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Scanlon Mediators in The International Marketplace - U.S. Advertising in Latin America in The Early Twentieth Century
Scanlon Mediators in The International Marketplace - U.S. Advertising in Latin America in The Early Twentieth Century
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Review
in the 1930s, however, would have defined the consumer citizen in glo-
bal terms. Definitions of the good life, and its consumer base, appeared
to have a local rather than a global application. In fact, notions of the
good life contributed to feelings of American cultural, as well as fi-
nancial, superiority on the world stage.2 Behind the scenes, however,
American advertising had already made inroads into the construction
of a global network of consumer culture, laying the foundation for
the "giant menu of choices" globalization purports to promise today.3
The purpose of this essay is to explore the roots of the globalization
process in advertising by examining the international expansion of
one advertising agency, the J. Walter Thompson Company, in the early
twentieth century.4
Coca-Cola chair Roberto C. Goizueta is not far off the mark when
he argues that "people around the world are today connected to each
2 By no means had Americans overcome deep ethnic, racial, and regional differences in
their own self-definitions as consumers, but they had spoken of their purported homogeneity
in referring to themselves. On the internal divisions and definitions, see Daniel Horowitz,
The Morality of Spending: Attitudes Toward the Consumer Society in America, 1875-1940
(Baltimore, 1985); Donald Bogle, Toms, Coons, Mulattoes, Mammies, and Bucks: An Inter-
pretive History ofBlacks in American Films (New York, 1989); Marily Kern-Foxworth, Aunt
Jemima, Uncle Ben, and Rastus: Blacks in Advertising: Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow
(Westport, Conn., 1994); Elizabeth S. Bird, ed., Dressing in Feathers: The Construction of
the American Indian in American Popular Culture (Boulder, Colo., 1996); Jennifer Scanlon,
ed., The Gender and Consumer Culture Reader (New York, 2000); Susan J. Matt, Keeping
Up With the Joneses: Envy in American Consumer Society, 1890-1930 (Philadelphia,
2003). On the ways in which consumption defined the consumer as decidedly American, see
Charles McGovern, who states that consumption was "the distinct heritage and privilege of
living in the United States. Consumption was in effect the national folkways," "Consumption
and Citizenship," p. 48.
3 Richard J. Barnet and John Cavanagh, Global Dreams: Imperial Corporations and the
New World Order (New York, 1994), 22. On the ways in which the state is implicated in
the increasing consumer culture, see Matthew Frye Jacobsen, Barbarian Virtues: The United
States Encounters Foreign Peoples at Home and Abroad (New York, 2000); George Lipsitz,
"Consumer Spending as State Project: Yesterday's Solutions and Today's Problems," in
Strasser et al., Getting and Spending, 127-47. For histories of advertising in the United
States, see Richard Wightman Fox and T. J. Jackson Lears, The Culture of Consumption:
Critical Essays in American History, 1880-1980 (New York, 1983); Stephen R. Fox, The
Mirror Makers: A History ofAmericanAdvertising and Its Creators (NewYork, 1984); Roland
Marchand, Advertising the American Dream: Making Way for Modernity (Berkeley, Calif.,
1985); James D. Norris, Advertising and the Transformation of American Society, 1865-
1920 (New York, 1990); T. J. Jackson Lears, Fables ofAbundance: A Cultural History of
Advertising in America (New York, 1994); Jennifer Scanlon, Inarticulate Longings: The
Ladies'Home Journal, Gender, and the Promises of Consumer Culture (New York, 1995).
4 See also Jeff Merron, writing earlier in these pages, "Putting Foreign Consumers on the
Map: J. Walter Thompson's Struggle With General Motors' International Advertising Ac-
count in the 1920s," Business History Review 73 (Autumn 1999): 465-502. Merron explored
the ways in which J. Walter Thompson used quantitative research methods to secure its
international development and to attract clients beyond General Motors. I complement
Merron's work by situating this development further in the context of globalization. Together
these two articles provide a fairly comprehensive examination of the work that allowed
J. Walter Thompson, through its international endeavors, to become what Merron calls "the
undisputed leader in agency billings" for roughly fifty years (p. 501).
12 See Kevin H. O'Rourke and Jeffrey W. Williamson, Globalization and History (Cam-
bridge, Mass., 1999); Harold James, The End of Globalization: Lessons from the Great De-
pression (Cambridge, Mass., 2002).
