Under the Influence with Terry O'Reilly - S7E03 - Damn The Torpedoes

Episode Date: January 19, 2018

This week, we explore the advertising campaigns that had everything stacked against them and yet went on to become hugely successful. The resistance may have come from clients who hated the idea, focus groups that gave the thumbs-down, apprehension within the agency or even that the initial research declared them failures. But they survived and thrived because someone said...Damn The Torpedoes. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi, it's Terry O'Reilly. As you may know, we've been producing a lot of bonus episodes while under the influences on hiatus. They're called the Beatleology Interviews, where I talk to people who knew the Beatles, work with them, love them, and the authors who write about them. Well, the Beatleology Interviews have become a hit, so we are spinning it out to be a standalone podcast series. You've already heard conversations with people like actors Mark Hamill, Malcolm McDowell, and Beatles confidant Astrid Kershaw. But coming up, I talk to May Pang, who dated John Lennon in the mid-70s. I talk to double fantasy guitarist Earl Slick, Apple Records creative director John Kosh. I'll be talking to Jan Hayworth,

who designed the Sgt. Pepper album cover. Very cool. And I'll talk to singer Dion, who is one of only five people still alive who were on the Sgt. Pepper cover. And two of those people were Beatles. The stories they tell are amazing. So thank you for making this series such a success. And please, do me a favor, follow the Beatleology interviews on your podcast app. You don't even have to be a huge Beatles fan, you just have to love storytelling. Subscribe now and don't miss a single beat. We'll see you next time. new locations. What matters is that you have something there to adapt with you, whether you need a challenge or rest. And Peloton has everything you need, whenever you need it. Find your push. Find your power. Peloton. Visit Peloton at onepeloton.ca. From the Under the Influence digital box set, this episode is from Season 7, 2018. You're not you when you're hungry.

You're a good man with a heart of meat. You're under the influence with Terry O'Reilly. Back in 1980, NBC was in desperate need of a hit. The network only had one show in the top ten, the seventh season of Little House on the Prairie, which was tied for ninth place. NBC president Fred Silverman wanted a new police drama, so 34-year-old writer Stephen Bochco was hired to create one.

The show Bochco created was initially titled Hill Street Station. It was set in an unnamed American inner city. It married comedy and drama. It had a large ensemble cast. Every episode encompassed one day in the life of the precinct, but it had multiple character-driven storylines that sometimes didn't resolve for five or six episodes. It was gritty and hyper-realistic. Most of it was shot using shaky, handheld cameras.

There was overlapping dialogue. It did not look or sound like any other television series ever produced. Which wasn't good news. NBC decided to test the pilot, now retitled Hill Street Blues. Focus group results revealed that viewers found it depressing, violent and confusing. The main characters had flawed personalities, they were never completely successful in their jobs,

and their personal lives were a mess. Audiences found the endings unsatisfying. Even NBC's broadcast standards unit deemed it too violent, too sexy, too grim. It's safe to say no champagne was being popped at NBC headquarters. But Hill Street Blues had one thing going for it. NBC was desperate for a hit. So the network held its breath and aired the series.

At the end of its first season, Hill Street Blues finished 87th out of 96 shows. There was no rational reason for NBC to renew it. Ratings were in the basement. It was an expensive show to produce. Focus group audiences didn't like it. Research said it was a failure. But the show had one group of fans.

Critics loved it. So NBC ignored all the research and renewed it, making Hill Street Blues the lowest-ranked drama in television history to get a second season. But NBC started to notice that high-end advertisers like American Express and top-tier banks were buying commercial time on the show. Even though the audience was small, it was a highly desirable one with big incomes. Then came the Emmy Awards. Hill Street Blues landed an astounding 21 nominations and would go on to win a record eight Emmys.

