Tuesday, April 14, 2020

#90 Eric Sloane Marketing Cartoon Art


Issue #90 – Tuesday, April 14, 2020


How Young Artist Eric Sloane Marketed
A Fun and Funky Work of Cartoon Art
Details from Eric Sloane's Extraordinary Metal Lithograph

Imagine Starting a Small Business in Your Garage.
How Do You Reach Your Prospects and Customers?
Eric Sloane (1905-1985)—born in New York City to a well-to-do family—decided to become an artist at a very young age. Over his long career, Sloane created more than 15,000 paintings and 38 books.

Sloane’s Signature Opus
If you’ve ever been to the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum in Washington, D.C., Eric Sloane’s massive mural is one of the first things you see.

Sloane’s Formative Years
Obviously a young start-up artist does not land a major commission from one of the great museums of the world.  
     Sloane got there the hard way—by creating art and figuring out how to sell it.
     Eric Sloane’s first mentor was his neighbor, Fredrick Gaudy (1865-1947), legendary designer of Gaudy Type. Gaudy taught boy Eric how to hand paint letters and numbers and how to create signs.

Operating in the Epicenter of Earliest Aviation
Pioneers, Pilots, Parts Makers and Manufacturers
In the 1930s, Sloane had built an amazing client base with a niche business—painting the giant numbers, letters, signs and logos that served as identifying markings on the wings, fuselages and tails on the hundreds of private and commercial planes bought and built by aviation pioneers whose base of operations was Roosevelt Field and nine other airfields on Eastern Long Island, in New York City and Northern New Jersey.

Sloane Became a Celebrity Hound
One of his early clients was world-famous aviation pioneer Wiley Post, the first pilot to fly solo around the world in 1933.
     As a “thank you” for a painting of his single-engine Lockheed Vega “Winnie Mae,” Post taught the young sign painter to fly.
     (BTW, Post crashed and was instantly killed together with Ziegfeld Follies comic star and rope-trick wizard, Will Rogers, on my birthday—August 15, 1935.)
     In short order Sloane was hooked on the romance and adventure of flying and fell in love with aircraft, the sky and clouds which became his favorite subjects throughout his life.
     In the course of his work, he built a vast personal database of Long Island’s pioneer men and women pilots, aircraft mechanics, plane builders, corporate manufacturers, parts makers and sellers, hangers-on and playboys. He sold his first cloud painting to Amelia Earhart.

Sloane’s Unique Metal Lithograph

Every Person You Ever Met May Be Your Prospect
Sloane marketed this very early work of art by using the same commonsense wizardry the propelled Bill Clinton into the presidency.
     Quite simply—like Clinton—he had kept the name, address and phone number of everyone he ever met, constantly updating it and adding to it. When Clinton ran for president, he contacted everyone on his list going back to his boyhood.
     Ditto for Eric Sloane when it came to marketing his tin map. In 1936-7, he most likely went on a personal sales campaign to alert hundreds of his aviation customers and acquaintances throughout Eastern Long Island, New York City and New Jersey. His spectacular offer: a lithograph “socked into metal” with your name included and surrounded by all the greats—Charles Lindbergh, James Doolittle, Wiley Post, Amelia Earhart, Jacqueline Cochran, Howard Hughes, Howard Hawks and dozens more!

The Kicker

Here is Sloan’s signature panel with the dedication to our great family friend, Miles Vernon, wealthy Wall Street Broker, and owner of a 1933 WACO fighter-bomber biplane kept at the Aviation Country Club in Hicksville, Long Island.

In the Art World: A Remarque
Three decades ago Peggy and I went to Kenya. At one of the lodges we met a gifted young wildlife artist, Peter Blackwell, who was the resident guide and naturalist. He invited us to his cabin to look over his work and we settled on a pair limited edition renderings of guineafowl for not very much money. I offered to pay him a bonus if he would do remarques—little sketches in the margin. As I recall, he said nobody ever asked him to do this. But for what might have been an extra $25, he was delighted.

Suddenly these fine lithographs 329/350 were no longer multiples, but rather multiple originals—an individual work of art three little pen-and-ink guineafowl in the right margin of a work signed by the artist. In terms of value—both monetary and personal—they were ipso facto worth more than a plain-Jane signed and numbered lithograph.

Sloane’s Amazing Personalization
Miles Vernon’s name appears twice in the map—in the signature bloc above (which is the equivalent of a remarque) and in the Aviation Country Club map (See Illustration #1 above between “HICKSVILLE” and “WHITNEY.”)
     How many actual names of people and businesses did Sloane etch into his tin lithograph. Dunno. Never tried to count them. But certainly hundreds.
     It is a kind of Where’s Waldo? of early American aviation.
     What’s more, Sloane must have sold a ton of these maps.

Concerned what would happen to this splendid memorial to these pioneers after Peggy and I assumed room temperature, I started contacting relevant institutions that might be willing to take it as a gift for their collection. All said thanks but no thanks. “We already have one,” was the reply.
      Mercifully we found a taker: The American Philosophical Society here in Philly just across Independence park from our building. Founded in 1743 by Benjamin Franklin, APS has one of the world’s greatest collections of old maps, rare books and incunabula (books printed before 1501). It also has fat endowment, so our little Eric Sloane map has a safe permanent home.