13 See Mira Wilkins, The Emergence of Multinational Enterprise: American Business
Abroadfrom the Colonial Era to 1914 (Cambridge, Mass., 1970), and The Maturing ofMulti-
national Enterprise: American Business Abroad from 1914 to 1970 (Cambridge, Mass.,
1974); Geoffrey Jones, The Evolution of International Business: An Introduction (London,
1996); quote from Jones, p. 36.
14 According to Jones (pp. 29-30), the United Kingdom accounted for almost 50 percent
of the world's foreign direct investment in 1914; the United States accounted for an addi-
tional 14 percent.
15 Wilkins, The Emergence of Multinational Enterprise, 191.
exporter, I want the world," may have appeared more affected than
accurate to his peers, but as Matthew Frye Jacobsen explains, the late
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries witnessed a growing consen-
sus about the need to develop external markets to keep the American
economy healthy.16 Jacobsen traces a fascinating connection between
religious and economic missionary work, citing the words of Josiah
Strong: "What is the process of civilizing but the creating of more and
higher wants?"17 Attempts to civilize or colonize through consumerism
found support in government officeholders and bodies as well. Secre-
tary of state "Jingo" Jim Blaine specifically made reference to South
America in his late-nineteenth-century argument for the globalization
of trade:
While the great powers of Europe are steadily enlarging their colo-
nial domination in Asia and Africa, it is the especial province of this
country to improve and expand its trade with the nations of America.
... What we want..,. are the markets of these neighbors of ours that
lie to the south of us. We want the $400,000,000 annually which
to-day go to England, France, Germany and other countries. With
these markets secured new life would be given to our manufactories,
the product of the Western farmer would be in demand, the reasons
for and the inducements to strikers, with all their attendant evils,
would cease.'8
economy. The impact of the First World War on British and European
trade would push the United States to the lead, with its foreign direct
investments almost doubling in the 1920s.20
The process was by no means one sided, however. In his recently
published work on early globalization in Mexico, Yankee Don't Go
Home!, Julio Moreno argues that the combined efforts of the Mexican
and U.S. governments, business leaders, and the Mexican citizenry
ushered in a modern state in which industrial capitalism came to define
democracy. Mexican nationalism served not simply to reject "Yankee
capitalism" but also to embrace and challenge it. This new consumer
democracy, which Moreno identifies as emerging in the aftermath of
the 1910 revolution in Mexico, has parallels in other nations in the
region as well. Moreno demonstrates that the process happened most
effectively in business situations when companies with home offices
in the United States made an effort to understand the differences in
cultures they encountered abroad.21 Advertising agencies like J. Walter
Thompson facilitated the process of cultural communication.
23 Printer's Ink (4 Nov. 1926): 196, quoted in Marchand, Advertising the American
Dream, 31.
24 Ibid., 32.
25 "Here is the Lever, Archimedes," n.d. Box 144, Bruce Barton Papers, Wisconsin State
Historical Society, quoted in Marchand, 31.
and copy that was not only right in appeal but correct in native idiom as
well."26 American trade had grown in those areas, and the company
published its Thompson Blue Book of Advertising in order to encourage
manufacturers to consider either exporting new or established products
or opening manufacturing facilities directly in foreign locations.27 As
one early-twentieth-century advertiser put it succinctly, "All over the
world, people can be educated, and are daily being educated, to want
more and more of the things which their ancestors never even dreamed
of possessing."28
In 1927, the growth of J. Walter Thompson's international organi-
zation was given tremendous impetus when the General Motors Corpo-
ration signed on as a global client. The advertising agency agreed to
open offices wherever GM established a plant; in return it was assured
exclusive representation of General Motors vehicles in those locations.
This mutually beneficial relationship ensured the growth of both auto-
mobile manufacturing and advertising in the 1920s and 1930s, en-
abling American symbols of consumption in everyday life to be carried
to areas further and further removed from New York or Chicago. A 1927
company newsletter claimed that, thanks to the efforts of the two
companies, "the four corners of the earth can tell a Chevrolet from a
Ford."29 In 1927 alone, J. Walter Thompson opened six new European
offices, and American managers moved overseas to organize and ex-
pand operations.30 As the company history relates, "The next four years
saw a continuing expansion of Thompson's overseas coverage. Offices
were opened in South Africa, India, Canada, Australia, Japan, and South
America."31 The company's relationship, first with General Motors and
then with other global manufacturers and service providers, proved
fruitful: J. Walter Thompson experienced rapid growth and encoun-
tered only one small downturn during the Depression; during World
War II, the agency underwent a larger downturn, forcing it to close the
doors on all its European offices. Toward the end of the war, however,
the company again expanded by opening new offices in Latin America,
India, and South Africa, and after the war four of the European offices
KNINi' TH U112
iiijiiiii Iiiiiiii
ODANE UUV T
A 1935 J. Walter Thompson advertisement solicits business for the agency by demonstrating
its global reach. Reproduced by the John W. Hartman Center, Duke University, with permis-
sion of the J. Walter Thompson Company.