It didn't take long for audiences to find it after that news. Not only would Hill Street Blues go down in history as one of the greatest television series, it would go on to revolutionize television. And it only survived because NBC ignored all the research and said, damn the torpedoes. Many of the most effective advertising campaigns in history

only survived because someone said said damn the torpedoes. Like Hill Street Blues, everything was stacked against these campaigns. Advertising clients hated the ideas, initial research declared them failures, and focus groups gave them the thumbs down. Yet, these commercials went on to generate more sales than most other campaigns. And one of them even put a certain copywriter on the map. You're under the influence. The first big-time advertising agency I worked for was called Campbell Ewald, circa 1985. It was a Detroit-based agency with an outpost in Toronto. One of its largest clients was Fiberglass Canada,

and it had a product called Fiberglass Pink Home Insulation. The director of marketing, a wonderful man named Grant McDermid, presented the agency with a challenge I've never forgotten. He said, I sell the most boring product in the world. People buy it once in their lives, stick it between the walls, and forget about it. Make me famous. You gotta love that. So, the first thing the ad agency had to do

was figure out a reason why someone would choose to buy fiberglass pink. All insulation was more or less the same. Yes, people could save money if they insulated properly, but that was a category benefit, meaning that any insulation brand could say that. The agency had to figure out a creative way to state the category benefit that would be unique to fiberglass pink. Then, they hit on it.

If people saved money by insulating, what would they do with the money they saved? There it was. Have fun showing what people did with the money they saved by insulating with fiberglass pink. So a TV commercial was written and a director named Joe Settlemyer was hired. Joe specialized in humor and he had a very

distinct style. He only hired non-actors. Joe liked the fact they looked fidgety on camera. That was his secret sauce. The first fiberglass pink commercial featured a couple standing on the front stairs of their modest bungalow, telling the world what they did with the money they saved. We saved enough to buy 252 beautiful pink flamingos.

262, aren't you? I stand corrected. And when the camera pulled back, the couple's front yard was filled with 262 pink flamingos. Then the announcer summed up the campaign idea. What you do with the money you save is your business. Our business is making sure you do save money. Fiberglass pink home insulation. Do it for the money you save.

The commercial hit the air on a Monday. Now, back in the 80s, a director of marketing had a lot of independence. So Grant McDermott approved the commercial without passing it by his bosses. But on Wednesday morning at 9.01 a.m., the ad agency received a phone call from a very unhappy president of Fiberglass Canada. He got right to the point. Get that commercial off the air, he said. It isn't funny, it doesn't reflect the company,

the people in the commercial are bizarre, and I want it pulled immediately. The agency not only scrambled to get it off the air, they feared they had just lost their biggest account. Back then, there was no internet. The media department had to call all the television stations across the country one at a time to yank the commercial. A huge undertaking.

Some of the stations couldn't be reached until Friday, meaning the commercial continued to air in some markets until the end of the week. As it so happened, the president of Fiberglass Canada was a devout churchgoer. At the Sunday service, he was leaving the church when the minister grabbed him by the arm and said, Bob, I saw your new Fiberglass pink commercial. That might be the funniest thing I've ever seen. At 9.01 a.m. Monday morning, the agency got a call from the fiberglass president.

He got right to the point. Leave it on the air. That commercial went on to win awards around the world, all due to divine intervention. And here's the thing. Within five years, fiberglass pink climbed to a market share of nearly 80%. Almost unheard of for any product in any category. That pink flamingo's TV idea and the commercials it paved the way for made fiberglass pink famous. It became the leading insulation product in the country with an amazing 70% market share. 80%. I stand corrected. At that same advertising agency, I was given one of my first radio assignments that would

eventually win me my first national advertising award. I tell this story in my latest book titled This I Know. It was for our client DuPont. The company manufactured hundreds of different products, but this commercial was to be for a pillow, a soft fiber-filled pillow called Qualifil. The advertising briefing sheet prepared by the agency account director told us that DuPont fibers were a super soft breakthrough and they created an incredibly comfortable pillow.

But he warned us not to compare Qualifil to down pillows in the commercial. We were to say this was the finest fiber pillow in the fiber pillow category. He said down pillows were too established. We couldn't win that war. While working on the radio script, we came up with a fun idea that compared Qualifil pillows to down pillows. Of course we did. The theme was, When we presented the idea to our account director,

who wrote the original briefing sheet, he yelled, No, no, no, do not compare Qualifil to down. We won't sell any pillows by doing that. But when we presented the idea to our creative director, he loved it. When the account director told him the idea was wrong, our creative director uttered another line I've never forgotten. He said, I don't care if it's wrong. We're doing it. So, we produced the commercial.

