Читать книгу Andy Blake in Advertising - Edward Edson Lee - Страница 8

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Andy was too tired to give much thought that night to how he was going to sell the ouija boards. Two minutes after he crawled into bed he was sound asleep. But the next morning as soon as he was awake he began revolving the proposition in his mind.

On the way to church he told his mother about the ouija boards, and she was amused at his perplexity.

“Maybe Mr. Landers is having a joke at your expense,” she suggested.

“No-o,” said Andy slowly. “He isn’t joking. You see, Mother, he has a lot of money tied up in the ouija boards. Unless he can sell the ouija boards and get his money back, it’s just like throwing that much money in a deep well where it does nobody any good. He’s sincere in wanting us to sell the ouija boards. Gee! I suppose there is a way to do it, but I can’t figure it out.”

“Well, you better put the ouija boards out of your mind till after Sunday school,” Mrs. Blake suggested, as they came to the church and quietly entered and took seats.

Andy struggled to carry out this suggestion, but many times during the course of the morning sermon his thoughts trailed away. He reviewed the ribbon and broom sales. The fundamental appeal of the ribbon advertising was a “desire to possess.” In the broom advertising the basic appeal was “money saving.” Certainly these appeals would not apply to the ouija boards.

“Did you enjoy the sermon, Andy?” his mother inquired gently, when the service was over and Andy was about to head for the Sunday-school room.

He flushed.

“Why, I—I—” he stammered.

“Aren’t you ashamed?” his mother reproved. “I knew you weren’t listening to the sermon. Why, Andy! All the time you were thinking of those old ouija boards.”

“I guess you’d keep thinking of them, too, if you had the job of selling them,” returned Andy, a humorous expression lighting up his face.

“It looks pretty much like an impossibility,” said Bud that afternoon when the three boys met by appointment in his little studio in the Gazette building. “How can we hope to interest people in ouija boards when we can’t truthfully say they’ll do what they’re supposed to do?”

“I guess the ouija board is a fake, all right,” agreed Andy. “Certainly, I wouldn’t want to go on record as claiming that it will actually do mysterious things. Maybe a spirit juggles the little heart-shaped jigger around, but I don’t believe it. If the thing would move without some one touching it, then I’d say its answers amounted to something.”

“You say there are people who actually believe in it?” asked Bud.

“Mrs. Clarke does. Landers sold her one of the ouija boards last fall, and I understand she sits with her fingers on the blamed thing for hours at a time.”

“And it moves for her of its own accord?”

“She says it does.”

“Any one else in town got one?”

“Landers sold three. The other two were bought by kids, just to have fun with at parties, I guess.”

Bud shook his head with a wry smile, then appeared to be lost in thought.

“One thing,” said Andy, “we’ve got to stick to the truth. If we make even the suggestion of a claim that there is something spooky about the ouija board, we’ve got to do it in a joking way. My idea would be to get out a handbill about twelve by sixteen inches with a picture of a magician at the top and then follow with humorous copy outlining the interesting features of the ouija board. For instance, we could have a subhead, ‘If you want to make the girls love you, consult Ouija,’ or, ‘If Ouija says it’s going to rain, carry an umbrella and save your Sunday hat.’ I believe we could work up a lot of stuff that would be real funny.”

“But would it sell the blamed things?” questioned Bud thoughtfully. “I can see where it would make people laugh; but wouldn’t they laugh at us instead of with us? You know that’s one thing you don’t want to do in advertising—get the other fellow laughing at you.”

“What’s your suggestion?” inquired Andy.

“Haven’t any. It looks to me like a hopeless proposition to try and create a demand for an article so absolutely useless as a ouija board. No one needs it. As an ornament it’s nil. You can’t use it without faking, because it doesn’t do the things of its own accord.”

“That’s true,” said Andy. “But the fact remains that we’ve got the ouija boards to sell and we might as well get busy. Make a rough layout of the handbill, Bud, with a real spooky-looking gink at the top gazing at a crystal or something. Then we’ll decide on a heading and work up the copy.”

Bud busied himself with the sketch, plainly enjoying the work.

“How’s that?” he asked after a while, tilting back in his chair.