Remember that the reason American business has met with such
unprecedented success in export is primarily due to the ability of
33 "How Well Do You Know Your JWT'ers?" 2 Apr. 1951, J. Walter Thompson Company
Archives.
34 "How Well Do You Know Your JWT'ers?" 18 Oct. 1948, J. Walter Thompson Company
Archives.
35 Stanley Resor, "Introduction," News Bulletin, no. 135 (July 1928): 1-2, J. Walter Thomp-
son Company Archives.
36 "A Few Facts About Our Work Abroad," News Bulletin, no. 136 (Nov. 1928): 16-19,
J. Walter Thompson Company Archives.
York office once told me that the foreign offices to many of you were
nothing but romantic pins here and there on a map," argued one expa-
triate at a New York representatives meeting in 1931.54 Another enter-
tained questions at a staff meeting in 1934 and replied stiffly to a query
put by one participant, "No. I don't think there ever were any cannibals
in Patagonia."55 Finally, another of the key members of the Buenos
Aires staff argued that the success of their office was "almost entirely
dependent on our success in dealing with the people there." As a result,
when he made his presentation in New York, he emphasized the rich
culture of Argentina by playing music and displaying photos. "I am not
going to waste our precious time in telling you about the geography.
You can get this for yourself if you want to, by referring to the Encyclo-
paedia Britannica."56 The company proudly stressed its familiarity
with other cultures when publicizing its services to the outside reader as
well. One publication stressed that the offices abroad had close ties to
the home office and the J. Walter Thompson philosophy; at the same
time, these branches had become "not just American companies
abroad, but English, Brazilian, Indian, Mexican, Australian companies
as well, not only because they are incorporated in those countries, but
because of their attitudes and their people."57
Regardless of their lofty ideals and somewhat ambiguous status as
the ambassadors of global capitalism, J. Walter Thompson employees
in Latin America demonstrated an ignorance about their new locations
that belied the openness they professed about life and people outside
the United States. In "What Does South America Offer the American
Advertiser?" William Ricketts reveals some of the basic prejudices.
"One of the great limitations of the Brazilian market," he writes, "is that
the majority of the people are very poor, ignorant, and lazy. The popu-
lation is mainly of Portuguese, Negro, and Indian extraction." Ricketts
concludes, in a sincere but naive fashion, that despite the fact that sla-
very existed in Brazil as late as 1888, "there does not seem to be any
marked prejudice against the Negro."58 Another discussion of Brazil, at
a company meeting, projected an equally complex and prejudiced
stance: "The obstacles to its future development are the climate, the
mixture of negro blood and what is known as the 'sierra.' The sierra is
sufficient but also to be able to repay the initial U.S. investment within two
years.72 Flower became such a believer in the global approach that he sug-
gested at a New York meeting in 1930 that, from then on, the company
should accept only international accounts.73
In part because they saw themselves as already cognizant of cul-
tural differences, and in part because they were uninformed about
larger international issues, advertisers in Argentina were largely unpre-
pared for the obstacles they faced in that setting. As a large, urban city
that looked to, and affiliated itself with, Europe as much as Latin Amer-
ica, Buenos Aires and its significant middle class, the largest in the re-
gion, offered advertisers and manufacturers the greatest promise. The
country actively recruited foreign investors, and the economy remained
strong in the 1920s, although not as strong as it had been during the
country's "Golden Age," which lasted from 1880 to 1910. Although a
majority of residents of Buenos Aires considered themselves European,
unlike many Europeans they expressed interest in, rather than disdain
for, American vehicles.74
At the same time, Argentina offered serious hurdles. For one, the
advertisers who arrived from New York exhibited little understanding
of the history or implications of colonialism in the country or region.