How do you do? I've been asked to represent a certain group who feel they've been rubbed the wrong way. Yes, that's right. I'm talking about the Canadian duck. You see, ducks urgently want you to know that qualofil pillows are just as comfortable as down pillows. Only qualofil pillows are made as comfortable as down pillows. Only qualafil pillows are made of soft air-filled fibers. So not one duck has to

go through life stark naked. And if that pitiful sight doesn't move you to tears, maybe this will. Herman, pluck the duck. Furthermore, qualafil pillows are re-fluffable, which, when it comes to ducks, is easier said than done. Herman, re-fluff that duck.

Plus, a Qualifil pillow is not hard and not soft, but just right. They're also non-allergenic and completely machine-waterable. Whereas ducks are not. Herman, you'd think they'd like water. Anyway, the point is, when you buy a Qualifil pillow, you save a duck. And that's one up on down. Qualifil pillows, certified by the fiber experts at DuPont Canada. As comfortable as down, but downright inexpensive.

Just look for the Qualifil label in fine stores everywhere. The response to that little radio commercial was remarkable. First, we started to hear people talking about it. Next, radio stations called to tell us listeners were phoning the stations and actually requesting the commercial, as if it were a hit song. Then, the Down Association

complained and wrote editorials criticizing the commercial, saying we were appealing to radical consumerism. Feathers were not the reason ducks were farmed. It was the meat. Feathers were just a byproduct.

Of course, that wasn't our intent. The commercial would go on to win the gold trophy as the best radio commercial of the year. The press did stories on it. DuPont offices around the world asked to hear it.

And here's the important part. Sales of Qualifil pillows doubled. There was just something about that kooky little radio commercial that worked. But it would not have survived if it weren't for that moment when my creative director said, I don't care if it's wrong, we're doing it. The same sentiment that saved a quack would also save a bear. We'll be right back to our show. If you're looking for flexible workouts, Peloton's got you covered. Summer runs or playoff season meditations, whatever your vibe,

Peloton has thousands of classes built to push you. We know how life goes. New father, new routines, new locations. What matters is that you have something there to adapt with you, whether you need a challenge or rest. And Peloton has everything you need, whenever you need it. Find your push. Find your power. Peloton. Visit Peloton at onepeloton.ca. If you're enjoying this episode, why not dip into our archives, available wherever you download your pods. Go to terryoreilly.ca for a master episode list.

I've mentioned the following story before, but I want to retell it in this context. The first A&W opened up in Winnipeg in 1956. By 1975, McDonald's was coming on strong, and A&W's cook-to-order method seemed old and dated. The tray on the car, the ordering speaker, and the car hops were instantly obsolete. That's when Ron Woodall entered the picture. Ron was the creative director of J. Walter Thompson

Advertising in Vancouver. A&W told Ron they didn't know what they were going to do in response to McDonald's. They might get out of the restaurant business, Or they might just do bottled root beer. So they asked Ron to come up with a temporary advertising campaign, one that didn't show food or restaurants. They only wanted to maintain awareness while they regrouped. Woodall went away and came back with the idea of a large mascot called the Great Root Bear. As is the case with most big campaigns, A&W put the Root Bear idea into research to see if people would like it.

The A&W Director of Marketing, Olga Billet, loved the idea, and she and Ron were scheduled to present the Root Bear idea to franchisees at a big conference outside of Vancouver. Just minutes before the meeting, the researcher ran in with the research results. The news was bad. The focus groups had hated the root bear. It had gone horribly.

So Olga Billet said the most extraordinary thing. She looked at the researcher and said, you never made it here, so there is no research. Go back to Toronto. With that, the stunned researcher picked up his luggage and went straight back to the airport. Ron took the research document

and threw it in the garbage. Then, they went into the conference room and presented the great root bear to the franchisees. The rest is root bear history. And 40 years later, the root bear and its tuba theme can still be recalled and hummed by people everywhere. But it wouldn't have waddled its way into our collective memories if it hadn't been for the fact the research went missing.

