Under the Influence with Terry O'Reilly - When You're This Big, They Call you Mister

Episode Date: March 16, 2024

There are some time-honored honorifics in the world of marketing. “Honorifics” are titles like Mr., Mrs., Doctor, Captain or Colonel.  Like Colonel Sanders, Dr. Scholl’s, Mr. Clean and Mrs. Butterworth’s. They’re usually leaders in their category. Is it because those products are the best? Or – is it because those brand names give the products a sense of respect and authority? 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. This is an apostrophe podcast production. Your teeth look whiter than no nose. You're not you when you're hungry. You're a good hand with all teeth. You're under the influence with Terry O'Reilly. I received a letter the other day addressed to Mr. Terry O'Reilly. There was nothing unusual about it,

except I suddenly wondered where that word came from, the word Mr., which was abbreviated to Mr. It's one of those words we see and hear a lot, and their origins are interesting. They're called honorifics. Honorifics are titles that refer to a person in a formal or respectful manner. The word Mr. comes from old 15th century English usage to distinguish the head of a household. For example, the patriarch of a family would be named Mr. Johnson. His sons would be referred to

as Mr. Jed Johnson and Mr. George Johnson. Sometimes the word Mr. was combined with other high titles, like Mr. Prime Minister or Mr. Speaker. But the feminine version of that was rarely Mrs., but rather Madam Prime Minister or Madam Speaker, which brings us to the honorific title of Mrs. The title of Mrs., spelled M-R-S period, was a contraction of the word mistress. It was used historically for both married and unmarried women.

Then in the 1600s, a distinction was made using Mrs. for married women and Miss for single women. Note the abbreviated word MRS period is rarely spelled out in full, and there seems to be no standard spelling, either M-I-S-S-U-S or M-I-S-S-I-S, which leads to the

question, why is there an R in MRS period if it comes from the word Mrs.? Well, that's because both Mrs. and Miss are rooted in the word Mistress, which, back in the day, was a title given to women who had authority, control, or power. Think headmistress of a school. Then, sometime in the 15th century, the word Mistress began to be used in a romantic context to refer to a man's beloved or sweetheart.

Then in the 17th century, the word mistress became problematic. It then referred to a woman who had a, quote, continuing extramarital sexual relationship with a man who provides her with financial support. Interestingly, and not surprisingly, there is no male counterpart word for mistress. A man having an affair is simply called a man. Now we come to the honorific title of Ms., spelled M-S, period.

While we think of it as a term born of the 1970s women's lib movement, it can be traced back to England in the 17th and 18th centuries. Like Mrs. and Miss, it too is a derivation of the word mistress. The earliest known modern revival of the term Ms. was in 1901, when a publication in Massachusetts made the case that a title for a woman shouldn't rely on that woman's domestic situation. It said referring to a single woman as Mrs. was incorrect, and addressing an older married woman as Ms. seemed awkward. So So it suggested the honorific title of Ms. Decades later, in 1969, Gloria Steinem was listening to a radio interview with a feminist

who suggested the title Ms. should be used by women. Steinem, who was preparing to launch a feminist magazine, adopted the word as the publication's title. From that point on, Ms. was widely used. Even in an era of gender-neutral terms, honorifics can still be found to this day to signal gender, marital status, or professional qualifications. There are some time-honored honorifics in the world of marketing, too.

Brand names that were created to give products a sense of respect and authority. Using titles like Mr., Mrs., Doctor, or Colonel, these products have survived the test of time. In most of the stories we'll tell today, they are the brands you probably think of first in their category. Is that because those products are the best, or is it because they have the best names? You're under the influence. names. There is a long history in the world of marketing of naming products with the words Mr. or Mrs. or Captain or Doctor, like Mr. Clean

or Mrs. Butterworth or Captain Morgan or Doc Martens. In the branding process, and especially when naming a product, words are chosen very, very carefully.

The first task is to be distinct and memorable. The second is to infuse the name with a feeling or a sense of authority or expertise. Products with the word Mr. were meant to imply status, authority, and respect. Chocolate bar Mr. Big was 8 inches long, twice the size of other bars. The slogan? When you're this big, they call you mister.

