River Level

For all its 36 years, The New Yorker Magazine has been either fat enough or finicky enough to indulge its stubborn allergy to Madison Avenue exaggeration in advertising. It takes such a stringent view of overstatement that it once rejected a testimonial touting a how-to-golf pamphlet which offered the duffer the utterly unnecessary suggestion that he "stay out of traps." Since Arnold Palmer had just lost the Masters tournament by landing in a trap, The New Yorker sent the copy back to the agency, along with the advice that the agency might consider sending Palmer a copy of the book.

Despite such heroic countermeasures, The New Yorker failed to stem the tide. In 1955 it counted 698 ''unbelievable statements" in just six months' worth of ads, including 312 "finests," 281 "world's bests," and 47 examples of "other improbable nonsense." "Enough is enough is enough," said the magazine in an appeal to its advertisers. "Don't raise the bridge, boys . . . lower the river." The plea was saucily--and pointedly--signed by "America's First Most Only Magazine in the World." Last week, The New Yorker triumphantly announced that the river level had fallen 70%.

A reading of New Yorker ads that appeared during the first six months of this year, it said, turned up only 206 exaggerations. But while the hyperbole count was down, the sound of superlatives was as loud as ever. Examples: "World's most obedient bed" (a mattress firm), "newest and purest" (a car), "most useable, liveable, likeable" (another car), "most mysterious" (a cosmetic), "most heavenly drink on earth" (a blend of gin, herbs and fruit flavoring). Said New Yorker Advertising Director A. J. Russell Jr., drawing on the wisdom of 33 years' experience: "We never win completely."

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