If you were with us back in the age of persuasion days, you may remember a story I told you about a new beer our company helped launch in Portland, Maine. It was a new microbrewery, and the founder, Bill Perna, wanted to market his first beer, called Sparhawk Golden Ale. When we asked him why, in God's name, the world needed yet another beer, his answer was interesting. He said, everything in Portland, Maine is geared to tourists. Everything. But Sparhawk was to be brewed for the people of Maine. It was to be a beer they could call their own. I said, got it. For Maine, not for tourists. The budget was small, so radio was chosen.

But while we were throwing ideas around in the pirate writing room, something occurred to me. How do we advertise the beer on radio without tourists hearing it? Hmm. Here was our solution. We would create a launch commercial introducing the beer and, most importantly, telling Mainers it was made for them, not tourists. Then we did the most unexpected thing.

We would tell Mainers this would be the last time they would hear the words Sparhawk Golden Ale. From that point on, we would talk in code. A code that tourists wouldn't understand. Specifically, a code whistle. So when the people of Maine heard the three-note whistle, it was a secret signal that a new batch of Sparhawk was ready for purchase. Then, we proposed creating a series of fake commercials for typical companies, a car dealership, a jeweler, and a funeral home.

And at the end of those commercials, we would insert our whistle. In other words, those fake commercials were just vessels for our whistle. That was our idea, and we were excited about it. There was a lot of silence on the other end of the phone when we presented it to Bill Perna. Then he said, Let me get this straight. You want to launch my new beer, but never mention the brand name in the commercials.

Exactly, I said. I told Bill he should count on the intelligence of his audience, that Mainers would get it, appreciate it, and they would want to play along. Perna wasn't so sure. He had a friend who worked for beer giant Budweiser. Perna phoned us and asked us to walk this seasoned beer guy through our idea, which we did. The beer guy told Perna to stay the hell away from that idea.

What beer launches without mentioning the brand name in the advertising for Crying Out Loud? But Perna was a gutsy guy. He knew it was a big idea. In spite of all the alarm bells going off in his mind, Bill Perna approved the idea. How do we advertise to you without advertising to them? So we've developed a code noise. When you hear this sound,

it's really us at Sparhawk Brewers. It may sound like a commercial for a product or a new service, but whenever you hear this sound, you'll know it's our secret way of telling you we've just brewed another batch of Sparhawk Golden Ale. This is so great. The best things in life are beer, breed and bottled in Portland, Maine. We put the first few ads on

the air a few weeks before tourist season began. Once the tourists arrived, we switched to the fake commercials with the whistle. It was to be an eight-week campaign. For the first two weeks, Perna got no response. Nothing. Absolute radio silence.

It was his worst nightmare coming true. Then, the funniest thing happened. While filling up the Sparhawk delivery truck one day, the driver heard a whistle coming from behind him. A three-note whistle. When he turned around, it was a guy at another pump giving him the thumbs up. Two days after that,

the campaign exploded. Mainers were talking about Sparhawk. People started ordering it at bars just by whistling. The local newspaper did a full-page story on the launch of the beer with the headline, Bill Perna's Wacky Beer Campaign

Gets the Word Out to Mainers and He Ain't Whistling Dixie. Sparhawk had officially launched, without mentioning its name, for six weeks of an eight-week campaign. That success was all due to an outrageous idea

that flew in the face of traditional beer marketing. Eventually, a bigger brewery came looking to purchase Sparhawk Golden Ale, and Bill Perna whistled all the way to the bank. In case nobody's told you, weight loss goes beyond the old just eat less and move more narrative, and that's where Felix comes in. Felix is redefining weight loss for Canadians with a smarter, more personalized approach to help you crush your health goals this year. Losing weight is about more than diet and exercise.

