Matt McGowan
I love this city.
As much growth and momentum as Quincy has seen in recent years,
I know that we haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of our full potential. The Chamber of Commerce plays a vital role in what comes next, and I believe in my bones that I have the vision, personality, and experience to help lead that effort as Executive Director.
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My story and value may get lost in the pile of traditional resumes, especially for those outside the advertising world. So I built this digital cover letter to give you, dear reader,
a better sense of who I am and, most importantly, how I think.
This is an important decision for the search committee, and the stakes are high for the city and the Chamber. We’re in a good place, but we’re also facing strong headwinds that will require steady leadership, clear priorities, and a willingness to adapt. None of it will be easy, but I’m ready for the mission.
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While I want to be the catalyst that helps this city reach its full potential, I know our success will depend on collaboration at every single level. I’m sure many strong candidates have applied for this position, but I can only run my race, and I hope that by the end of this experience, you will see what I can add to the Chamber.
THE MCGOWANS AT QUINCY 400.
NOBODY WAS MORE SURPRISED THAN
ME THAT MY 9-YEAR-OLD SOMEHOW
KNEW JOHN FOGERTY SONGS.
Great choice.
Wow. That's terrific. When do I start? We haven't even talked about salary, benefits, or start dates…
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Oh? Oh. Right. ​
You didn't mean: Let's give this guy a shot…
I see. No. That would have been wild.
And terribly imprudent now that I think about it.
I don't take any of this lightly.
This is a huge role and a big deal for the city. People's livelihoods are on the line. 401(k)s have been cashed out. Small business owners have gone all-in. Some finally made the jump from small to medium-sized business, only to find out that, crap, scaling this thing is so much more complicated than ever imagined. And boy, what a scary time to be a business owner.​
The economy is nuts. Inflation, relentless. Technology changes by the second.
It’s hard to keep up or even know which way is up. Speaking of up. Rent, utilities, insurance, taxes, fees, shipping, healthcare, payroll, maintenance, interest rates. All up. And if we have to hear the word unprecedented one more time, I will scream. No wonder retention is one of the biggest concerns right now for the Chamber. It’s tough out there, and our members are feeling it more than ever.
MERCY.
Which is precisely why
we need a strong Chamber.
And the pig? Well, it's an allegory that will reveal itself later.
Until then, let's start the journey, shall we?
I'm from Quincy.
I know Quincy inside and out. I know every shortcut and which ones to take depending on the hour. Because that matters. I know Tasos had the best chicken kabob before the fire. I know that different people make the donuts at Donut King, and I have a strong preference. I shop at Danny’s Hardware whenever I can because I know he could use the business. Curry is my go-to, though, especially when I need advice from Rick, Gene, or Joanne downstairs, who somehow has an encyclopedic knowledge of nuts and bolts.
I left Quincy.
I’ve been to 8 Canadian provinces and 49 states, saving the best for last. Someday I’ll get to Rhode Island. I lived in Colorado for three years, Hawaii for one, and California for a little less than a week (long story). While working for Jeep, I spent a year traveling the country, two weeks at a time in each location. Advertising took me to every nook and cranny, from major cities to small towns. Unfortunately, some of my clients were headquartered in Monroe, LA, Cleveland, OH, and Detroit, MI.
I came back to Quincy.
I'm very proud of my hometown and feel so lucky that I was able to convince my wife, from coastal Maine, to abandon her postcard-worthy roots and settle down right here in the City of Presidents. She wasn't crazy about the idea at first, but has grown to love this city as much as I do. We can't go anywhere in Quincy Point without her students from Clifford Marshall yelling her name, as if she's a celebrity—which she is.​
My daughters walk to Beechwood Knoll and Central Middle School and are involved in a million activities after school and on the weekends. This is where the shortcuts come in handy, and also my opportunity to tell Dad Jokes and point out childhood memories I've retold countless times.
Which is probably why the video I wrote, directed, and edited with my lifelong friend, Scott Campbell, struck a chord with so many people. According to the French company Analytics de Google, more than 50,000 unique viewers watched it within seven days. Why? I'd say it's because I authentically love this city, and it resonated with people who do too. You can't fake that.
