Stars in the early years of American television had no qualms about putting in a good word for the folks who paid their bills every week.

America was the first country to use sponsor-funded programming as its model for both radio and television. In the early days of radio, one single company (through its advertising agency) would pay for the production every week, and the sponsor’s products would be pitched to the audience. That workable blueprint was used for television, and continued to be the norm for over a decade.

During the golden days of U.S. radio, you could link the star to the sponsor: Jack Benny for Jello; Fred Allen for Ipana toothpaste; Edgar Bergen and his “dummies” Charlie McCarthy and Mortimer Snerd for Chase & Sanborn coffee. When American television geared up for an all-out push after World War II, there was no need to change what was working.

Viewers of what was called television’s “Golden Age” were well-aware that Milton Berle helped sell gasoline. (Not surprisingly, his NBC variety show was called “The Texaco Star Theater.”) George Burns and Gracie Allen’s fans knew that dairy company Carnation sponsored their television show; major companies such as Westinghouse, General Electric and U.S. Steel sponsored high-brow dramatic anthologies to burnish their images as thoughtful, enlightened corporations; and soap makers such as Colgate-Palmolive, Lever Brothers (now Unilever) and Proctor & Gamble invested in daytime dramas (soap operas) and game shows. Kelloggs cereals were pitched by the human stars of “The Adventures of Superman,” and animated characters that included Huckleberry Hound, Yogi Bear and Woody Woodpecker. Rival General Mills countered with the now-classic “Rocky & Bullwinkle;” General Foods’ Post cereals were pitched by such stars as Danny Thomas and Andy Griffith.
Yes, the stars (and sometimes the cast) did the pitch.

It was not unusual to have announcer Harry Von Zell come into the middle of the action on “Burns & Allen,” and ever-so-subtly put in a good word for the economy and versatility of Carnation Evaporated Milk. On “The Pepsi-Cola Playhouse,” actress Polly Bergen would sing the soft drink maker’s jingle: “Pepsi-Cola’s up to date/With modern folks who watch their weight/We made it light/light for you/Refreshes without filling too!” And Dinah Shore would urge her viewers to “See the U.S.A. in your Chevrolet,” telling them how the “ride is sweeter” in a new Bel Air hardtop with Chevy’s powerful small-block V-8 (mated to a two-speed Powerglide automatic transmission, both at extra cost). Even into the 1960's, it was not unusual to see Andy Griffith (as Sheriff Andy Taylor) discuss the “outstanding” taste of Sanka coffee or how Post Grape Nuts “fills you up, not out.” On “The Dick Van Dyke Show,” cast members would do similar spots for their sponsors, as did the leads on “The Beverly Hillbillies.” The cast of “My Three Sons” usually had a minute-long family crisis surrounding sponsor Hunts Catsup. When Lucille Ball returned to television on “The Lucy Show” in 1962, she did not shill for the sponsor; co-star Vivian Vance and the actors who played their children made extra money promoting Jell-O pudding and Swan dishwashing liquid.

Other examples of star spots included Groucho Marx hawking the “delightful, de-lovely DeSoto” automobiles on his quiz show “You Bet Your Life,” (see side bar at bottom of page); Ozzie & Harriet Nelson promoting Hotpoint appliances on their self-titled sitcom (helped along by the corporate pixie named Happy Hotpoint; she was played by a then-teenaged Mary Tyler Moore); and a future politician named Ronald Reagan who shilled for General Electric and U.S. Borax on “General Electric Theater” and “Death Valley Days” respectively.

More than any other personality of the period, it was Arthur Godfrey who proved to be the most effective salesman–on both television and radio. Godfrey had no major talents to speak of; his CBS shows (“Arthur Godfrey’s Talent Scouts” and “Arthur Godfrey And His Friends”) were basically Godfrey as host introducing new acts (on “Talent Scouts”) or featuring a “family” of performers (“Friends”). What set Godfrey apart was his “barefoot voice”–one perfectly suited for broadcasting. Listeners loved it. They also loved when Godfrey threw out the commercial script and began ad-libbing about the product’s attributes. In another person’s hand it would have been a disaster. Godfrey pulled it off with aplomb; especially for his best-known sponsor, Lipton Tea:

“Aw, who wrote this stuff? Everybody knows Lipton’s is the best tea you can buy. So why get fancy about it? Getcha some Lipton’s, hot the pot with plain hot water for a few minutes, then put fresh hot water on the tea and let it just sit there.”

