A Dewar’s Man

Dewar’s Scotch Whisky bills itself as the “drinking man’s whisky.” To most, that probably sounds like simple hyperbolic advertising so commonplace these days.  But consider this example the exception to the rule.

Way back in the Glory Days of drinking – if using the historical accuracy of Mad Men is any indication – Dewar’s contracted with the Chicago-based advertising firm Leo Burnett, U.S.A. in the late 1960s to increase sales of its product.  The ad firm, in turn, created the idea of a series of print ads of Dewar’s Profiles, with each profile depicting a celebrity or other notable personality endorsing the whisky.  The series’ first profile was a young stage actor by the name of Jerry Orbach.

Most people these days know Mr. Orbach from his long-running role as NYPD Detective Lenny Briscoe on the groundbreaking police procedural drama, Law & Order.  Lenny, as he was known to his partners (the best being Chris Noth’s Detective Mike Logan) always managed to get in the best quips and one-liners during the show’s first half hour and showcased the deadpan gallows humor resulting from years of grinding police work.

By contrast to that role, the Dewar’s advertisement – produced in late 1969, decades before L&O – depicts a young 33 year old stage actor and stands as an early signpost of Orbach’s future awesomeness.  (Ironically, the L&O character for which he is most remembered was a recovering alcoholic.)  Looking back on his appearance as the first Dewar’s Profile for White Label Scotch only a few short years before his signature L&O role began, Orbach recalled in a New York Times interview (pictured below), “It made me a Dewar’s drinker.”

Although he was the first (and likely the best) person tapped to promote the whisky “to position Dewar’s among educated and sophisticated young adults,” the ad campaign also reached “into obscure areas to keep it interesting…a bobsled racer, a harpsichord builder and a white-water rafting guide.”

Ultimately, the ad is a great glimpse back at the early days of a great actor, one who enjoyed a fine dram (or at least was paid to say so).  One who is gone but not forgotten: not by me, and certainly not by his hometown, New York City.

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The fine gentlemen over at It’s Just the Booze Dancing recently highlighted Dewar’s new advertising campaign, featuring British actress Claire Forlani as a “a beautiful, alluring and mysterious Scottish woman with the presence of a queen and the mouth of a gangster.”

An accurate description, to be sure, but I’m of another opinion, one a bit more primitive and much more cynical: Dewar’s took note of Johnnie Walker’s successful partnership with Christina Hendricks, and simply followed suit.

Here’s the difference: Hendrick’s Mad Men role – strong-willed woman as equal member in a male-dominated profession – works to sell a liquor to a male audience.  She can easily be pictured as a whisky drinker, as she often does so in her television role. Forlani’s performance, however, feels contrived: she’s appears more a wine drinker, or more likely, a Cosmo girl. And worst, she’s most notable for her roles in Meet Joe Black and Mallrats, both Grade-A stinkers.

Unless Dewar’s was specifically targeting female consumers, they get an A for effort and an F for execution.

“The Media Business: Advertising; 20 Years of Dewar’s Achievers” by Daniel Cuff, New York Times, February 17, 1989

I’m Zozzled, Let’s Blouse!

Let’s take a another trip back to the 1920s and Jazz Age drinking, back to the world of Lois Long, Prohibition, and the cocktail’s infancy – to those early days full of new optimism following World War I.

Recently, Philadelphia’s National Constitution Center opened an exhibit titled, “American Spirits: The Rise and Fall of Prohibition.”  In addition, Edward Rothstein wrote an excellent analysis of the politics and culture surrounding the 18th Amendment’s passage in his New York Times article.  But I want to focus instead on Jen Doll’s recent piece in the The Atlantic Wire.  Ms. Doll “scoured the Internet for a list of twenties-era words and phrases that we need to add to our contemporary conversations.” Her list included the following (mostly) drinking-related terms:

I have to go see a man about a dog. To go buy whiskey.

Let’s blouse. We’re out of here.

Ossified. Drunk, probably from having been on a toot, or a drinking binge. Also: splifficated, fried, blotto.

Phonus balonus. Nonsense. (Related: baloney = piffle).

Upchuck. Vomit, probably after too much foot juice or giggle water. (Synonymous: to pull a Daniel Boone is to vomit.)

