Monday, Jan. 31, 1955
Death of the Salesman?
Old-style commercial announcers, many of whom have spent 20 years selling a multitude of products over the air, may be on their way out. Elbowing them toward the discard is a new breed--most of them entertainers by profession--who have tied their commercial destinies to specific sponsors.
Perhaps seeing the handwriting on the wall, veteran Announcer Dick Stark, who has earned as much as $150,000 a year selling Chesterfield cigarettes. Camay soap. Amm-i-dent toothpaste and Remington electric shavers, is now hard at work studying architecture and will quit broadcasting entirely when he graduates. Another high-income veteran, Ed Herlihy, had this month to make a tough decision: after eight years as announcer on NBC's Kraft TV Theater, Herlihy got the choice of signing an exclusive contract or leaving the show. He decided to stick with his other accounts (Colgate, Oldsmobile, French's mustard, Hoffman's beverages, Horn & Hardart).
Ease the Way. The new look in announcers is being supplied by such entertainers as Cinemactor William Lundigan (Chrysler), Singer Vaughn Monroe (RCA Victor), Ballet Dancer Dorothy Jarnac (Stopette). Even where commercial announcers are kept on the job, entertainers are being hired to introduce them. On NBC's Oldsmobile Spectaculars, Actor Lee Bowman dresses up in evening clothes for the sole purpose of saying: "And now, ladies and gentlemen, here is Ed Herlihy with a message from our sponsor . . ."
Manhattan Adman Frank Egan explains that the new trend is simply an effort by sponsors to make commercials as painless as possible for viewers: "In radio you could use a musical bridge between the entertainment and the message so that the commercials didn't seem so abrupt and jarring. But on TV, if you interrupt audience attention to plunge into a commercial, viewers get resentful." For this reason nearly all TV hosts and masters of ceremonies are supposed to ease the way into the sales message.
On Lux Video Theater. Host James Mason looks pained about it, but pluckily mentions Lux; Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Adolphe Menjou smack their lips respectively over Rheingold and Schaefer beers; Jon Hall goes into ecstasies over Jay's potato chips; and Loretta Young apparently keeps a box of Tide on her grand piano. There are only a few holdouts, notably Sid Caesar who sticks strictly to his funny business.
Wooden Expression. Most admen agree that the new look in announcers was started by Ed Sullivan of Toast of the Town. Despite his wooden expression and lack of announcer's glibness, Sullivan does the sort of job that makes any sponsor swoon with joy. He spends much of his offscreen time racing around the nation on the dedicated work of selling Lincolns and Mercurys. He addresses regional meetings of auto dealers ("I explain that we're all part of a team'') and will show up in Portland. Ore., for its Rose Festival or Memphis for the crowning of the Cotton Queen. Wherever he goes he is accompanied by a glistening motorcade of Lincolns and Mercurys. In Houston, Sullivan agreed to preside at the opening of the new $9,000,000 Prudential Insurance building, but first arranged for a display of his sponsor's cars in the lobby. When Sam Goldwyn, Oscar Hammerstein II, Josh Logan or Walt Disney are guests on Toast of the Town, Sullivan sees to it that their wives get gift Lincolns. ("That gets a lot of caste-conscious people buying Lincolns.'")
Four Different Hats. No old-style announcer, selling six or seven different products a week, can hope to equal Sullivan's devotion to one sponsor, and that is why they are losing out on the newcomers, who have but a single loyalty. Betty Furness travels from coast to coast for Westinghouse; the statuesque Roxanne. who does commercials for Sylvania. is a regular visitor at conventions and is always delighted to have her picture taken with the district's top salesman. Even Veteran Rex Marshall, who does commercials for four sponsors each week, is trying hard to adjust to the trend by wearing four different hats as the occasion requires. "When I do a show for Camel News Caravan, I'm a Camel man.'' he says stoutly. "And I feel the same way about the others (Reynolds aluminum. Dodge. Maxwell House) when I work for them.'' But what the sponsors increasingly crave is a man like Ed Sullivan, who has given blood in San Francisco, landed in a helicopter on Boston Common, and submerged in a Navy diver's suit, all for the glory of Lincoln-Mercury.
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