The Baltimore Marketing Agency Built from a Front Stoop
In April 1996, Susi Silesky became the owner of a marketing agency she did not name, did not plan, and did not ask for. A set of letterhead and business cards appeared on the front stoop of her home. Someone else had designed the logo, chosen the name, and made the decision for her. Most agencies trace their beginnings to a business plan, a financial projection, and a launch date circled on a calendar. This Baltimore marketing agency has a different story—one built on a firing, a trip to Jazz Fest, and a package left on a doorstep. Paris, PR, and the Power of the Unexpected Susi moved to Paris the day after her college graduation as an au pair. She had no clear career direction and no goal beyond perfecting her French. A French relationship changed the timeline. She fell in love. What was meant to be one year abroad soon became four. By spring 1988, she was hired as the American assistant to the CEO of S3C Groupe de Communication Souham, a PR firm in Paris working with major international brands. The client roster included Sara Lee, Gillette, WR Grace, Tiffany & Co., and others. At first, she sat on the sidelines, observing account executives while handling administrative work. Then Sara Lee Corporation asked her to work on their cheesecake campaign. Once she gained direct experience with one client, the rest followed. She spent the next several years working with U.S. brands as the American liaison, building firsthand marketing knowledge at an international level. She returned home in the fall of 1991 with four years of experience nobody had mapped out. From Family Legacy to Community Leadership Back in Baltimore, Susi went straight to work at her father’s company, Quickee Offset, the first short-run printing company in Maryland. From 1991 to 1994, she organized and implemented a rebrand campaign for the 35-year-old printing company, which included a noteworthy billboard touting their work with the Baltimore Orioles. The billboard read: “Our Printing is for the Birds.” In 1994, the family business was sold, and Susi moved into the nonprofit world at the Associated Jewish Community Federation. For two years, she served as the account executive for nearly every agency in the Associated system—overseeing branding, strategy, and collateral. Every organization under the umbrella ran its marketing through the Associated’s internal department, and Susi managed the process. She loved the work. As she puts it, “It may have been my favorite work to date. I truly loved the work, the people, and the mission.” Finding Your Footing When the Ground Shifts The Associated let her go, unexpectedly. In a single moment, the stability she had disappeared. She was devastated. She had loved the job, the organizations, and the work she was doing for every agency in the system. In one moment, all of the stability she had built around the role disappeared. Ink, Paper, and a Prayer: The Surprise That Started it All On the advice of friends, she joined them for a trip to the New Orleans Jazz Fest, returning home with no clearer sense of what came next. Waiting on the front stoop was something unexpected: a complete brand identity. Business letterhead, cards, even a logo—someone had designed it all and named the company without her input. It was April 1996, and the business was called Silesky Marketing. In Susi’s words: “I started my business completely winging the whole thing—exactly what I tell my clients not to do.” She had no revenue, no clients, and no strategy. Just a name, a brand, and a decision she hadn’t made—but chose to run with anyway. The Front Porch That Launched a Legacy Trading Keys for Coastlines: The Pivot That Funded the Future With a company name and no income, Susi needed more than a brand, she needed a market. Her first instinct was bold: help American companies reach the Hispanic community. It made sense on paper. But in practice, there was a problem. After four years of speaking French in Paris, her Spanish had all but disappeared. She had studied it once, yes, but now it sat just out of reach, like a song she almost remembered. If the business was going to work, the language had to come back. So she did what she had already proven she was willing to do: she leapt. It wasn’t a small decision. In fact, it was a big one. It meant leaving the country again, paying her mortgage a month ahead, arranging for someone to care for her two cats, and sitting with the quiet, thrilling fear of stepping away from everything stable. It meant letting go of something she loved: the baby grand Steinway piano she had inherited from her Nana. She sold it, turned memory into motion, and used the money to buy herself eight weeks in Costa Rica. There, life narrowed and deepened all at once. She lived with a local family in Heredia, studied Spanish in the mornings, and spent her days listening, speaking, stumbling, learning. On weekends, she traveled through lush hills and unfamiliar roads, the kind of beauty that reminds you how far you’ve gone from home. It was exhilarating. It was exactly the kind of risk that changes a person. When she returned, she didn’t hesitate. She dove headfirst into Baltimore’s Hispanic community, volunteering, showing up, introducing herself again and again. She placed ads, attended every event she could find, and slowly, connections began to form. A few early clients came through, just enough to suggest she might be onto something. But even then, she could feel it: without deeper roots in Hispanic culture, without time and trust, growth would have its limits. The door had opened, but she was still standing on the outside. The Believers: Carrying the Torch from Old Chapters to New When her initial idea around Hispanic marketing proved harder to sustain, she pivoted, returning to the community she knew best. Gradually, relationships she had built years earlier began to reawaken.
