From Modernism to Shirt-Sleevism
Advertisements of the Thirties, by Steven Heller. Excerpt from the book 'All-American Ads of the 30s', edited by Jim Heimann
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But there was a downside to the success of Calkins' approach. In the early thirties American industry was actually producing too many goods to sustain high levels of repeat consumption. Moreover, the mammoth stock market crash of 1929 had, to say the least, put a huge crimp into mass buying power. By 1933 Calkins' style engineering reached its point of diminished return. Overzealous advertising and product manufacturing during the earlier bull market did not directly cause this catastrophic economic downslide - triggering America's Great Depression - but it was symptomatic of what N.W. Ayer's Harry Batten describes as economic overconfidence, "a sort of gambling fever [that] spread into every level of society." By the mid-1930s, still stinging from the Depression, advertisers and advertising had adopted what was called shirt-sleeve advertising, which fills much of this volume.
As the rising tide of the Depression washed away all the impressive economic gains of the postwar boom years, Calkins' agency and the scores of other big New York "shops" had to give clients what they wanted: sales. Certain "modernisms" were retained in post-Depression advertising, but the vast majority of advertisements returned to hard-sell techniques, including celebrity testimonials (for cigarettes), multi-image pictorials (for cars), sentimental landscapes (for travel), and well-stocked, glistening refrigerators (for food and drink). The most progressive art in the world was not going to sell detergent, toothpaste, deodorant, vegetable oil, or light bulbs. Subtlety was out, irony was barely a consideration, and comedy - unless in the form of easy-tocomprehend comics - was useless if the goods stayed on the shelves.
Calkins charged copywriter-artist/art director teams with the job of making creatively balanced advertisements and campaigns, but in the wake of the Depression shrill displays of screaming headlines and purple testimonials replaced any artistic nuances. Before the age of television, print advertising in newspapers, magazines, and on billboards (and radio, of course) was the most effective way of directly tempting the consumer. But advertising could not afford the luxury of the subtle tease. Ads had to make bold claims followed by stark promises, ending with memorable taglines. For example, an ad for Jantzen swimwear (p. 482), illustrated by the master of softcore allure, George Petty, promised women they'd have gorgeous men while promising men the prize of similarly endowed women if only they bought the product. The suggestive headline "Perfectly suited by Jantzen" further demonstrates that someone with a flair for clever phraseology was involved in the campaign.
Page 1 2 3 4 5 6
Page 1 2 3 4 5 6
But there was a downside to the success of Calkins' approach. In the early thirties American industry was actually producing too many goods to sustain high levels of repeat consumption. Moreover, the mammoth stock market crash of 1929 had, to say the least, put a huge crimp into mass buying power. By 1933 Calkins' style engineering reached its point of diminished return. Overzealous advertising and product manufacturing during the earlier bull market did not directly cause this catastrophic economic downslide - triggering America's Great Depression - but it was symptomatic of what N.W. Ayer's Harry Batten describes as economic overconfidence, "a sort of gambling fever [that] spread into every level of society." By the mid-1930s, still stinging from the Depression, advertisers and advertising had adopted what was called shirt-sleeve advertising, which fills much of this volume.
As the rising tide of the Depression washed away all the impressive economic gains of the postwar boom years, Calkins' agency and the scores of other big New York "shops" had to give clients what they wanted: sales. Certain "modernisms" were retained in post-Depression advertising, but the vast majority of advertisements returned to hard-sell techniques, including celebrity testimonials (for cigarettes), multi-image pictorials (for cars), sentimental landscapes (for travel), and well-stocked, glistening refrigerators (for food and drink). The most progressive art in the world was not going to sell detergent, toothpaste, deodorant, vegetable oil, or light bulbs. Subtlety was out, irony was barely a consideration, and comedy - unless in the form of easy-tocomprehend comics - was useless if the goods stayed on the shelves.
Calkins charged copywriter-artist/art director teams with the job of making creatively balanced advertisements and campaigns, but in the wake of the Depression shrill displays of screaming headlines and purple testimonials replaced any artistic nuances. Before the age of television, print advertising in newspapers, magazines, and on billboards (and radio, of course) was the most effective way of directly tempting the consumer. But advertising could not afford the luxury of the subtle tease. Ads had to make bold claims followed by stark promises, ending with memorable taglines. For example, an ad for Jantzen swimwear (p. 482), illustrated by the master of softcore allure, George Petty, promised women they'd have gorgeous men while promising men the prize of similarly endowed women if only they bought the product. The suggestive headline "Perfectly suited by Jantzen" further demonstrates that someone with a flair for clever phraseology was involved in the campaign.
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