Product names that contain the word Mrs. were often used to conjure up an image of homemade goodness and kitchen wisdom. Think Mrs. Butterworth. Whereas brand names with the word doctor on the label suggest qualified expertise, someone skilled in the healing arts. And most of those names were dreamed up by inventive marketers. Recognize that little ditty? It was written back in 1960. Five years earlier, brothers Bill and James Conway were working for a company called Sweden Freezer in South Philadelphia. It manufactured several products, including ice cream machines. At that time, ice cream trucks were becoming popular,

and people were coming to Sweden Freezer to buy ice cream machines. Then they were bolting them onto trucks. But that became problematic. The ice cream machines would bounce around in the trucks, become damaged, and there was no way to keep the ice cream cool. Seeing this problem, the Conway brothers spotted an opportunity. So they went to their bosses at Sweden Freezer and proposed setting up a separate division

that would build and service ice cream trucks. Their bosses hated the idea. So their brothers quit their day jobs to start an ice cream truck business of their own in Philadelphia. The Conways had the technical knowledge and skills to build functioning ice cream trucks. At first, they began selling

unbranded trucks, manufacturing three a day. Then, they had an epiphany. Instead of just selling trucks, why not figure out a way to get a steady stream of revenue from each sale? So they decided to go into the ice cream truck franchise business. Why not figure out a way to get a steady stream of revenue from each sale?

So they decided to go into the ice cream truck franchise business. At first, they called their business the Dairy Van. Thinking it wasn't catchy enough, they changed the name to Dairy King, but worried it might stir up trouble with Dairy Queen. So they asked for help from a friend in the advertising business. The Conways explained they were selling soft ice cream because it served up faster than hard ice cream. The ad guy came back with Softie, spelled with two E's. But when they put Softie on the truck,

it just didn't seem to have any authority. They considered Captain Softie and General Softie, but nothing grabbed them. Then Bill Conway said, what's wrong with just calling it Mr.? Mr. Softie. The next step was to advertise Mr. Softee.

So they hired the Gray Advertising Agency in Philadelphia and commissioned a jingle. The resulting radio commercial was written by Les Waz, who was one of the top jingle composers of the era. While you may be familiar with the melody, the original Mr. Softee radio commercial had lyrics. Here comes Mr. Softee, the soft ice cream man. The creamiest, creamiest soft ice cream you get from Mr. Softee. Furry fresh and delight to breathe. Look for Mr. Softee. My milkshakes and my sundaes and my cones are such a treat. Listen for my store on wheels jiggling down the street. A couple of years later, the company made a loop of the melody

and played it through loudspeakers from their trucks. It was a turning point. The jingle became a nostalgic summer tradition, tempting families to come running when the Mr. Softee truck rolled into their neighborhoods. At its peak, the company had over 1,600 ice cream trucks on the road. Years later, the company sent a telegram to Les Waas thanking him for the jingle, saying they would still be a tiny three-truck company

if it weren't for that incredible Sonic branding. The company, still in the Conway family today, became one of the biggest distributors of soft ice cream and one of the largest franchisers of ice cream trucks in North America. Today, the fleet still rolls across streets in Canada and the U.S., And the logo on the trucks hasn't changed since 1956. Watch for the Mr. Softee truck. It's a soft ice cream store on wheels. S-O-F-T-E-E-E, Mr. Softee. While some brand names are created by enterprising marketers,

some were inspired by an aquatic military vessel. The submarine sandwich has an interesting history. It appears that an Italian immigrant named Dominic Conti came to America in 1895. In 1924, he started a grocery store in Patterson, New Jersey, where he started selling traditional Italian sandwiches from a recipe he brought with him from his home country. It was a long roll of bread filled with cold cuts and various toppings. One day, he went to a museum in Patterson

where he saw a submarine hull that had been used in the war. He took one look at it and thought, that looks like the sandwich I sell. From that day forward, he called his sandwich the submarine. Soon, people came from miles around to enjoy Dominic's subs. Now, fast forward to 1968. The Yorkville area of downtown Toronto is filled with high-end boutiques and the most expensive condos in the city. But back in the late 1960s, Yorkville was a popular counter-cultural hippie music hangout. Cafes like the Mina Bird and the Riverboat were housed in shabby Victorian row houses

and hosted budding singers like Gordon Lightfoot, Neil Young, and someone named Joni Mitchell. In 1968, a new business opened just a few steps away. Jack Levinson, a phys-ed teacher, and an accounting clerk named Earl Lindzen were looking for a project to make some quick extra money. They scraped together $1,600 and decided to open a sandwich spot, as there wasn't much fast food competition back then. The menu featured long submarine sandwiches. They decided to claim the category by calling their new business Mr. Submarine.