The British had built the railroads and most of the country's infrastruc-
ture in order to facilitate the removal of resources from the interior to
the port and then overseas. As a result, many of the roads were of poor
quality.75 British investment in the region continued unabated in the
first decades of the twentieth century; in fact, Argentina received more
direct investment from Britain between 1904 and 1913 than it had dur-
ing the entire previous century. The Americans were clearly second in
terms of understanding either the local economies and customs or the
new economies and customs that resulted from the Argentine-British
relationship.76 A second problem was corruption, which provided a
business context whose rules were largely unfamiliar to the North
Americans. Finally, the political situation in Argentina, also largely un-
familiar to advertisers and manufacturers from the United States,
proved most confounding. Not recognizing the long history of union
organizing that provided Argentina with the bustling middle class
and vocal working class the advertisers and manufacturers themselves
hoped to capitalize on, they were wary of becoming the targets as well
as the beneficiaries of the country's intricate politics and complicated
social structure.77
Arthur Farlow, co-manager of the Buenos Aires office as early as
1929, gave a lecture on Argentina in the New York office in 1934. "A
couple of months ago Ripley was down there on his way through on a
trip," Farlow began, "and dug out a lot of material for his 'Believe it or
not' series. This will have some of that flavor." He went on to explore
the culture, "what little of it there is," he noted parenthetically. "It is
backward," Farlow argued, "probably for one outstanding reason. Ar-
gentina has never been a country that has been colonized."'' Appar-
ently no one in attendance knew to correct Farlow on Argentina's three
centuries of formal colonization by the Spanish or its less formal, but
no less real, colonization by Britain. The relationship with Britain was
concrete enough to warrant an 18o6 headline in the London Times, an-
nouncing that Argentina had become part of the British Empire.79 In
1914, Argentina represented to percent of Britain's total investment
abroad. The British desire to gain colonial fortunes through exports
contributed to the separation between the interior and the coast, result-
ing in poverty for many citizens in the interior. In John King's analysis,
the history of British-Argentine relations is one that united cerebral
England and corporeal Argentina, linking the "intellect" of Britain and
the "body" of Argentina. This perspective facilitated the kind of impe-
rial relations that U.S. advertisers, regardless of their sense of history,
could enter into and benefit from.so
Argentina is "probably the most unionized country in the world,"
Henry Flower explained to the company representatives in New York at
a 1929 meeting.81 Although the relationship between Argentina and
Britain had resulted in an economic expansion that at best dispensed
rewards unevenly among the social classes, the country boasted a
strong sense of agency among its workers. Flower and his peers demon-
strated their unease when workers launched a strike against General
Motors. GM's refusal to dismiss a group of men who had remained
loyal to the company through a previous walkout brought on a six-month
77 On the relationship between Argentina and Britain, see Alistair Hennessy, "Argentines,
Anglo-Argentines, and Others," in Alistair Hennessy and John King, eds., The Land That
England Lost: Argentina and Britain, A Special Relationship (London, 1992), 9-48.
78 "Meeting in the Lecture Hall," 21 Feb. 1934, staff meetings, 1933-34, 1, J. Walter Thomp-
son Company Archives.
79 John King and Alistair Hennessy, "Introduction," The Land That England Lost, 3.
80 John King, "The Influence of British Culture in Argentina," in The Land That England
Lost, 167.
81 Henry Flower to representatives' meeting, 20 Aug. 1929, 10, J. Walter Thompson Com-
pany Archives.
information: "The moment we have any trouble with Mexico, you hear
more about it in the Argentine than we do here in the U.S. I think our
State Department has been a little too indifferent. They never take the
trouble to see that the proper interpretation is given.""6 In articulating
the themes of U.S. control over information and truth-telling, Flower
revealed himself to be more closely connected with Argentine fears of
U.S. imperialism than he would have liked or even imagined. In a com-
pany report on anti-American sentiment, titled, interestingly enough,
"Analysis of a Sufficient Extensive Time Period to Determine How Long
It Takes a Feeling To Die Out," the Thompson Company examined sev-
eral instances of the complicated relationship between Argentina and
the United States. In 1925, two American employees of Standard Oil,
and their Argentine driver, were murdered. Standard Oil responded to
the crime by posting a reward of several thousand dollars for capture
of the murderers, "dead or alive." As Argentina's penal code punished
such offers as incitements to murder, the company's action was met
with indignation and protest. "It was said that Americans, despising the
country and its institutions, thought they were living in the Far West
and that they could take the law into their own hands, considering
Argentina as a conquered country, etc.," stated the report.87
Argentina's relationship with the United States, and hence U.S.
business representatives, was further strained by the U.S. invasion of
Nicaragua. When President Hoover arrived in Buenos Aires, he was
met, "in spite of the efforts of the Argentine government to give the il-
lustrious guest a nice welcome," with a huge placard reading "Viva San-
dino."88 In fact, U.S. imperialism was widely discussed in Argentina,
where caricatures of Uncle Sam provided images of ugly North-South
relations in the press and popular media. Rather than embodying the
venerable old gentleman of U.S. lore, this sinister Sam exuded only
colonial characteristics:
89 Ibid., 55.
90 On the Pan American Conferences, see Lewis, The History ofArgentina, 27. It was not
until the Seventh Pan American Conference, held in Montevideo in 1933, that the United
States signed the Convention on Rights and Duties of States, Article 8, which stated that "no
state has the right to intervene in the internal or external affairs of another."
