At 50, AARP Enters Its Golden Years

"AARP is a giant with two heads," said Ken Dychtwald, an author and gerontologist. "On the one hand, it has got strong currents of altruism and moral high ground. On the other, it's a rip-roaring marketing engine."

"If you're trying to grow revenue and gain new members who are turning 50, then what they're doing is brilliant," Dychtwald said. "However, if your proposition is to be the defender and the advocate of the poor and elderly, it could be argued that you're a bit turning your back on them."

William D. Novelli, AARP's avuncular chief executive, waves off the criticism with the easy laugh of an elder dismissing a whippersnapper.

"Those revenues are what makes it possible to speak on behalf of older Americans," Novelli said. "Size and success brings criticism. I have an uncle who was a bombardier. He used to say, 'If you're not taking flak, you're not over the target.' "

The PR Man Comes to Town

Novelli's downtown office has the usual trappings of a Washington pooh-bah: at least one framed newspaper profile about the occupant, as well as photos of said occupant with various presidents (Bush I, Bush II and Clinton), one secretary of state (Colin Powell) and one prime minister (Tony Blair).

At 67, Novelli is the kind of senior citizen AARP loves to celebrate, an elder who doesn't act so elderly. He's a fitness freak who pumps considerable iron in AARP's gym and weighs only two pounds more than he did some 45 years ago when he played safety for the University of Pennsylvania's football team.

His idea of an April Fool's joke was to notify AARP's 1,200 District employees at its behemoth E Street NW headquarters that he was shutting down the elevators, perhaps permanently, and they would have to use the stairs. Novelli, of course, regularly hikes the 180 steps -- yes, he knows the number -- to his 10th-floor office (even after bench-pressing 175 pounds in the basement).

Novelli's path to AARP was a bit more circuitous. He grew up outside Pittsburgh, the son of a steelworker-turned-insurance agent, before embarking on a career in marketing and advertising. While he was invigorated by the competition and the challenge of climbing the ladder, he said he was nagged by a sense that there might be something more meaningful than peddling toothpaste.

A turning point, Novelli said, came after he joined a New York ad firm. He returned from a meeting with a client carrying two test samples in his briefcase: one for a new dog food, the other for kids' cereal. A copywriter came into his office and asked to see the cereal. As a joke, Novelli tossed him the sample of dog food.

"Yeah, we can sell that," the copywriter said.

Novelli knew then that he needed a change.

"I'm not demeaning selling dog food," he said. "I just couldn't find any social relevance in it, and that's what I was looking for."