The partners only had a six-month lease and they planned to move on when the lease expired. But to their surprise, Mr. Submarine caught on. There was a lot of traffic pouring into the ground floor location and the public could watch the staff preparing delicious sandwiches in the window next to a sign that said

Giant Submarine Sandwiches. Soon, long-haired, shoeless hippies with the munchies began hanging out on the steps outside, despite another sign that said, Please do not sit on stairway. Over the next four years, the partners would franchise 12 more Mr. Submarine locations. They offered franchisees a money-back guarantee if they didn't make a profit after just one year.

In 1990, Mr. Submarine officially became Mr. Sub, the thing. The tagline was, I love my sub. The 70s and 80s saw big growth for Mr. Sub, expanding to a reported 500 locations. But when the big American subway chain came to town in the 90s, Mr. Sub faced stiff competition. But 60 years later, Mr. Sub is still going with about 260 locations across Canada. And the first franchisee from 1972

is still with the company today. I love, I love my sub. One of the more serious honorifics is the word doctor. In the marketing world, it's usually reserved for a brand named after a founder. Back in 1945, Klaus Martens was a 25-year-old German army doctor. He was recuperating after breaking his ankle in a skiing accident. The standard-issue boots he was given with their hard leather soles were not only uncomfortable, they hindered his recovery. He wondered why you could enjoy a smooth ride in a car with air-filled tires,

but you couldn't enjoy the same principle with boots. So he decided to design a boot with a softer sole. Dr. Martens cut up pieces of an automobile tire and slipped them into his shoes. While it lessened the impact on his ankle, it didn't lessen the pain. He showed his prototype to a friend who was a mechanical engineer, who then suggested using two rubber insoles, one stitched to the leather, the other heat-sealed to the first, creating a soft air pocket. The pair filed a patent and went into business. Using old military supplies and tire rubber,

they began producing comfortable, durable boots. 80% of their sales were to German women over 40. They advertised their boots in magazines, and one ad caught the attention of a shoe manufacturer in England. That company acquired the exclusive rights to manufacture the boot, paying a royalty fee to Dr. Martens and his partner. The first thing the English company did was to make a few modifications to the footwear. The boot was made fatter and rounder,

the sole was made thicker with a grooved, two-toned edge, and a contrasting yellow stitching was introduced. The boots were christened Doc Martens. The target audience? Factory workers and miners. They would have remained utilitarian work boots had it not been for a young musician looking for comfortable clothes to wear on stage. One day in 1967, guitarist Pete Townsend walked into a hardware store to buy a pair of work overalls to wear for an upcoming gig. While there, he spotted a pair of Doc Martens.

He wore them that night and found that the air-cushioned soles let him literally bounce around the stage. On top of that, he liked their aggressive, austere style, which was the opposite of the psychedelic look he was tired of. Thanks to Townsend, Doc Martens caught on as an anti-fashion statement. Next, they were adopted by the skinheads in England

who clashed with police, who were also wearing Doc Martens. Then, in 1975, Elton John wore a 54-inch pair of Doc Martens in the movie version of The Who's rock opera, Tommy. Being associated with The Who, The Clash, and The Sex Pistols gave Doc Martens a sartorial air of rebellion.

By the end of the 70s, Doc Martens were an aggressive symbol of self-expression. Since then, Doc Martens have been worn by everyone from kids and adults to brides and celebrities on the red carpet. And in 2023, Doc Martens hit $1.25 billion in revenue, a milestone in the company's 62-year history. Year History Dr. William Matthias Scholl was born in 1882 in Indiana. His grandfather was a shoemaker

and young William would often borrow his tools to repair the shoes of his 12 siblings. He left the family farm at the age of 16 to take a job with a shoemaker in Chicago. Working there, he realized that people struggled with constant

foot pain. He became fascinated with foot ailments and how to treat them. He took night classes and studied medicine. While still at school, Scholl invented and patented his first arch support. To market and sell his invention, he founded the Dr. Scholl's Company in 1906.

