Tag Archives: pointless nostalgia

Baseball

“The Giants Win the Pennant!” Brought to You By Smooth Chesterfield Tobacco!

In honor of the San Francisco Giants earning a trip to the World Series, here’s a pic of an item I spotted at the WFMU Record Fair last weekend:

IMG_20101023_142758.jpg
It’s a limted edition 78 of Russ Hodge’s famous call of Bobby Thompson’s “Shot Heard Around the World”, which propelled the then-New York Giants to a World Series appearance, and also capped a monumental, nigh-Mets-ian collapse by the Brooklyn Dodgers.

The record was a special gift for members of the Chesterfield 3-in-1 Club. Google held few answers about the nature of this club; I assume it was some sort of loyalty/points-type offer (like Camel Cash decades later). I do know that Chesterfield had an enormous ad at the Giants’ home stadium, the Polo Grounds, on the face of the entrances to the clubhouses (which was curiously located in the stadium’s cavernous centerfield). Chesterfield also sponsored their radio broadcasts. Notice that the announcer is referred to as “Chesterfield’s Russ Hodges,” with no mention of the Giants next to his name whatsoever. Also notice he has a Chesterfield firmly clamped in his left hand.

Just six short years after Thompson went deep, the Giants packed up and moved to the left coast, which still seems completely insane to me. People remain angry about the Dodgers moving away and taking their insigina, uniforms, and history with them, but the Giants had an even longer (and more successful) legacy, and yet when they left Harlem, they completely vanished from New York’s baseball consciousness.

None of this will prevent me from rooting for them in the upcoming World Series. What might do so is a disturbing number of Met killers on their roster, like Cody Ross and Pat Burrell. And while I appreciate Brian Wilson’s work against the Phillies, his laughably fake black beard is the worst facial hair in the playoffs since Scott Spiezio’s red chin-snatch. Not to mention that the Giants are Chris “Mad Dog” Russo’s favorite team, and the thought of him being happy sickens me.

The Rangers seem a slightly more likable team on the surface. It would be great if Vlad Guerrero–a player whose insane dominance has already been forgotten–could get a World Series ring. Then again, I consider myself an NL guy, and the Rangers have another Met killer on their bench (albeit one who barely plays, Jorge Cantu). And if Jeff Francoeur smiled his way to a championship, the New York sportswriters corps might spontaneously orgasm with glee.

Truth be told, more than anything else, I’m rooting for a long, enjoyable, well-played series, which we have not had (arguably) since 2002. And I am grateful that this year, I don’t have to choose between the evil of two lessers.

Pointless Nostalgia Video

Pointless Nostalgia Video: BoKu

Commenting on yesterday’s McRib-related post, Brian Dermody had a trenchant observation about the resolute “1991-ness of the 1991” ad. There is something exquisitely early 90s about this commercial. The jittery teal lettering. The man’s Parker Lewis Can’t Lose haircut. His shirt with the Trapper Keeper-esque random geometric shapes. It’s like a heavily moussed time capsule.

Brian also invoked the memory of another ad campaign I had not thought of in quite some time: BoKu, starring Richard Lewis. Thanks to the standup boom of the 80s and a hit sitcom Anything But Love, co-starring Jamie Lee Curtis (well, a sitcom that was on the air, anyway), this was truly the golden age of Richard Lewis.

The neurotic humoredian parlayed his fame into a sweet gig for BoKu, a quixotic attempt to get adults to drink juice boxes. Of course, they didn’t call them juice boxes, and they didn’t have straws, but they were clearly drink boxes to any discerning eye. So who better to emphasize their adulthood than Richard Lewis, that paragon of early 90s grown-up-ness, the living embodiment of the I-don’t-quite-what’s-going-on-itude of this era.

These commercials are prime examples of why I like ads so much: because they perfectly encapsulate the era during which they were made. Ads are not meant to stand the test of time. They’re meant to be consumed, either consciously or subliminally, then discarded.

How could you understand the early 90s, the ennui of the First Bush years, the strange economic nervousness of the post-Black Monday years, the nascent rumblings of grunge, Generation X, and rave culture? An era that, to someone who did not experience it, doesn’t seem to have any characteristics at all? You could read a novel from this time, or watch a film or television show, and you might get a sense of it. Or you could watch this ad and know it in 30 seconds.

See? Now you don’t have to put season one of thirtysomething in your Netflix queue. You’re welcome.

Pointless Nostalgia Video

Pointless Nostalgia Video: Malt Likka

Leapfrogging on last week’s journey into the depths of wine product, The Wife pointed me to an ad she remembered from her youth. In it, Urban Folk are urged to combine their own brand of wine product with grapefruit juice. Take a peek.

Yes, Thunderbird–renowned as the booze of choice for hobos, derelicts, and hopeless alcoholics–mixes well with grapefruit juice. Just pour it straight down the neck of the bottle. You know, just like all normal, non-transient people do. And make sure you shake it up nice and long. That’s not gonna spray everywhere the second you take your thumb out of the opening.

This ad hails from the difficult childhood of Ethnic Ads. Some time in the 70s, companies finally figured out that black people bought stuff and thus merited their own targeted advertising. But since they also didn’t figure black people merited actual jobs at these agencies, you got spots like the weird, quasi-racist one you see above.

Despite being the official sponsor of the DTs, Thunderbird was once considered classy enough to have James Mason for a spokesman. Yes, the star of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Lolita, and Heaven Can Wait, shilling for the booze whose very name screams Hey buddy, got some change? Although if you look at his filmography, it’s not too much of a stretch. Apparently Mr. Mason once guested on several episodes of something called Schlitz Playhouse. Of particular note, their performance of Paint Your Wagon (With Vomit).

All this talk of premium malt beverages reminded me of one of the worst ads I’ve ever seen. This ran in the early-to-mid 90s. It opened on a city street, obviously meant to look “ghetto”. And if that wasn’t a big enough cue, the viewer was also treated to a thugged-out guy sitting in a recliner, in the middle of said street. Next to his chair, a bucket of ice.

THUG: Some people, they take the bull by the horns…

[Cut to footage of rodeo rider. Cut back.]

THUG: But round my way, there’s only one way to grab the bull…

[Reaches into ice bucket, pulls out bottle of Bull Malt Liquor.]

THUG:…by the neck…

[Thug yanks recliner lever so the leg rest pops up. After very long pause:]

THUG: CHILLLLLLLLLLLL….

I couldn’t believe this thing ever aired. It was so racist and almost fear-mongering, I figured it was either written by the KKK or Lee Atwater.

I scoured the Internets for this all last night, to no avail. (I’m pretty sure I have it on a VHS tape somewhere, as I’m almost positive it ran during a late night showing of Mystery Science Theater 3000, but I have neither the time nor the stamina to search for it at this time.) Then I tweeted and facebooked about it, hoping folks might no what I was talking about.

No dice, but tweeter DonCheech did point me to this ad, which was in the same category of racisosity. All this ad for Schlitz Malt Liquor needs is someone shuffling off at the end, croaking “Feets don’t fail me now!”

Of course, the gold standard of malt liquor commercials were the smooth moves laid on by one Mr. Billy Dee Williams when he shilled for Colt 45 in the 80s. I shan’t post any of those ads, but I will show you this clip from the AMAZING Looney Tunes 50th Anniversary Special that ran in 1985. In it, various celebrities spoke of Bugs, Daffy, et al as if they were real actors they’d worked with (Bill Murray’s segments were especially transcendent).

In this clip, Billy Dee is clearly playing off of his Colt 45 ad persona. His little hand gestures and quiet smiles at the cacophonous music of Carl Stalling is a triumph of understatement.