'm beginning to get the urge to pop over to London and have a few suits made. I might want to fool around in a suit.

15.

Playboy: The Wall Street Journal reported a while back that some companies have instituted dress codes for casual Fridays. The question: Is casual Friday an opportunity for self-expression or a cruel hoax perpetrated by management to give employees an illusion of freedom?

Peterman: Cruel hoax. What we were planning in this company was dress-up Friday--skirts for the ladies and jackets and ties for the men. We decided it was a fun idea but not something we really wanted to do.

16.

Playboy: Acquaint us a little better with Lola, Amelia, Cecilia, Glenda, Jessica--and tell us what your spouse, Audrey, thinks of them.

Peterman: Those are girls I went to grade school with [laughs]. That's not really true. Audrey and I have a very good relationship, and she deals with them the same way any writer's wife would deal with the characters he writes. The catalog is literature. I met Lola in Paris. She's a waitress in a bistro on the Left Bank, near Deux Magots. There is a church, then around the corner and down the street is Lola. Amelia is Amelia Earhart. I like her. I didn't know her and I haven't gone to look for her. But she was made of the right stuff. Glenda was a very pretty girl I grew up with. She was several years younger than I, and of course I didn't appreciate her until I was older. Jessica is the name of a good friend's wife. She was a ballerina in her early years. We'll talk about Cecilia later.

17.

Playboy: The term ten-denier describes a very sheer stocking. Should a gentleman educate himself about the finer points of women's hosiery?

Peterman: You should stop to appreciate beautiful legs in ten-denier stockings. They're exquisite. European men appreciate the beauty of women more than American men do. American men are so busy, so macho. They don't appreciate the finer things in life.

18.

Playboy: Can we look forward to a larger selection of lingerie from J. Peterman? If so, would you care to share the joy of discovering it?

Peterman: There will be more lingerie. Found it in Europe. . . . You're pressing me for my sources! There's a wonderful flea market in Paris, past the Bastille. And there are little vintage shops all over Paris. Out of one of those would come things from the Twenties and Thirties. We've done chemises. We've done full slips. Two-piece sets. We've done silk pajamas, which look terrific without the top or without the bottom.

19.

Playboy: You've pitched khakis with one line that talks about visiting Hong Kong, Sumatra, Moscow and Nutley, New Jersey. So Peterman has experienced the beauty of the Yantacaw pond and sampled the great pea soup in that little place at the corner of Passaic Avenue and Center Street?

Peterman: You've gone through hell to research this. You realize that each piece of copy takes at least a day to write. Add up the number of pieces of copy, and you know how many writers we have. I know all the writers, but I'm not sure who wrote that.

20.

Playboy: For those of us who are fans of Corvettes and T-birds, explain the appeal of your replica 1935 Auburn.

Peterman: It has one of the nicest asses I've ever seen. With its high fenders and its boat tail, the car is probably better looking from the rear than from the front. The Stutz Bearcat was an earlier boat tail, but it was kind of lumpy. The Duesenberg boat tail was very smooth but a little too rear-fendered. Auburns were a poor man's Duesenberg. There are more Auburns than Duesenbergs around, but they're still rare. In the Twenties and Thirties, there was a lot more beauty built into cars, as well as functionality. Car design began to get lost in the Forties and to get more utilitarian in the Fifties. Then some asshole in Detroit said you had to have big fins.

I think we are one of the few catalogs that have been debated in the House of Commons.