Save a Polar Bear, Drink Booze

And now, join us once again for an adventure into the fantastic wilds of vintage advertising. As carefully observed and recorded from a 1942 issue of Liberty Magazine, let us see how the Madison Avenue species of that era managed to link the natural instincts of wildlife with alcohol consumption, yet avoiding the cliche of caribou or water buffalo stampeding to the watering hole.



Meet Clark and Mark, the generic, tie-wearing gents who evidently served as ambassadors for Calvert's Whiskey. The pair closely scrutinize two illustrations of polar bears floating above their heads. I find the baby polar bear treating a fish as if it was a favored blanket rather endearing. Thus we get a potted lesson on camouflage and the phrase "fleecy white cubs" into the bargain. But say, what does any of this have to do with intoxicating beverages, outside of the presence of ice in bulk?



Aha! Just as a mother polar bear protects her cubs, CALVERT'S PROTECTIVE BLENDING "protects the flavor and good taste of Calvert Whiskey." Wait a minute, wouldn't flavor and good taste by synonymous when applied to something one ingests? Or does this mysterious blending process serve as a kind of methylated Lady Bracknell, insuring that Calvert Whiskey never places its elbows on the table or begins consorting with tradesmen and bookmakers? And why are Clark and Mark seemingly drinking not from ordinary shot glasses but from something akin to beakers or oversized testubes? Are they not prosperous businessmen after all but, in fact, druggists who decided to have a liquid lunch before filling old Mrs. Rassmussen's liver pill order?

Anyway, move on to the second panel, which after giving one the option of "richer" or "lighter" whiskeys (once again, vintage liquor ads are at times nearly indistinguishable from tobacco ads, except perhaps for the fact that fewer doctors tended to recommend whiskey in public.) Note particularly the closing tagline: "Clear Head (clear-headed buyers) Call for CALVERT." Linking 90 proof whiskey with clear headedness is either audacious, unintentionally absurd, or an attempt to compliment the genteel, thinking rotgut purchaser on their wisdom and sagacity in buying Calvert. An approach oft used for many a substance.

I have a bit of a headache myself right now, but I don't think I shall seek out Calvert for the cure. Evidently they do still exist, but "Calvert Extra" is now a mere 80 proof whiskey. Still blended, though!

The overall impression I took from this ad, particularly in light of climate change issues, was that the best way to save polar bears would be to get them utterly sloshed on whiskey. They would then be more buoyant and able to swim further to a new climate, and if not, they'd at least drown with a smile! Eesh.

Cigareets and Whiskey

Been a topsy-turvey holiday period (we got the tree up barely a week or so before, Mom fixed cookies just yesterday, we didn't even have a meal together), plus stress and such (though I finally submitted my chapter for the upcoming Kermit Culture anthology of Muppt essays to the editors). Anyway, we'll see if I can blog more in the coming year (certainly stockpiled plenty of subjects and images), maybe even take a stab at this here "daily blogging" fad.

For now, no cigareets, but have some whiskey:


I'm often fascinated by vintage advertising, especially pertaining to products where public perception has changed considerably in the intervening years. In this ad, which appeared in newspapers in November 1936, the first element that stood out, thanks to the text on the coin, is a very clear "Hey, prohibition ended three years ago! Yay for legal booze!" statement. Secondly, I don't trust "Silver Dollar" Brady in his pilgrim outfit and that unnerving grin, carving the turkey with a little too much zeal. He might be trustworthy sober, but no possible good can come from adding quantities of bourbon whiskey to the equation.

I did some further digging on this artifact. "Silver Dollar" Brady, real name Tom Brady, is not actually a pitchman created for the brand. He was a wealthy and reasonably high-profile (and colorful) Dallas racehorse owner and rodeo organizer. He earned his nickname through his passion for silver dollars, amassing a collection of same and, according to newspaper accounts, paying in same (and urging others to do likewise to increase their circulation over all that cumbersome paper money). Clearly Seagram's (the owner of the brand) saw a good thing and hired him as their public face (supposedly there was "79 years of whiskey making experience" behind the product, but I can't find anything on it prior to 1936, shortly before Brady came on board). In the whiskey ads, supposedly penned by Brady, he comes across as a low-rent, thirsty Will Rogers, dispensing homespun wisdom, dropped d's and g's, and of course liquor with equal equanimity.

As for the product, David Shea, an expert on such matters, tells me 90 proof provides "a pretty good kick in the pants."
In 1936 ads in this series, Brady compared Silver Dollar Whiskey to prize-fighters like "Gentleman" Jim Corbett: starts out nice and polite but then doles out a powerful punch. By the fall of 1937, the tactic had changed, focusing on affordability, history, and how it suits everybody." They were also tied to Rogers-esque subjects such as politicians and Congress. Don't worry your head about parties and elections and all that high-falutin' stuff, just get yerself a nice shot of Silver Dollar Whiskey! (Does that thing come in its own glass flask? Certainly what the bottle looks like to me.)

Silver Dollar Whiskey appears to be long gone, though Seagram's is still around.