Andy Rooney_ 60 Years of Wisdom and Wit - Andy Rooney [104]
Years ago, some of Godfrey’s associates suggested that he avoid mentioning the luxurious swimming pool on his Virginia estate or his $200,000 airplane equipped with a cocktail lounge, television, beds, lounge chairs, and wing-to-wing carpeting. On instinct, he ignored the advice and spoke of both constantly, with the pride of a boy with a new bike. He was right, as usual. While the swimming pool or the private airplane might be luxuries beyond the reach of his viewers, the
Arthur Godfrey in front of camera for CBS’s Talent Scouts
feeling he conveyed of unembarrassed delight in his possessions was understandable.
Within the highly regimented broadcasting industry, Godfrey is famous for his independence. Most television shows are prepared by network officials, producers, writers, directors, independent packagers, advertising agencies or various combinations of these. They are prepared for a performer. The performer is told how things are going to be. No one tells Godfrey anything, and if anyone does, he doesn’t listen. For example, every network has a censor who checks scripts for policy, taste, and conflicts of interest. In thirty years of broadcasting, Godfrey has yet to give network officials any indication of what he is going to do or say on air. No censor passes on anything of his.
*** Broadcasting is a business dedicated to attracting and selling to the largest possible audience. Godfrey’s answer to any complaint broadcasting executives have ever made is: “Am I selling the stuff?”
In the very beginning of his career as a broadcaster in Washington, D.C., Godfrey took a daring chance. He started treating the commercial copy of several sponsors in a lighthearted way. The story he tells most often is the one about Zlotnick, the furrier: He read some of Zlotnick’s commercials with the heavy Russian-Jewish accent of the store owner. The next day, several friends asked Zlotnick why he let Godfrey make fun of his accent on the air.
As Godfrey tells it, Zlotnick looked at his friends and said, “Heccent? Vot heccent?”
The next day, Godfrey not only made fun of Zlotnick’s accent again, but told that story. Who could be mad? Not Zlotnick. His fur store, along with his accent, was becoming the best known in Washington. And Arthur Godfrey was on his way to becoming the biggest name in broadcasting.
Godfrey has a way of touching sore spots, and his relations with both CBS and several of his sponsors have often been less than friendly. If they put up with his “go to hell” attitude, it is only because he makes money for anyone connected with him.
To these two industries—television and advertising—Godfrey is a pain in the neck, to put it the nicest way I know how. He takes no nonsense from either one of them.
In ten years, more than one hundred sponsors have paid something like $125 million for Godfrey to sell their products, and he has done it with unparalleled success. He learns something about a product, convinces himself that is a good one, and sets out to convince others. His proud boast is that he has never sold a product he did not personally have faith in. Although this is literally true, it must be said in honesty that he also has an unequaled ability to convince himself of almost anything he wants to believe. So when he goes on the air and says he thinks a product is good, he isn’t doing it with tongue in cheek. He believes what he says.
This part of Arthur’s commercial approach delights his sponsors; it is the second part of his pitch that angers them. The second step is to make his audience believe as he believes. To accomplish this, he allies himself with the listeners against the sponsor. He gains their confidence by pointing out some obvious absurdity or exaggeration in advertising claims. He may complain for instance about the package the product comes in. Or he will