by
Walter Brasch
“Branding! We
have to make you a brand!”
“I’m not
cattle,” I told my sometimes faux foil assistant Marshbaum, who had just burst
into my office. “And if you think I’m getting a tattoo,” I replied, “my body
isn’t a canvas.”
“It’s sure wide
enough,” Marshbaum flippantly replied. Before I could throw sheets of wadded up
paper at him, he explained what he meant. “It’s not a fire-iron brand,” he
explained. “It’s strategic marketing.”
“I’m a
journalist,” I reminded Marshbaum, “I don’t do that kind of thing.”
“You will if
you want to stay in business.”
“I’ve been in
this business four decades, and I’ve never been branded.”
“That’s why we
need you to do TV commercials,” he said.
“I’m a print journalist,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, well,
not all of us are pretty enough for TV, but you still have to do a commercial!
Just like Jennifer Anniston.”
“As if she
needs more money,” I sneered. “She’s got a net worth of something between $100
million and $150 million, depending upon which magazine you believe.”
“You can never
have enough,” said Marshbaum.
“Yeah, that and
her eight-figure salary for commercials that tell 45-year-old women they can
dab junk on their faces and look like ingĂ©nues. She’s hawking hair products,
beer, and some fragrance Besides, she’s taking money from low-income
hard-working actors who do need the bucks.”
“You said that
before. And before. And before.”
“It’s the
truth,” I said. “A-list actors have branched into TV commercials. Selling
everything from eyelash liners to prescription drugs to—”
“Yeah, yeah, like
that sorrowful Blythe Danner who’s got some kind of problem that keeps her on
stage to break a leg.”
“Exactly!” I
replied. “It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. The rich actors don’t need
more money.”
“But they do
need exposure. TV and film aren’t enough. The red carpet isn’t enough. Being
mentioned in the National Enquirer
isn’t enough. They want it all, and to get it all, they need to be a brand.
Corporate America loves it!”
“There’s a lot
that corporate America loves that just doesn’t matter to the rest of us.”
“But it does matter. When you see Larry the
Cable Guy, you think of bad heartburn. When Brooke Shields appears on the
screen, you still think of her wearing Calvin Klein jeans with no underwear. And
then you run out to your nearest box store and buy whatever they’re selling.
Think you’ll do that if you see a commercial with some no-name talent?”
“Some people,”
I said, “already think I may be a no-name talent.”
“And that’s why
we need to brand you. Tie you to some product. It’d raise your profile, make
you a brand, and make money for all of us.”
“All of us?”
“You don’t
think I’d be doing all this for free, do you?! I have expenses. Besides, we’d
have to pay for makeup, better clothes, a publicist, marketing manager, and a
business manager. Then there’s your entourage. TV commercial talent has to have
an entourage. That doesn’t come cheap.”
“It comes a lot
cheaper if I don’t do it at all.”
“What?! And be
responsible for even more unemployment? A whole industry needs you to brand
yourself. You get exposure and money. And that will lead to more commercials.
And more commercials lead to better recognition. And the advertisers will be
ecstatic!”
“Will it get me
more readers?”
“Don’t be
ridiculous. If you get branded, you won’t need readers. You’ll live off your
residuals from commercials.”
“But I’m a journalist,” I again reminded him. “I
write stories that give people information they need. Stories that affect
people’s lives.”
“TV commercials
affect people’s lives. Where would America be if Ellen DeGeneres didn’t promote
JCPenny’s or Michael Jordan wasn’t shilling Jockey underwear? Think you’d buy a
Lincoln if millionaire Matthew
McConaughey wasn’t telling you to do it?”
“If I do this—and I probably won’t—what
would I be selling? Cars? Watches?”
“Toilet paper.
It goes with your brand. A whole gaggle of conservative readers already say
your column is full of—”
“—great insight
and sparkling language.”
“Yeah. Sure. Something
like that.”
“Look,
Marshbaum,” I said a bit testy, “I don’t need to be a brand. I do need to write my column for this
week.”
“I think you
just did,” he said smugly.
[Dr. Brasch’s latest book is Fracking Pennsylvania, an in-depth look
at the economic, political, health, and environmental effects of high-volume horizontal
fracturing. Rosemary R. Brasch, who never once did a TV commercial when she was
an actress, assisted on this column.]