I spent over two decades in advertising.
The equivalent of 173 dog years. Over that lifetime, I was fortunate to learn from and work with some of the most creative problem solvers in the business. But nothing was more formative than my upbringing in Quincy.
Hey Matt, tell me about your childhood first.
Okay. I grew up in Adams Shore, Quincy's Best Kept Secret. But, I come from Roxbury & South Boston Money. I'm a descendant of a long line of hardworking, decent people who made the most of what they had. Which wasn't much, but it was everything. And also, Uncle Jimmy.
My dad was thrown out of Boston Latin School for disciplinary reasons, but several years later, he somehow graduated at the top of his class from Harvard Business School. And at the expense of sounding like a bad wedding toast, his most extraordinary feat was marrying my mother. She was, and still is, an incredible schoolteacher who, like my wife, can't go anywhere around North Quincy without her students from Quincy Catholic Academy yelling her name as if she's a celebrity—which she is. My dad *foreshadowing* was, and still is, a serial entrepreneur.
While neither came from money, they were "raised right," and they made sure that my brother, sister, and I followed suit. They never, ever let us forget where we, or they, came from. We were constantly reminded about how our ancestors overcame adversity and sacrificed for us. Basically, a page right out of the Boston Irish stoicism handbook. But I don't want to give the wrong impression. It wasn't Angela's Ashes, it was more like Angela's Ashtray.
We had it really good.
Describe your image
Boston Irish Stoicism
Even the Italians couldn't escape it around here. And while many psychologists and wellness coaches today would shudder, I see this long-held tradition as a mixed blessing. In my house, unless you were impaled with a sword, you went to school or work. No exceptions. When it snowed, you shoveled our sidewalk and then Henry’s, Astrid’s, and Bea’s. Even when my dad started earning what one colleague called Wellesley Money, my parents wanted no part of that world. They worried their kids would get spoiled and too soft, so they kept their success from friends, neighbors, and even us. I wouldn't find out until years later, but my parents quietly covered the costs of hockey equipment, tuition, and travel fees for our friends and teammates. And when my dad’s small business failed, the utilities were shut off, and Christmas never came; they didn’t complain. They just kept chugging along. Their strength carries me to this day.
Squash and Yoga
My parents were more comfortable at the YMCA than the Harvard Club, but at one point, we had memberships to both. Because that's where the old man networked and held meetings. The kids preferred the Y as well. Mostly because it had racquetball courts. Not that we understood the rules of either game, but we played a bombardment-style (trying to hit each other), and the squash balls hurt like hell. I'm sure we looked like the Beverly Hillbillies compared to Wellesley Money, but my parents didn't care. The only rules we had were being respectful and well-mannered. My dad drove a bright orange pickup truck, and by any standards, it was a shitbox. He wasn't driving this to appear humble; he just liked it. My mother did not. Mostly because we piled into the back like cattle, and out of favor with the early 80s, she had the good sense for child safety. She also practiced yoga long before it became an identity and part of wellness narcissism we see today. She'd happily tell anyone about the benefits she got from it, but you wouldn't catch her virtue-signalling to anyone.
Söphie's Chøice.
Well, friend, we're about halfway through, and I wanted to check in with you first. I don't want you to feel trapped like you're in an IKEA labyrinth with one of those stupid carts that keep drifting sideways. I wanted to give you the option to slide into the Marketplace with your proverbial IDANÄS bookcase (me) and hopefully a sturdy ficus plant.
Entrepreneur is hard to spell.
And it's even harder to say when you're just a kid and everyone asks what your Dad does for work because they secretly think he's in the CIA. I mean, who the hell flies to Brussels that much? Well, he did because he ran an international baby furniture company called Bunny Bear. Think Buy Buy Baby before they went bye-bye. Heartbreakingly, Bunny Bear filed for bankruptcy, and a case study was actually written about how my father did everything he could to save it. The lesson? Non-financial competition.