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with Peloton. Find your push. Find your power. Peloton. Visit Peloton at onepeloton.ca. Back in 1971, the Miller Brewing Company purchased a small local brand called Meister Brow Light. It was really popular in one single town called Anderson, Indiana. An executive from Miller was dispatched to try and figure out why the light beer was so popular in Anderson. As it turns out, the factory workers in that town liked the beer for one simple reason. It didn't make them gassy. It didn't give them that filled-up feeling. When the executive brought that learning back, Miller wondered if Meisterbrau Light could be turned into Miller Light and if it was possible to market a low-calorie beer to men. Research said no.

A study at the time stated that young male sports fans accounted for 20% of beer drinkers but drank 80% of the beer. And those men had zero interest in counting calories. Furthermore, research from the early 70s revealed that men felt a light beer would be a, quote, sissy beer. But the advertising agency was up for the challenge. The one thing they knew was that they could never call it a diet beer. That would be death in marketing to men. So the phrase less filling was chosen instead, and the agency came up with a great slogan.

Everything you always wanted in a beer and less. A few days later, the creative director happened to see a photo of Matt Snell, a 6'3", 230-pound New York Jets player. Snell was a big, rough guy, but he had a great smile. The creative director wondered if big, tough athletes might be the perfect way to advertise a light beer. So he hired Snell to be in the first Miller Lite commercial. You know, a new light beer from Miller

is everything you've always wanted in a beer. And less. Less fill it. Because it has less carbohydrates and one-third less calories than a regular beer. The tagline was nailed by gravel-voiced actor Eddie Barth.

New Lite. Everything you've always wanted in a beer. And less. The tagline was nailed by gravel-voiced actor Eddie Barth. New light. Everything you always wanted in a beer. And less. From that was born one of the most famous beer campaigns of all time. The campaign evolved to feature two retired athletes having a disagreement over whether Miller Lite was less filling or tasted great. Here's a Miller commercial with a retired NBA coach arguing with a retired NBA referee. You know, we've had our few disagreements over the years, but there's one thing we do agree on, and that's light beer from Miller.

Light is one-third less calories than their regular beer. But the best part is that it tastes so great. The best part is it's less filling. No, it tastes great. Less filling. Tastes great. Less filling. Less filling. You know even tastes great. Less filling. Tastes great. Less filling. Less filling.

You know even less about beer than basketball. That's it, Heinsen. You're out of the bar. Light beer from Miller. Everything you always wanted in a beer, and less. Miller Lite would go on to make over 80 commercials, featuring over 40 sports celebs. The campaign was a huge success. Between 1973 and 1978, Miller's sales exploded

from just under 7 million barrels per year to over 31 million barrels, the most dramatic expansion ever recorded by a beer maker in history. But the achievement was made even more remarkable by the fact no one believed light beer could be sold to male sports fans. Not even male sports fans. All available research said it couldn't be done.

Miller Lite revolutionized the beer category, but it wouldn't have succeeded without the idea of tastes great, less filling, which was a direct result of less logic, more magic. Mixed martial arts world champion Georges St-Pierre recently said,

Fear is the beginning of every success I've ever lived. There is a great fear of pure instinct in the advertising business. But it wasn't always that way. The smartest and best advertising people have the gift of instinct. They know before they know why. They love, honor, and obey their gut feelings. There is always enormous resistance to a fresh idea.

In my career, the biggest marketing ideas I've ever had were the toughest sells, bar none. Sometimes that resistance comes from your clients. Sometimes it comes from focus groups. Sometimes from within your own company. And sometimes it comes from research. The truth is, creativity often defies research. It is not a science. It is not math. It is not PowerPoint friendly. But creativity is

a powerful business tool. The most successful people know you always have a choice. You can retreat or you can say damn the torpedoes when you're under the influence. I'm Terry O'Reilly. Under the Influence was recorded in the Airstream Mobile Recording Studio. Producer, Debbie O'Reilly. Sound Engineer, Keith Ullman.

Theme music by Ari Posner and Ian Lefevre. Digital content producer, Sydney O'Reilly. Follow us on Facebook for some fun content. See you next week. This episode brought to you by... Fiberglass Pink. That's one up on down. Um, do you wear clothes when you listen to our show?

If so, have we got a t-shirt for you. Go to terryoreilly.ca slash shop.