91 "Analysis," 98.
the United States and then in London. In the case of J. Walter Thomp-
son, many of the copywriters in the home offices had years of experience
and dozens of success stories. Yet how would they interpret cultures
not their own? How would they entice consumers to consume when the
local politics, culture, and attitudes about the United States were con-
fusing, if not threatening? One question loomed: who should write the
advertising copy, and should it be translated from English to Spanish?
The company outlined the task in 1906: a translator had to be "more
than a man who equitably changes the word currency of one language
into the word currency of another." The effective translator's own cur-
rency was his ability to dismantle one source of cultural communica-
tion and recreate it according to the character of his new audience.92
Advertising Abroad, a trade journal, offered its readers a debate
about whether copy could be successfully imported from the United
States or whether local advertising of global products required local
writing. Jose Fajardo offered the first argument: "The first requirement
of any advertising copywriter, as with a retail salesman, is to know
thoroughly the life and habits of the people he is selling to .... How can
it belong with the readers unless it be prepared by a person who is
one of them-who understands their way of thinking?"93 Fajardo's
examples concern the depiction of women in advertising. In an inter-
esting note, he warned of imposing "liberated" U.S. images on less lib-
erated consumers and cultures:
Fajardo raised class issues as well, pointing out that ads showing
housewives "radiating pleasure" while operating an electric vacuum
cleaner or opening a refrigerator door would not work in Spain, for ex-
ample, where anyone able to afford these appliances would also hire
someone to use them.95 There are a thousand details, argued Fajardo,
of "racial psychology" that it is impossible to understand "except by
rubbing elbows with the people themselves, through living with them
many years, and mastering their language."96 Ironically, Fajardo ar-
gued that "foreign" women, many of whom might presumably be less
sophisticated than their American contemporaries, would be unlikely
to buy the "happy housewife" scenario American advertisers have been
loath to abandon to this day. Fajardo's analysis suggests the compli-
cated nature of class and gender relations among the middle class in
Argentina; definitions of womanhood, intricately linked to definitions
of class, failed to mirror U.S. ideals about domestic chores.
At the core of Fajardo's argument was his disdain for Americans
and their failure to appreciate cultures outside their own. "All great
empires at their highest peaks have suffered from an intoxication of
wealth and power. This present period happens to be America's turn for
the same phenomenon."'97 Fajardo's analysis of white privilege and the
blindness that accompanies it provides a compelling argument for
business people to understand that it is in their interest to be able to
prepare "native" copy.98
Andrew Billings countered Fajardo's claims by reminding readers
of the great attraction and success of things American. Foreign copy, he
pointed out, has a great appeal to consumers. Advertisers quickly
adopted French terminology in cosmetics advertising, and the same
proved true of American signifiers. An American "flavor," then, "may
often help, rather than hinder the sale of goods in foreign lands ...
[H]esitate a bit before eradicating all the Americanism from your copy
appeal, for there, perhaps, may lie its strongest single element."99 Bill-
ings ultimately argued in favor of a hybrid agency, much like the actual
Thompson agencies abroad, which specialized in a comprehensive ap-
proach: supplying researchers who understood local needs and psy-
chology, planners to shape individual campaigns, and, again, "special-
ized translators who are able to put this into the proper vernacular."100
In fact, for all the discussion of "native" input into advertising
geared to foreign audiences, an examination of the realities of the
Buenos Aires office reveals that the pull from New York proved irresist-
ible. A Pond's research report conducted in 1935 concluded with only
one recommendation, "namely that we should use in the Argentine
the same copy you are now using in the U.S. The illustration and the
96 Ibid., 22.
97 Ibid., 24.
98 This analysis also supports Jeff Merron's argument that, in the end, simple under-
standings of class and gender, rather than more complex understandings of regional or cul-
tural norms, dictated advertising content.