“Fine,” complimented Andy. “Looks like a real Hindoo magician.”

“What’s he squinting in the manhole for?” inquired Chuck, bending over the drawing board.

“What manhole?” scowled Bud.

“Why, ain’t that round thing a manhole?”

“You poor nut! That’s a crystal. Haven’t you got any imagination?”

Chuck grinned. He was in his glory when he had Bud angry.

“Sure I’ve got imagination,” he returned easily. “And my imagination tells me that as an artist you’d make a second-class plumber. You’d ought to get a job painting railroad bridges.” Then he ducked as Bud made a swat at his nose with a paint brush.

“I’ve got a crackerjack of a title, fellows,” said Andy.

OUIJA LIFTS THE VEIL

“What does ‘Ouija lifts the veil’ mean?” Chuck asked.

“Well, it doesn’t mean a great deal of anything, except that it sounds mysterious and suggests the disclosing of secrets and things like that. It sort of has ‘atmosphere.’”

“I’ve got a better title than that,” grinned Chuck.

WHAT IS HOME WITHOUT A OUIJA BOARD?

“Go bury yourself in a deserted graveyard,” put in Bud. “Andy’s heading is the best.” And he lettered it on the layout beneath the illustration. “Now, how about the copy?”

Andy scribbled the length of several scratchpad sheets, then cried:

“Here’s a good start, fellows.”

OUIJA LIFTS THE VEIL

The secrets of the ages are unfolded before you. Ouija lifts the veil and permits you to explore the borderland of the unknown, the dim mysterious region that lies between mind and matter.

Whatever problem confronts you—social, industrial, religious—consult Ouija.

If you want to know when you are going to be married, ask Ouija.

Ouija will tell you what horse is destined to win the race, what baseball team will carry home the pennant, what makes your apples fall off the trees before they get ripe, and why your neighbor lets his chickens scratch up your garden.

All this Ouija will tell you, and more. If your automobile has a knock in one of the cylinders, Ouija will tell you just where to look for the trouble and thus enable you to save on your garage bills.

Consult Ouija if your jelly won’t “jell.” If your husband has the “lodge” habit, a little advice from Ouija will enable you to keep him at home evenings.

Ouija has an answer for any question that you may care to ask. The truthfulness of the answers is a matter that you can easily determine for yourself. Ask us about Ouija the next time you are in our store.

THE LANDERS GENERAL STORE

“Holy cow!” yelled Chuck when Andy finished reading. “Are you talking all that highbrow stuff about the little heart-shaped jigger?”

Andy grinned and nodded.

“It sounds interesting,” commented Bud.

“Of course,” continued Andy, “a story like this won’t induce a large number of people to come into the store to inquire about ‘Ouija’; but it will arouse interest, and if we display the ouija boards prominently in the middle of the store and try to sell them to the different people who come in, I believe we can get rid of them.”

As Andy had anticipated, the handbill caused a great deal of amusement, but the attitude of the people who came into the store was a keen disappointment to him. No one seemed to take a serious interest in the ouija boards; instead, the people appeared to look upon the proposition as a splendid opportunity to poke fun at the management. Andy’s cheeks burned more than once when he overheard a choice piece of raillery directed at his employer. Customers ordering groceries over the telephone would suggest that he “consult Ouija” to learn if the goods would be delivered in time for dinner. Everywhere he turned he heard “Ouija.” On one occasion he chased Clarence Corey half a block because Clarence had spitefully yelled “Ouija” at him while passing the store.

“I wish the darned ouija boards were at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean,” he growled to Bud, when he dropped into the latter’s studio Thursday evening.

“How many have you sold?” inquired Bud, tilting back in his chair.

“Not a one. And I’ve been kidded about the blamed things until I’m just ready to soak the next fellow who gets funny. This afternoon I met old Hazzel on the street and he just stood and laughed at me. You can imagine how he looked, with his fat cheeks flopping. He’s so tickled over the fizzle I’ve made of this ouija board sale that he’s shouting it all over town. Denny Landers is getting the laugh from one end of Main Street to the other.”

“Well, we’ve learned something, anyway,” said Bud. “We know now how useless it is to try and sell something for which there isn’t a demand or for which a demand can’t be created.”