Seagram’s is a Canadian whisky company founded by the oligarchic Bronfman family. Sam Bronfman (Mr. Sam) grew the company into one of the most powerful distilleries in Canada with two early business advantages (Faith, 1) (Proudly). First, Mr. Sam sold his whisky in bottles. Today this seems like a rather mundane detail; however, at the time, most distilleries sold their whisky in bulk, via barrel (Proudly). This allowed dealers to dilute their purchase with water or cheaper liquor. Mr. Sam made this impossible, ensuring the quality of Seagram’s whisky was always consistent. Second, they operated in a prohibition-era gray market (Proudly). Close to the United States, they sold liquor to Americans who crossed the border. It is not known to what extent Mr. Sam participated in the criminal enterprises (Faith, 1-2). Unlike their whisky, Seagram’s response to their negative public image was inconsistent. They flipped strategies, family members both vehemently denied allegations, upholding Seagram’s as a legal enterprise, while also occasionally threatening to murder critics with Mr Sam’s eldest son saying on the matter, “no, I meant it”(Faith, 1). Yet despite their occasionally heavy handedness, Sam Bronfman, weathered their tumultuous public image with a series of ingenious marketing campaigns. He knew how to appeal to not just the thirst of his consumers, but their imaginations and desires. He created a “drink responsibly” campaign and aligned his whisky with a particular demographic of hard-working responsible American men (Proudly). Though today, the public perception around quality whisky is that of sophistication—a drink in the hand of the aged intelligentsia. This was very much not the case in prohibition era America. It was Sam Bronfman who shifted the image of whisky from that of reprehensibility to status symbol with campaigns between 1933 and 1940. The Seagram’s advertisement depicted above, “Traveling Kitchens Deliver Packaged Dinners,” appeared in the June 7th, 1947, edition of the New Yorker. Seagram’s called this campaign, “Men Who Plan Beyond Tomorrow” (Seagram’s). Begun in 1942, like his previous marketing efforts, Mr. Sam sought to create not just an advertisement for his whisky but a cultural landscape for it to exist in. Beginning at the advent of the second world war, “Men Who Plan Beyond Tomorrow” presented a series of consoling utopian visions to their anxious consumer—one in which war time innovation morphed from foreign murder to domestic improvement, the perfect place to enjoy a glass of fine whisky.
To the left of the Seagram’s page was an ad for a new pair of Bausch and Lomb binoculars—now 30% lighter than wartime models (New Yorker, 108). A page to the right was for an automatic razor with its innovative design on full display. It was not immediately apparent to me that Seagram’s was selling whisky (New Yorker, 110). In her essay “The International Origins of “Concerned Photography” Nadya Blair chronicles the emergence of “concerned photography,” an artform that ostensibly evolved out of photojournalism. Photos in this genre are at their core journalistic (Blair, 75-77) . The photographers present their viewer with a candid image and leave the meaning making process up to them (Blair, 75-77). “Men Who Plan Beyond Tomorrow,” gives consumers a similar challenge—here is an image, now imagine the reality around it. They mimic the form, with the invisible gaze of the photographer and somewhat arbitrary snapshot of a scene. However, unlike a piece of “concerned photography” these candids are, paradoxically, constructed. Other candid vistas of this campaign include images with titles such as “Pleasure or Profit from Man-Made Snow!” “The Glider Express speeds Fresh Food anywhere…” and “New wonders of Speech and writing devices” (Sally). Seagram’s whisky is secondary to the scene. Occasionally, it is not present at all. This advertisement caught my eye because they offer—yes a whisky—but more so a place to drink it.
In this advertisement we see what might come in a post war America, where the unbridled technological innovation no longer fuels war, but progress on the homefront. This period marked an incredible era of instability. The entire world order was in flux, the seas that separated the United States from Europe seemed to be shrinking, and a series of economic and political crises shook the public’s confidence (Heinrichs, 3-4). We can imagine how this might appeal to the American man who has been left at home. With anxieties about the shifting global landscape and the uncertainty of the future, Seagram’s presented customers with the ideal outcome of the exertion. Promising, that through planning and hardwork, they might usher in an America that caters to them. In this ad we see a luxurious future in which fresh cooked meals are delivered directly to your house. In others we see things such as cloud seeding aircraft creating snow to powder ski slopes and colored televisions in restaurants for patrons to watch sports games.
Beneath the Seagram’s promise lies a darker desire. Like many other instances of mid century futurism, this depiction not only presents the luxury of a high tech future, but the solidification of existing power structures. “Traveling Kitchens Deliver Packaged Dinners,” shows the consumer how their suburban existence will materialize into the de facto pinnacle of the American world. Michel Foucault presents a more sobering image of innovation in Panopticism (Foucault 94-94). Foucault posits a reality in which technology makes the universal surveillance of individuals a reality (Foucault 94-94). The Seaman’s advertisement circumvents such cynical interpretations of the future, and the manifesting truth of earlier innovation. In this ad, technology does undermine the utopian dream and does not fuel industrial exertions of death, destruction, surveillance. Instead, it affirms the consumer’s position in society and promises a universal furthering of a post war status quo.
Sources:
Faith, Nicholas. The Bronfmans: The Rise and Fall of the House of Seagram. St. Martin’s, 2006.
Edelstein, Sally. “Retro Tech-Men Who Plan Beyond Tomorrow,” Envisioning the american Dream: A visual Remix of the American Dream as pictured in Mid-Century media. https://envisioningtheamericandream.com/2014/01/08/retro-tech-men-who-plan-beyond-tomorrow/. January 8, 2014.
Proudly. E.K. “Men Who Plan Beyond Tomorrow.” Flying Cars and Food Pills. https://www.flyingcarsandfoodpills.com/. November 26, 2019.
Heinrichs, Waldo H. Threshold of War: Franklin D. Roosevelt and American Entry into World War II. Oxford University Press, 1989.
Foucault, Michel. “Michel Foucault: ‘Panopticism.’” A critical and cultural theory reader. 2009. 94 – 101.
Seagram’s. “Men Who Plan Beyond Tomorrow.” New Yorker. June 7th, 1947.
New Yorker. June 7th, 1947.
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