LIFE: August 22, 1938.
A weblog detailing cocktails, spirits, liqueurs, barware, bars, and bitters. Maintained by Michael Dietsch, a writer and hobbyist mixer in Brooklyn.
From the August 8, 1938, issue of LIFE magazine, this ode to the mint julep:
LICKETY SPLICKETY ZOOMBAH
[Still not large enough for you? Click!!]
A couple of years ago, I talked to Robert Klara, a writer for Adweek.com, about old bourbon advertising, and the shifting perceptions of bourbon over the generations. I enjoyed our telephone conversation, and I appreciated that Klara made me look smart in the subsequent article. I’ve followed his work on and off since then, and so when I saw AdWeek’s insightful and intelligent look at the subtle history of gay themes in advertising, I was unsurprised to see that Mr. Klara had written it.
Klara describes how, in much of the advertising from the middle of the previous century, gay themes are subtext; they’re closeted, if you will, obvious to a gay consumer, but easy to overlook by straight ones — and, more to the point, by straight executives at the brands in question.
“It’s all in the eye of the beholder,” says Bruce H. Joffe, professor of communications at Mary Baldwin College in Staunton, Va., and author of A Hint of Homosexuality?: “Gay” and Homoerotic Imagery in American Print Advertising. “A straight person who looked at these ads in Time or Life magazines would just turn the page and not think anything, but someone with a gay sensitivity would say, ‘Oh my God, look at that!’”
Here’s an example, not mentioned in the Adweek.com article, but culled from own collection of booze ads. This is for Hiram Walker ran in the June 27, 1938, issue of LIFE:
The fellow in the blue smoking jacket and ascot seems to be taking in the view, yes?
Now for something a little different. If you know anything about the history of American whiskey, you probably know that for about four decades, from the Forties through the Eighties, it went through a dark period in which the most popular brands were blended whiskeys. It’s not unfair to say that most of these blends tasted like whiskey-flavored vodka because that, in essence, is what they were — mainly grain alcohol with a small amount of straight whiskey added for flavor.
The American palate wanted a smooth, unchallenging spirit, and that’s what the blends provided.
But the trend toward blends started with Prohibition, when some of the only whiskeys available were blends imported illegally from Canada and Scotland. Marketers of straight bourbons and ryes tried to regain a foothold post-Repeal, but the Second World War put the kibosh on that, as most distilleries were repurposed for making grain alcohol for the war effort.
Today’s ads feature two straights and two blends, and it’s interesting to look at how they’re marketed. But enough talk.
[LIFE; April 18, 1938]
Yes, this is the entirety of the ad. I love its simple elegance. You wanna see it in context of its original page? Sure you do.
I wouldn’t normally return to a subject this soon, but this ad is funny. I’m amused by the idea that the wifey would be embarrassed by a husband who can’t mix a cocktail to save his own damn life. (I don’t have a larger size than this, but go look at it on the Google Books site, and you can blow it up as big as you please.)
Here’s a list of their bottled cocktail range:
Damon Runyan, newspaperman, author. Covered baseball for many years, and entered the writers wing of the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1967. Wikipedia lists 20 of his stories that became motion pictures; the most famous of these is probably Guys and Dolls.
My favorite lyric from the title song of that film, incidentally, is found in only certain recordings, such as at 1:24 in the Bobby Darin rendition:
When you see a mouse
Hurry, scurry out of the house
And she runs 20 blocks for cigars and rye
Oddly, Runyan’s Wikipedia entry indicates that he quit drinking altogether by 1920, some 18 years before this ad ran. I wonder what the truth of it is.
[LIFE; March 21, 1938]