What's that mean? Well, you'll have to read the case study.​​​
That's the environment I grew up around. At the kitchen table, like any typical family, we talked about price elasticity, Wade Boggs, and, of course, EBIDITA. A proud certified public accountant, with offers from all Big 8 firms (a Southie Kid who just wanted a free lunch on their dime), landed at Coopers and Lybrand. He taught me at an early age, and I wish I were kidding, that there are stories in numbers. And it's not just math. It's a story, and if you know how to look at the numbers, you can find the story. And that never left me because I think it humanizes business. Real people are behind these numbers, with families, and it goes far beyond a ledger.
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It doesn’t take much to see how the small businesses my father ran shaped the way I look at work and responsibility. He owned a camera store, a gift company, and a bakery, and each one came with its own set of challenges. Running a business is not for the faint of heart. It affects the owner, the family, and everyone who depends on it. I grew up in a house where meeting payroll by the skin of your teeth was normal. Where an overnight driver calling in sick meant someone in the family delivered the bagels. Where a trusted partner stealing cameras left us with shelves of empty Leica boxes and a hard lesson in trust. Those years taught me what pressure feels like, what commitment looks like, and how personal the stakes really are for small business owners.
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You can’t teach that. You have to live it. Those experiences gave me a deep well of empathy for small business owners and real respect for what they carry. It’s why I want to make sure they’re supported, why I care about the value they get from the Chamber, and why I’m committed to helping them in every way I can.
THE CASE STUDY
From bar rooms
For better or worse, I worked at the Hofbrau when I was in high school. Let's just say, I saw and heard some things. That job taught me more about people than anything else. I learned to think on my feet, hold a conversation with anyone, in any condition, and read a room fast. I watched people get hustled on that little pool table and realized quickly that a healthy dose of street smarts goes a long way. I realized that people aren't always who they seem. I saw how a good time could quickly devolve into a bad time, and the difference between the two was razor-thin. Above all, I learned the importance of treating everyone with dignity and respect, even when they don't deserve it.
To boardrooms
These rooms are more perilous than bar rooms. At Chrysler headquarters in Auburn Hills, I once presented to executives at the biggest table I’d ever seen. On the line were seven-figure budgets and the jobs of colleagues back home in Boston. Around that table sat friendly faces — wolves in sheep’s clothing — from rival agencies, all chasing the same pile of money. Their smiles came easily, their questions seemed benign, but every word had an angle. I learned to walk through a gauntlet of polite hostility. Doing your homework and being prepared is required, but reading the room and thinking on your feet determines whether you win the work or have a long, quiet flight back to Boston.
So, which boardrooms
have you been in?
These ones. Aesthetically speaking, some are impressive; most are not. ​​
And no, the technology never works in any of them.
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Ok, finally, we get to the work.
Yes. But first, Hawaii.
Where I learned everything I know about branding, hospitality, and, well, life itself.
I worked at the Ritz-Carlton pool bar in Kapalua, Maui, serving Mai Tais to celebrities, athletes, and the ultra-wealthy. For the most part, the guests are just like us mere mortals in the lower tax brackets. Sure, Dame Judi Dench sent her chopped Greek salad back to the kitchen in a bit of a huff, but other than that, she was quite lovely, really.
Interacting with high-profile guests became routine. You'd see a handsome fella at the end of the bar who looked awfully like Denzel Washington, only to realize it was, in fact, Denzel. And the guy next to him? The one drinking a light beer from a can? Well, unbeknownst to most, he was the most powerful and influential person at the resort. But you'd never know it from his well-worn sandals, outdated bathing suit, and sunglasses he bought at CVS.
Just like the garbage men, tradesmen, and middle managers at the Hofbrau 5,903 miles back east, nobody wants to be fawned over. That's inauthentic, and it's that transactional BS which high-powered people find repellent. They want normal, honest interactions, like anyone else. That's why the studio exec wanted to take a break from his pile of scripts and talk about my Boston accent. The professional golfer asked where to get the best fish tacos in town and where I liked to surf. And the reason Dame Judy Densch called me by my first name at the end of her stay was precisely that I didn't kiss her ass. Over the course of her stay, we built rapport. We connected. Enough for her to bust my chops about seeing that dreadful band Phish at London's Royal Albert Hall.
So, what does any of that
have to do with branding?
