Finkbuilt caught this lovely 50s-era beer ad that . . . somehow . . . seems oddly contemporary. That is, if you overlook the screaming whiteness of everybody in the picture . . . and the silly French moustachios, jaunty old-world concertina action, multiple cravats, and lederhosen. And the squirrel.
What’s really great, as Finkbuilt points out, is that they printed the sheet music for the beer jingle right in the ad - so you could whip out your concertina, play a little tune, and sing along. I don’t know what strikes me more: how cool it is that they assumed everyone reading this ad at that time could follow the tune, or how dorky it is that they assumed anyone would.
But everythizzle old is newizzle again. They could run this ad today without changizziling a whizzle. They’d have to melanizzle it just a bit, but, shizznit!: “Have your own Schlitznic with friends, Schlitzsnacks and Schlitz”? Fo’ shizzle!
Judd
Kevin
Kevin T. Keith
leanleft
tgirsch
The best part is, I’d wager, that Snoop Dog himself would happily read this very ad, on air, for Conan O’Brien, free of charge.
That’s priceless.
For what it’s worth, my recently-departed grandfather used to work for the Schlitz brewery, until Stroh’s bought them and moved them out of Milwaukee.
Schlitz in the 70s is a textbook case of advertising gone bad. Anyone old enough to recall the awful “take away my gusto ads” was witness to one of the most destructive ad campaigns in the history of Madison Ave.
For a moment, I thought you were calling the weiner dog a squirrel, and I was about to be pissed. Then I saw the squirrel.
You can crack on concertinas and French mustaches, Tgirsch, but don’t be dissin’ on the dawg.
Actually, Rob, I did none of those things. That was KTK. But thanks for caring!