Zozzled. Drunk.

Ms. Doll goes so far as to suggest that “if you don’t request extra foot juice [cheap wine] tonight at that dive bar where you order the subpar pinot grigio, you are doing something wrong.”  I, on the other hand, recommend a little self-awareness as to avoid a slap in the mouth (or worse, accusations of hipster-hood and/or douchebaggery) from your local bartender.

Rather, do yourself a favor and limit these words’ usage to your home bar, around those who already know your most obnoxious and annoying habits: like using 1920s slang whilst drinking.  Also, writing the word whilst.

Not the Swedish Chef

As much as the fumbling language, big hair, and overwhelming gesticulations would have you believe, it’s not the Swedish Chef (of Muppets fame) hawking Old Milwaukee beer on Swedish television, it’s Will Farrell.

Hollywood stars hawking products overseas isn’t anything new, but the combination of factors– Farrell’s 1970s-style mustache (straight of out Semi-Pro, a real stinker) and Lonely Island’s “I’m on a Boat”-like setting, sans T-Pain – make these commercials nonsensically hilarious.

According to Esquire (linking from Slate.com), “Ferrell rattles off a few lines in Swedish — translation: ‘This is my boat. This is my woman. And this is my beer. Old Milwaukee. It’s all right.’”

After a bit more research, I learned that Ferrell has also cut several other commercials for Old Milwaukee broadcasted in limited areas only, specifically North Platte, Nebraska, Terre Haute, Indiana, and Devenport, Iowa.  These domestic-market ads are thankfully, no less ridiculous.

MSN.com, on the other hand, apparently doesn’t find the humor of Farrell’s love of cheap American beer: “Ever wonder what celebrities get up to in their spare time? Making cringe-worthy TV ads to be aired in other countries, probably. In fact, we’re wondering if there’s an entire ‘Lost in Translation’-like backstory to this Will Ferrell ad for Old Milwaukee, which was broadcast only in Sweden and shows a sunburned, mustachioed Ferrell jumping around with a can of beer.”

I only have one question: Does Old Milwaukee truly intend to expand sales into Scandinavia, or was this simply a gimmick to increase sales here in the states?  Vi kommer förmodligen aldrig veta.

Barbara Holland’s Wasn’t the Grass Greener?

Author Barbara Holland’s books are frequently referenced here at The Hip Flask. Most importantly, her words were the inspiration for this blog’s inception, which builds in no small part on her philosophy on the importance of drinking and lamenting. Today, I recommend another book by Holland titled, Wasn’t the Grass Greener? Thirty-Three Reasons Why Life Isn’t as Good as It Used to Be.

This book (the latest entry to my Recommended Reading page) takes the form of a list: 33 people, activities, places, and home furnishings that represent a by-gone and sorely missed period of American history. Among these, and most importantly, are those items and ideas concerning drink, which thanks to Ms. Holland’s love of the bottle, are plentiful.

Most notably her book addresses the absence of taverns and liquor cabinets, which are each increasingly difficult to locate. Holland’s initial thoughts on taverns – in her sharp-witted prose – begin with Andy Capp:

“In Andy’s world there are only three scene changes—his pub, his living room, and the street in between. Sometimes he tries to entice a lass at the bar. Sometimes he brings his wife, to swap acid comments with the bartender. Sometime she awaits him at home, in curlers, with a rolling pin. The story line has a mythic simplicity, and endlessly repeated escapes to conviviality and returns to domesticity.”

Andy’s British attitude on booze, passing only between home and tavern, encapsulates perfectly Holland’s desire for America, the relationship a serious drinker should have with his favorite pub, tavern, or bar. And once you arrive at your favored location – if such a place still exists – Holland believes (as I’ve previously argued) that the television is largely responsible for ruining a quiet drink, alone or with friends.

“Television is noisy. It makes casual conversation an effort and confiding in bartenders too loud to be confidential. Even with the sound turned off, television is distracting. Images squirm around on the screen. A row of people at the bar, confronted by television, tend to ignore each other and stare at the set. The whole purpose of the tavern fades: why be here at all?”