Everything. A brand is a living, breathing organism. It's not just a logo, color palette, or tagline. It's much more powerful than that. It's a million different small details executed and expressed consistently over time. The Ritz-Carlton knew that, and that's why it invests so heavily in building and maintaining its brand every single day. They know it's one thing to say it, and another thing to live it. And that's what most brands miss. Even the big ones that spend millions of dollars on agencies and consultants. If you don't live out your brand promise, none of the other stuff matters.​​
In its simplest form, a brand is how you feel. And the best ones are built from the inside out. I should know, because I've experienced branding from all angles. As a person on the front lines of hospitality gigs from world-class ski resorts in Colorado, dive bars in Boston, and five-diamond resorts like the Ritz. I've also been in the trenches working on and creating brand campaigns at all levels, across all categories and sectors, from startups to Fortune 100s. Most importantly, I understand branding as a customer.​​​​​
Empathy is my middle name.
It's actually Stephen, but working in advertising for over two decades has taught me how to walk a mile in others' shoes. I can assure you, a single guy in his twenties doesn't know much about diapers or post-partum depression, but when the Pampers campaign landed on my desk, it was time to dive in. I immersed myself in the world of young mothers. I pored through "mommy" message boards, read books, and spoke to friends, family, and neighbors, which, in retrospect, must have been super awkward. But that's the type of work it takes to understand an audience.
And it's why I approach every project with curiosity and empathy. Whether I am writing a script, creating a landing page, planning, and hosting an event, it's the same process. It's all about the customer. What are they thinking and feeling? How can I break through and offer something of value that will improve their life in some small or big way?
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You'll find that commitment to the customer in everything I do.
Selected Work
I feel like it's night one on The Bachelor.
I've done all the talking. Let's talk about you.
What would you say
…you would do here?
Everything. I'm a big-picture thinker who gets his hands dirty. At the Ritz, we called it Lateral Ownership. You didn't walk by a problem because it wasn't in your job description. If you saw a napkin on the ground, you picked it up. At Colossus, we called it Get Shit Done. No job was too small or beneath the senior leadership. I lead by example. I get in the weeds and do whatever needs to be done, whether that is taking out the trash or, worse, making banner ads. I believe this style of leadership is exactly what's needed at the Chamber.
I love it when a plan comes together.
We all know that when it comes to plans, Philosopher Mike Tyson probably said it best. Nevertheless, below is an outline of a plan I'd propose to the board. I would work with them to determine and prioritize which strategies to execute. This is more of a demonstration of my leadership style and how I approach complex projects.
Back to School
My experience at Quincy College is probably the best parallel to what I would bring to the Chamber. Out of necessity, I wore many hats. Some I tried on for the first time, and a few fit better than others. As the Executive Director of Marketing, I was in charge of the big picture stuff, all in service of student enrollment: vision, branding, positioning, strategy, creative direction, messaging, competitive analysis, mentorship, and senior leadership.
I was also in charge of execution, so you could find me on most nights and weekends, ​setting up promotional booths at the FreeJacks games. Designing, printing, and hanging posters around campus for student events. Driving Joe Zappi and his friends home from hockey games. Coding landing pages. Updating the website. Talking with Deans and professors about their needs and how to connect with more students. Watching hoop games and being genuinely bummed when they lost. Essentially, I lived, breathed, ate, slept, and drank everything Quincy College. I played a big part in the larger group effort of boosting enrollment and getting the college back on track.
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Brand Strategist
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Copywriter
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Designer
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Photographer
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Video Editor
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Sound Engineer
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Project Manager
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Proofreader
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Event Planner
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​Website Developer
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Recruiter
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Production Assistant
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​Social Media
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Printer
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​Admissions Support
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Furniture Mover
I'm flexible.
Professionally speaking, of course. In the span of an afternoon at my last ad agency, I presented cat food commercials to our pet food clients. I'm a dog person, by the way, and they knew that. Next, I hopped on a call with our senior living client to diplomatically discuss the technical limitations of their in-house developer and the negative impact it's having on our burn report. Afterwards, I jumped into my very first call with our new life sciences client to present manifestos, moodboards, and headlines for their latest technology: nanosecond pulsed field ablation.