99 Fajardo and Billings, "Must Export Copy Go Native?" 7.
100 Ibid., 26.
text translated and adapted to our needs, would be new and interest
aroussing [sic]."'101 The process here is reminiscent of that described
by Roland Marchand in his analysis of customer research conducted by
General Motors in the United States. In an attempt to connect with cus-
tomers and prove that GM could "be big and still human," the company
carried out extensive customer surveys.'02 Marchand's examination of
the company records, however, reveals that the goal was "to contrive
the impression" that GM customers "were individually as well as collec-
tively important." There is little evidence to suggest that customer sug-
gestions became incorporated into company policy. Likewise, there are
few indications that American advertisers found ways to integrate
themselves or their work into the Latin American context. In a note
on Indian advertising, a Thompson employee noted that "there are
350,000o,ooo000 people in India and Burma, but, like the fish in the sea,
you have to reckon their value as customers in terms of the ones you
can catch."'103 By attempting to catch prospective buyers who would be
most apt to make the cultural translation of U.S. advertisements to
the local context, a category in which one could count the European-
defined Argentine middle class, the advertising industry helped define
the global consumer as one at least interested in, if not enamored of,
American cultural images and ideals.
Similar issues arose in connection with the composition of staff. "In
each of the overseas offices," the company argued, "the great majority
of the staff are natives of the country. As a result, the advertising pro-
duced by them speaks the language of the land, the idiom of the local
market, and is conditioned by local customs and traditions."'104 The
idea that the majority of personnel would be "native," however, pro-
vided a simple formula that masked considerations of ethnicity and
social class. Henry Flower spoke at a New York meeting about how he
handled the problem of difference as it arose in Buenos Aires. The
agency hired a copywriter from Chile, whose first language was, of
course, Spanish. Nevertheless, since idiomatic differences existed be-
tween Argentineans and Chileans, all copy this writer produced had to
be supervised by a native Argentinean.'05 Initiating this degree of over-
sight demonstrated a commitment to local sensitivities. At the same
time, the Buenos Aires office provides an interesting profile of what
was considered "native." The employees were described as a cross-
section of the Argentine middle class, but the staff more closely repre-
sented smaller segments of that social class: one of the male employees
came from an elite political family, a second was Austrian, three others
were Argentine, and, four were Anglo-Argentines. Anita Tibaldi, the
first woman and first Argentinean on staff, functioned both as execu-
tive secretary and as cultural translator for the Americans. Another
woman, a copywriter named Countess Franca Paganini de Castano, was
an Italian noblewoman married to an Argentinean. The other female
copywriter, Maria Victoria Candida, joined the Thompson agency after
fleeing her native Paraguay following the war between Paraguay and
Bolivia. She had been a nurse, the only woman in the Paraguayan
armed services.106 This diverse group of individuals bridged the gap be-
tween the U.S. and the Argentine middle class, but they themselves
could hardly be called a cross-section of that social sector. They too
functioned with insider-outsider status in their own city and country.
More often than not, advertisements coming from the Buenos
Aires office mirrored in significant ways those produced in the U.S. of-
fices or the London branch.'07 Jose Fajardo argued that more than 50
percent of ad copy in Spanish-language newspapers, magazines, and
booklets received direct translation and made no sense. Russell Pierce
provides several examples of this in his memoir of life in the Buenos
Aires office. When they translated the "roaring twenties," for example,
into el siglo veinte que gritaba, they arrived at "the twentieth century
that cried out." Cultural translations of ideas could prove equally inef-
fective. When Thompson's Buenos Aires office used an Aztec theme for
a chocolate bar and invited consumers to "Enjoy the royal bar of the
Aztec kings," there was no response. Argentineans would have felt no
cultural connection to Aztec history.1o8
106 The Countess Paganini de Castano became instrumental on two campaigns: Modess
and Scott toilet tissue. Her toilet-tissue campaign exposed perhaps her upper-class or cul-
tural sensibilities, as 50 percent of the intended publications initially refused the ads, consid-
ering them in poor taste. The countess then took on the Modess campaign, deciding, as she
had done with the Scott ads, to translate more or less literally the copy developed in New
York. In this case, her "Diseases You Don't Talk About" campaign proved successful, and in
the end only one publication refused the advertising. See Pierce, Gringo Gaucho, 262.
107 On the London Office of J. Walter Thompson, and its relationship with General Motors,
see West, "From T-Square to T-Plan."
108 Pierce, Gringo Gaucho, 124, 129.
113 Bill Ricketts, representatives' meeting, 27 June 1928: 4, J. Walter Thompson Company
Archives.
Conclusion