If you choose or must drink at home, a well-stocked liquor cabinet is therefore necessary. Yet even this is becoming a vestige of another time, one that doesn’t center on fitness, efficiency, or productivity. A liquor cabinet was once a symbol of hospitality, where conversations began and acquaintances became friends. And it’s not only liquor cabinets that have disappeared in today’s modern houses, but pianos, desks, radiators and porches, even playing cards and other “old things” – whose sole purpose centered on relaxation, socialization, and deliberation.

Although I enjoyed Holland’s extensive reflections on all things alcohol, my favorite passage from this book was found in the chapter titled “Cities,” which provoked a chuckle when considering my family’s recent addition: “New York was where we wanted to live when we were finally grown up, and drink martinis and stay out past bedtime, not where we wanted to take the toddlers for a weekend of family values.” The God’s honest truth to be sure.

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Please visit The Hip Flask’s Recommended Reading page for other books on drinking culture I’ve enjoyed.

Lois Long: Drinking Pioneer

“I shall write about drinking, because it is high time somebody approached this subject in a specific, constructive way.”

This sentence, written roughly 90 years ago, holds special meaning.  These days, there’s not an abundance of what I consider to be specific, constructive writing on the matter of drink.

When I began this blog a few years ago, I wanted to add a little civility to the subject, perhaps some knowledge and context to this pastime called drinking.  So I put my life’s drinking experiences to paper, proffering stories, research, and a touch of humor to a topic often put down as unnecessary, irresponsible, or just downright wasteful.

My modest goals were, unbeknownst to me at the time, somewhat similar to those of Lois Long, a little-known name outside serious literary or Jazz Age American historical circles.  For it was Ms. Long who, during the Dark Ages of American drinking culture – Prohibition – pseudonymously brought the world of drinking to the eyes of her readers in the pages of a then start-up magazine titled The New Yorker.

But it wasn’t simply her writing for which she gained notoriety, it was her lifestyle: hard drinking and hard partying at the hottest clubs and speakeasies 1920s New York City offered.  Long prowled the city’s nightlife looking for a good time; in her words: “Here I go plodding around, in my conscientious, girlish way, to all kinds of places at all hours of the night with escorts only reasonably adept at the art of bar-room fighting, and nothing ever happens to me…”

Although occasionally disappointed at the lack of fisticuffs, Ms. Long quickly developed an epic ability to balance publication requirements with her apparent non-stop boozing.  As British historian Joshua Zeitz writes,* “She wasn’t above sauntering into work at three or four in the morning…dressed to the nines, and flushed from hours of heavy drinking… In hot weather, she’d casually strip down to her slip and clack away at her typewriter.”

Granted, when compared to Ms. Long, I can’t hold a candle to her astounding ability to drink all night and then, without sleep, stumble into the office to bang out an article for publication.  Sure, I pulled my fair share of all-nighters studying and writing in undergrad, but with none of her frequency and vigor, and certainly not after so many hours of cigarettes and gin.

Yet it wasn’t only Long’s production ability that stood legendary in those first years of the Twenties: her idea of what it meant to “holds one’s liquor” was impressive in its own right. “‘If you could make it to the ladies’ room before throwing up,’ she chortled, you were ‘thought to be good at holding your liquor…. It was customary to give two dollars to the cab driver if you threw up in his cab.’”

Lois Long was a modern, professional, hard-partying woman long before those terms found their way into modern lexicon and practice.  She was a woman with sharp prose and boundless energy, even before her attractiveness; someone who’d make a great drinking companion today.  However, her thoughts on Prohibition prove most entertaining, proving that blaming “kids these days” is not a recent invention:

“Prohibition would have never been a necessity, Lipstick [Long’s pseudonym] claimed, had young people ‘learned to drink with aplomb’ rather than excessive debauchery.  ‘The answer,’ she proposed, ‘lies in the nursery and in the classroom… We will teach the young to drink.  There would not be so many embarrassing incidents of young men falling asleep under the nearest potted palm or playing ping-pong with Ming china if little Johnny at the age of six, had been kept in regularly at recess to make up his work because he had failed to manage his pint in Scotch class…’”

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*All quotations from Professor Joshua Zeitz’s book Flapper: A Madcap Story of Sex, Style, Celebrity, and the Women Who Made America Modern. A whirlwind glimpse into the early lives of Zelda Fitzgerald and Coco Chanel, as well as the infancy of a little town called Hollywood.