A topic I never knew existed just days prior, but here I was, presenting to a grid of people on Zoom, most of whom had a Dr. prefix. A quick LinkedIn search the night before revealed they were mainly Harvard-educated surgeons, along with that one slouch from Johns Hopkins. Fun.​ I mentioned that most of us went to grad school in Longwood. After a very long beat, I got a big laugh when I clarified that I went to MassArt. Earlier in my career, I wouldn't have had the courage to break the ice like that. But it was important, because on the ensuing slides, I was about to present a range of ideas, and gasp, some of them were comedic. I needed to disarm them early and to my surprise and delight, they went with them.
I have range.
I would argue I know more about business than most MBAs. As a creative problem solver, it comes down to art and science. Ideas only work when they’re grounded in research, data, competitive analysis, media spending, audience segmentation, customer personas, and the realities of how people actually behave. Creativity without strategy falls flat, and strategy without creativity never moves anyone. The sweet spot is knowing how to blend both, then turning that blend into something that drives real results.
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I understand business because I’ve been allowed to look under the hood of literally hundreds of companies, ranging from small startups to Fortune 100s. I’ve sat with their leadership teams, learned their real problems, and helped solve them with creativity rooted in strategy. Over time, being surrounded by smart, seasoned operators had a compounding effect. You can’t help but absorb how they think, how they frame problems, and how they make tough decisions. That experience gives me a distinct advantage. I know how to connect the dots between brand, operations, customer behavior, and revenue. It’s why I can help the Chamber tell a stronger story, and it’s why I can help local businesses do the same.
That's great, Mister Creative Director,
but what do you know about finances?
That's a fair question. Yes, I went to art school, not business school, but there are two words in my title. Creative, which we've covered. And Director, which doesn't nearly get the focus it deserves. I've been working with salary caps my whole career. Budgets keep getting smaller, and expectations keep getting bigger. As I've climbed the ladder, my computer has more spreadsheet tabs open than Adobe.
Quincy College
Managed the Marketing and Communications budget
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Set spending priorities to support enrollment growth.
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Negotiated vendor contracts
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Tracked performance data to ensure every dollar spent delivered a measurable return.
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Coordinated with deans and administration to align marketing investments with revenue goals.
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Streamlined processes inside the department to cut waste and improve efficiency.
Zozimus
Co-managed the P&L for
The Creative Department
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Only profitable department through COVID and kept the agency financially viable.
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Ran a hybrid full-time and freelance model that helped the team scale efficiently and stay flexible.
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Negotiated production budgets and managed resources to protect margins.
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Helped grow existing accounts and win new business.
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Balanced creative work with the financial needs of the department.
Colossus
Creatively led the largest account at the agency
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Served on the senior leadership team that oversaw the agency’s financial health.
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Led the agency’s largest account and guided the creative work that drove its growth.
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Forecasted team bandwidth as part of the staffing and resourcing group.
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Monitored burn reports to protect margins and keep projects profitable.
Ok, so what's with the pig?
A lesson learned from the documentary The Biggest Little Farm, and it’s one we can apply to Quincy's local economy.​
Create a Flywheel
The documentary shows how a chaotic mix of soil, animals, crops, water, predators, and pests at Apricot Lane Farm slowly becomes something healthy once each part begins to support the others. What looks like disorder in the early days turns into balance as every element finds its place. Strength in one corner lifts the whole landscape, and weakness in another sends ripples through it. You see how a system only thrives when every piece, large or small, is treated as part of one living whole.
A local economy works the same way. No business survives alone, and every decision reverberates through the wider community. Restaurants rely on foot traffic. Foot traffic rises when transit, events, and safety line up. Shops depend on workers who can afford to live nearby. Workers depend on housing, childcare, and opportunity. Each part shapes the others. This is where the Chamber matters. It becomes the steward of that ecosystem, tending the connections, spotting pressure points before they break, and helping the flywheel build enough strength to turn on its own. When you treat a city like a living thing, the work changes, the purpose sharpens, and the growth lasts.
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Let's get to work.