CBS Chairman Bill Paley reportedly hated Godfrey, but couldn’t deny the millions of dollars his shows were generating for the network. Unfortunately the success went to Godfrey’s head; his behind-the-scenes arrogance with staff and talent came to a public head in October 1953, when he fired the increasingly popular singer Julius La Rosa from his morning radio show. La Rosa committed the sin of obtaining his own agent and challenging Godfrey’s strict policies. Godfrey later claimed La Rosa “lacked humility” but the public felt it was Godfrey who was acting petty because La Rosa was gaining his own following. Within two years, Godfrey’s two TV shows fell out of the top ten; by 1959 he was confined for the most part to radio, where he remained until his retirement in 1972. He died more than a decade later, virtually unknown to a new generation of television viewers.

There was plenty of self-censorship and orders by advertisers to the producers, writers and stars of the shows they paid for. A line in one series mentioning New York’s Chrysler Building was removed because the show was sponsored by a rival automaker; a child could not refuse to eat cereal for breakfast because the show was sponsored by a major cereal maker; Mars forbade writers to mention ice cream, cake and other sweet treats that seemingly competed with its candy bars; and the producers who adapted the Rudyard Kipling play “The Light That Failed” had to change the title to “The Gathering Light” because the show’s electric company sponsor forbid any light to fail! Other examples included writer Reginald Rose’s story “Thunder On Sycamore Street,” which dealt with a black family moving into an all-white neighborhood. The sponsor, fearful of repercussions from white viewers, forced Rose to make the new neighbor an ex-convict. In 1959, CBS’ “Playhouse 90" aired the play “Judgement At Nuremberg,” but a line referring to the execution of Jews during World War II in “gas ovens” was bleeped out in the live performance. The deletion was made at the request of the anthology series’ sponsor, the American Gas Association. (The AGA defended the move by pointing out that the Nazis used cyanide gas to execute the Jews during World War II, not natural gas.)

Even “I Love Lucy” was subject to censorship. When Lucy became pregnant in 1952, it was decided that Lucy Ricardo would have a baby on the show at the same time Lucille Ball would have her real-life child. But CBS and the show’s sponsor of the time (Philip Morris cigarettes) did not allow the word “pregnant” to be said on the show. “Expectant,” or “having a baby” was acceptable, but “pregnant” was apparently too risque for an audience that was making and delivering babies at record rates.

Speaking of “I Love Lucy,” as noted, the nation’s most popular show was sponsored by a cigarette maker (Philip Morris). Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz did many of the commercials; in one spot, Lucy told the audience, “You see how easy it is to keep your husband happy? Why not get him a carton of Philip Morris cigarettes?” Lucy and Desi weren’t the only ones shilling for smokes during the 1950's and 60's. Jack Benny and the cast of “Your Hit Parade” extolled the virtues of Lucky Strikes (“So round, so firm, so fully packed...so free and easy on the draw”); Joey Bishop and the cast of “The Dick Van Dyke Show” did spots for Newport and Kent cigarettes respectively; the “Beverly Hillbillies” cast also promoted Winston (the show’s alternate sponsor with Kellogg’s Corn Flakes). Jack Webb smoked Chesterfields for his “Dragnet” sponsor; and both “Topper” and “You’ll Never Get Rich/The Phil Silvers Show” were sponsored by Camel with the respective stars doing the sales pitch.

Would you believe that a cartoon show was sponsored by a tobacco maker? True. When “The Flintstones” premiered in 1960, ABC promoted the stone-age family as an “adult” cartoon. So the network found grown-up sponsors in Miles Laboratories (who made One-A-Day vitamins and Alka-Seltzer) and R.J.Reynolds Tobacco–the makers of Winston. Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble not only pitched vitamins and antacid, they sold the public on filter smoking.

An infamous commercial during the show’s first season showed Fred & Barney hiding from Wilma and Betty (who wanted to help with the housework). The pair decide to have a “Winston Break” behind the house, but are caught by the wives before Fred delivers the slogan “Winston tastes good like a cigarette should.” You can find the now-infamous commercial reproduced on the left or in various video collections or on the Internet (a larger sized screen than on Teletronic) at YouTube.com.

Unfortunately, the days of one advertiser for every show became so expensive, only the largest companies could afford the format. In the early 1950's, NBC’s innovative president Pat Weaver launched the so-called “magazine” sponsorship, where several different firms bought time on a single show. In return, the network picked up the costs of the show and the stars. The format was a tremendous success; by 1960, most television shows had multiple sponsors.

These days, there has been a lot of talk about “product placement,” especially on the reality shows. The designers on “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition” are seen every week buying products at Sears, the shows major sponsor. “The Apprentice” has featured competitions with products such as Crest toothpaste and The Home Depot. Even scripted shows have gotten into the act; a first-season episode of “Desperate Housewives” featured one of the “housewives” getting a job showing the Buick LaCrosse sedan at a shopping mall. Subtle messages? You decide. But it was nice to know that once upon a time, you knew when the commercial pitch ended and the television entertainment began. And if there were stars in the eyes of the actors who also put in a good word for their sponsor, it was a small price to pay for a little of your time.