His motto? When your feet hurt, you hurt all over. Dr. Scholl was an incredible marketer. On sales calls to shoe stores, he would pull out a skeleton of a human foot and plunk it on the counter. That got everybody's attention. But then Dr. Scholl would use the foot

to explain its complicated design, with 26 bones, 33 joints, and 100 different muscles and tendons, and how those tiny bones take so much abuse over the course of a day and a lifetime. Then, he would demonstrate how his various inventions lessened foot pain. He also took out advertisements in trade journals. By 1909, he set up a correspondence course to train teams of salespeople, whom he called foot soldiers, to teach them the science behind his innovations. He purchased a large factory and began manufacturing a variety of foot products. He had a profitable consulting service.

Dr. Scholl organized huge sales conventions, created motivational films, and even composed morale-boosting songs for his salespeople to sing. Shoe retailers proudly promoted the fact they carried a complete line

of Dr. Scholl's products and alerted customers when Scholl-trained experts would be on hand for personal consultations. Scholl staged a nationwide Foot Comfort Week. He staged contests

looking for the prettiest feet. He created his now-famous yellow branding, complete with eye-catching store displays. In his lifetime, Dr. Scholl would invent more than 1,000 patented ointments, sprays, cushions, pads, shields, and springs for tender tootsies. And from that, he created an empire in North America and Europe

that included over 400 stores and 6,000 employees. He also started a podiatry college and wrote a textbook. All this time, he never married, lived in a single rented room, and used a common bathroom down the hall, consumed only by his passionate study of feet and toes.

And one more interesting thing. Some believe he was never a certified doctor. In an investigative piece in the Chicago Reader in 1994, a journalist wrote that the American Medical Association, or AMA, found Dr. Scholl's credentials to be, quote, entirely irregular. It said records

of his medical license were hard to find, and that at best, Scholl spent a short time at some low-grade medical schools, including one that was caught in a scandal for granting phony medical degrees in return for cash.

According to the article, the National Association of Chiropracists banned him from advertising in their publication in 1923. The AMA said they wrote to Scholl twice asking for clarification, but he never responded. There is no doubt Dr. Scholl was a marketing pioneer and a dynamo. But surprisingly, very little is written about him in the annals of marketing. It could be professional skepticism. It could be he made too much money. Or it could be because foot doctors back then were often seen as the lowest form of medical practitioners.

Through it all, William Scholl seemed to shrug it all off. He spent his entire life trying to make foot pain a thing of the past. The graduates of the college he founded constitute one-third of the foot doctors in the United States. And his Dr. Scholl brand has a bigger global footprint today than at any other point in the company's history. When Shakespeare asked, What's in a name? He said a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet. In other words, he suggested the naming of things was irrelevant.

But that's not the case in marketing. When companies acquire other companies, they are buying their brand names. When shoppers reach for a product, they usually reach for a familiar brand. Strawberry jam is just jam unless it's Smucker's. Sugared water is just water until it's Pepsi. Brand names have value. And because the task of a brand name is to stand out in the busy marketplace,

bestowing a product with an honorific title is a tried and true strategy. So, a low-interest product like foot powder becomes important when it's Dr. Scholl's foot powder. A simple sandwich shop called Mr. Submarine torpedoed its competitors back in the day. And an ice cream truck called Mr. Submarine torpedoed its competitors back in the day. And an ice cream truck called Mr. Softee makes all other ice cream trucks sound like vanilla imitators. Those honorifics are everyday brand names, but it could be argued that they tap a deep-seated instinct of respect or reverence. We're taught from a young age to respect Mr. Johnson,

to pay attention to your teacher, Mrs. Smith, and to heed the advice of a doctor, even if doctor is in air quotes, when you're under the influence. I'm Terry O'Reilly. This episode was recorded in the Terrastream Airstream Mobile Recording Studio. Producer, Debbie O'Reilly. Sound Engineer, Jeff Devine.

Research, Patrick James Aslan. Under the influence theme by Ari Posner and Ian Lefevre. Tunes provided by APM Music. Follow me on social at Terry O. Influence. This podcast is powered by ACAST. And if you'd like to read next week's fun fact, just go to apostrophepodcasts.ca and follow the prompts. See you next week. Hi, this is Daniel Ostewich from Zarny, Ontario.

Fun fact, Pope John Paul II once ordered 100 pairs of Doc Martens for his Vatican staff, including a pair of size 9s for himself. Holy!