I
[_A letter from the Proprietor of the Ginger Cubes to his Advertising
Manager, who is ill in hospital._]
DEAR RUSSELL: When I heard that you had been taken to the hospital with
a badly dislocated sense of proportion and exhaustion of the adjective
secretions, I was worried. The doctor said that you were suffering
from a severe attack of deprecation and under-statement, and I feared
that would mean you would be quite unfit to help me in the forthcoming
campaign for Ginger Cubes. But I hear now that a few weeks of silence
and relaxation will bring you round. I have ordered the _Police
Gazette_ and _The Nation_ to be sent you. Each in its own way is highly
entertaining.
In our last conference, just before you were taken ill, you tried with
your usual energy and bullheaded vitality to persuade me to say a word
about the Ginger Cubes at the Paperhangers Convention. You made a great
deal of the point that this would be a vast gathering, and that it
would be excellent business for me to give them a “message.”
I ask you to meditate this thought: give me a small group of folks
who are more or less interested in the same sort of thing that I am,
and I will “talk my head off.” But speaking to large, miscellaneous
audiences, many of whom are only incubating there to pass away the time
until the theatres open, is my idea of loss of compression.
We have appropriated a fine promotion budget for the Ginger Cubes,
but I am holding up any action until I can argue the situation with
you. About newspaper advertising, for instance--I want your opinion as
to the papers which are read (1) most carefully, (2) by the class of
people to whom the Ginger Cubes are likely to appeal, (3) at the time
of day when their minds (and palates) are receptive--i. e., morning or
evening? For instance, do you think that people will be likely to be
tempted by the Cubes in the morning, just after breakfast? I think not.
I believe that the evening, in that faintness and debility that are
supposed to attack office-workers on their way home (especially in the
subway) is the psychological zero hour for the Ginger Cubes.
Miss Balboa, to whom I am dictating this, says that she never noticed
any sign of weakness or lack of energy in the evening rush on the
subway. I believe it is worth while to get the feminine reaction on
this matter before we make any decisions. One thing I have always
regretted about you as an Advertising Manager is that you are
not married. Wives are often very helpful in these questions of
merchandising strategy. But perhaps you can question some of the nurses
at the hospital and get their reaction.
In regard to these mediums, the question of circulation does not
cut any ice in my cynical and querulous mind. It is not a matter of
circulation, but of penetration, that excites me.
The chemical laboratory reports that the Cubes will positively have a
soothing and tonic effect upon the digestive organs, and that we are
justified in saying so. Unfortunately they say that the Cubes cannot
possibly be of any value in combating “pyorrhea,” so we cannot go
riding on the other folks’ toothpaste copy. For your amusement, I have
thought up this slogan:
+---------------------+
| WHY NOT INVEST IN |
| A NEW INTESTINE? |
| |
| TRY GINGER CUBES |
+---------------------+
Which is probably too startling. But anyhow, when we have decided, I
wish our copy to be Cumulative, Concise, and Continuous. Then, ho for
the Ginger Cubes!
Yours,
NICHOLAS RIBSTONE,
President The Ginger Cubes Corporation.