My wife and I were driving along the narrow French road in the Vienne River valley on the outskirts of Bonnes, a few miles from Poitiers. As we rounded a small bend, a great stone building with ancient, honey-hued stones came into view. It was Touffou, the 12th Century chateau inhabited by the legendary David Ogilvy since his departure in semi-retirement from the US. We approached the estate on an even narrower car path. Driving through the gates and past a large flowering horse chestnut tree, we stopped before crossing over a precarious-looking, old wooden bridge over the dry moat "protecting" the chateau. A figure appeared in a distant window overlooking the forecourt. It was D.O. himself, in blue blazer, gray trousers, shirt and ever-present rep tie. He waved, smiled, and signaled for us to park in the forecourt.

This adventure began a few months earlier when I left the Young & Rubicam advertising agency to join Ogilvy & Mather in Chicago. My wife, Susanne, and I had planned a trip to France before the job change was completed. At a reception at O&M Chicago President Bill Whitney's house, we were introduced to David. We mentioned our impending trip, secretly hoping David would invite us to stop by and tour Touffou. He immediately insisted we "must" visit and we "must" plan to stay two nights. It was a much more generous invitation than we had expected.

So it was late afternoon as we parked our rented Renault and walked toward the chateau doors. D.O. was the model of graciousness. He welcomed us into his grand old chateau and showed us to our room, up a circular stone staircase, in one of the original towers of the chateau. He introduced us to his wife, Herta, and her daughter, Laurens, who accompanied us on a tour of the old building and grounds. We actually saw fewer than half the rooms, but you could sense the antiquity in each, despite being spruced up for contemporary living.

"Come and see my garden," said David. He was an avid gardener with a beautiful formal garden behind the chateau. On this trip, however, there was sadness. A very cold winter has killed off large portions of the plantings. He apologized for the condition and pointed to various shrubs and plants, describing what they should have looked like, if we only winter had not been so cruel.

Concluding the tour, David asked what we would take to loosen the taste buds before dinner. "Wine, of course," we both said. We were, after all, in France. David had something stronger. Scotch, I think.

Dinner was served by Collette, the cook. We joined David, Herta and Laurens for a simple, but delicious country meal of kedgeree, an English dish of rice, eggs, fish and cream, avocado soup and strawberry tart.

After dinner, we retired to the lounge and sat on fat, fluffy, white-covered furniture sipping coffee and smoking cigars before a warm fire. Like the researcher he was, David kept turning the conversation to me with incessant questions about my experiences. I tried, without great success, to get him to talk about his ideas. As the evening drifted toward bedtime, he said, "I hate you, Bill Waites." "I'm sorry," I said. "Why would you hate me? I didn't think you even knew me." "Oh yes, I knew you, " he said, "and I hate you because you stole the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico account from me when you were at Y&R."

David was convinced that the only reason the Puerto Rico account left O&M and was awarded to Y&R, a pitch I was involved in, was because my firm had been the beneficiaries of a change in Commonwealth government. I assured him that we had worked very hard and thoughtfully to win the account, regardless of the government. He was polite enough to concede the point, but I don't think he believed it.

It was a mark of the man's gentility, as further demonstrated by the news he then bestowed upon us. He, Herta and Laurens had to leave after breakfast in the morning. He had to go to Edinburgh to open a new O&M office. Herta and Laurens were off to start Laurens in school in England. "You still must stay tomorrow night," he said. "All arrangements have been made with the cook and gardener." We were stunned. One night in Touffou was extraordinary. A second, on our own, possibly to poke around in rooms we had missed, was irresistible. "Please be our guests," he requested, as if there was any chance we would decline.

That morning, after a country breakfast, The Ogilvys left Touffou as Susanne and I stood at the window and waved to them. We then (don't tell anyone) toured the empty chateau one more time on our own, this time including the prison that David refused to show us because it was "too spooky." We went into Poitiers that day to see and shop, and returned for a private dinner, prepared and served exclusively for us. The next morning, we continued our trip heading to the Bordeaux, Carcasonne and the Dordogne.

I only saw David two times after that. His fear of flying was so profound that he seldom traveled anywhere he couldn't get by land or sea. But we corresponded and his letters are among my most prized memorabilia. In the last, he closed with, "You will always be welcome at Touffou."

I never doubted it, David.

The same week JFK Jr. died, David Ogilvy passed on at the age of 88. He was a supreme gentleman, opinionated but thoughtful, and flexible when confronted with evidence contrary to his opinions. He changed the nature of advertising with his intelligent approach to it. He was one of the first proponents of brand building. His campaigns for Hathaway shirts, Rolls Royce, American Express, and other brands were legendary. And he left us with many guidelines (he never called them "rules") intended to make advertising more effective and efficient. He also left us with a long list of bon mots about the craft of advertising -- good words we all would do well to consider.

"Unless your advertising is built on a big idea, it will pass like a ship in the night."

"Never write an advertisement you wouldn't want your own family to read."

"The most important decision is how to position your product."

"Within every brand is a product, but not every product is a brand."

"I admire people with gentle manners who treat other people like human beings."

"The consumer is not a moron. She is your wife. Don't insult her intelligence."

"If your advertising looks cheap or shoddy, it will rub off on your product."

"There are no dull products, only dull writers."

"Search all the parks in all your cities. You'll find no statues of committees"

"Committees can criticize, but they cannot create."

"Do not compete with your agency in the creative area. Why keep a dog and bark yourself."

William Ernest Waites is chairman and co-creative director of Spiro & Waites Advertising, Marketing and Public Relations. His experience includes extensive work at Proctor & Gamble, Young & Rubicam and Ogilvy & Mather advertising agenci