Eric Sloane Working at the Air & Space Museum

Takeaways to Consider
• Like Bill Clinton, put together your private database of everybody you meet. You never know when you’ll need someone from your past or present.

• For example, if you ever decide to write a memoir or a book, your personal address collection is your private "house list"—your most obvious customers. And if they like what you've written, they well tell their friends, family and business colleagues.

• One of America’s greatest newspaper publishers was Warren G. Harding (sic!). Yes, that Harding—the second most corrupt crook ever to occupy the White House. He is remembered for the notorious Teapot Dome scandal. As a young man, Harding bought out of bankruptcy the Marion, Ohio Star newspaper and turned into the leading paper in the area (which it is today) using an amazingly simple 11-word business model:
“Mention the name of everybody in town twice a year.”

• The 7 key copy drivers in marketing—the emotional hot buttons that make people act—are: Fear – Greed – Guilt – Anger - Exclusivity – Salvation – Flattery

• About this list, Seattle marketing guru wrote: “If your copy is not dripping with one or more of these emotional hot buttons, tear it up and start over.”

• In marketing his tin lithograph, Eric Sloane pandered to Exclusivity, Flattery and possibly Greed. (Hey, thing might be worth something someday…”)

• Get to know your customers—as many as possible—personally.

• If you know some of your customers—intimately—you’ll know where to find the mother lodes of logical prospects and how to turn them into customers.

• Direct marketing entrepreneur Axel Andersson once analyzed 872 American direct mail letters in different business categories and discovered 43 percent were based on flattery.

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End of Marketing Lesson.
Here's a BONUS.
What follows is a reminiscence of growing up on Long Island, the epicenter of early American aviation.

You might find it fun; or maybe a crashing bore. But here ‘tis.

The Lure of Flight

My father, Alden Hatch (1898-1975) age 12, in the
pilot seat of a Glenn Curtiss Golden Flyer, c. 1911.

The Plague That Hit the Hatch Family
In the very early years of the 20th century, my grandparents rented a house on Long Island with a resident cow. “Fresh milk for the boys!” they boasted. Alas, this was before the widespread use of Pasteurization. My father was fed raw milk and he developed tuberculosis of the bone. The result: two dozen operations, a shriveled left leg and crutches for his entire life.
     Because of his delicate heath, he was home schooled. One of his favorite outings was hanging out at the workshop and grass landing field of the great aviation pioneer Glenn Curtiss in Hempstead, Long Island. The engineers and mechanics loved him!
     My father remembered hearing about the Wright brothers’ first flight in 1903 and lived to see men walk on the moon. All his life he loved everything about aeroplanes, aerospace and flying.
     Many years later my father wrote a fine biography of Glenn Curtiss.

Somerleas
I grew up in Somerleas, my grandparents’ house in Cedarhurst, Long Island. Built in the 1920s, it was two miles from what became main touchdown point of JFK Airport (née Idlewild). When jets came in for landings and were 1500’ overhead, the noise was so loud as to be painful. Eighty times an hour conversations came to a sudden halt until the damn plane flew over.
    My first novel was a light-hearted story about a guy who couldn’t stand the noise around Kennedy Airport, so he sent a World War II barrage balloon into the main landing pattern.
     It was optioned by Hollywood six times; I have three screenplays including one by Academy Award winner, Ring Lardner, Jr. (M*A*S*H and Woman of the Year) who was paid $75,000. It was slated to the be next directorial project for John G. Avildsen following his Academy Award for directing the mega-hit Rocky
     Alas, Lardner (1915-2000), a communist and one of the blacklisted “Hollywood 10” turned my marshmallow fluff novel into an angry protest screed ending with Army paratroopers threatening to bayonet little girls in their bare breasts. The shooting script was so gawdawful Paramount scrapped the project.

My father adored Somerleas. “I can leave “my house and be any place in Washington, D.C. in two hours!” he would say with glee.
     From my earliest boyhood I remember he would periodically proclaim “Someday man will hold the sun it its stride at the equator!” I have searched the world for that quote and can’t find it. But the prediction came true.
     One of my regrets in life was not having the loot to buy my father and stepmother a trip to London or Paris on the Concorde SST. They would have loved it!
     One of my father’s great regrets in life was not driving over to Roosevelt Field on May 20, 1927 to see Charles Lindbergh take off for Paris. He knew about the flight and was awake early that morning. But it was raining and overcast. He figured Lindbergh’s team would postpone the flight, so he rolled over and went back to sleep.

Miles Vernon
Miles Vernon was one of my father’s oldest friends—a reclusive bachelor-type guy who lived in New York on Park Avenue. Miles adored fast and noisy personal transportation. He would roar up for lunch at the house, incongruously accompanied by his two little ancient aunts—who always dressed in black. His transportation was a beloved hotrod—a wildly souped-up 1940 maroon Mercury with a top speed of 120 mph. Finally it became too much for the old aunts and in 1950 Miles sold it to my step-father and bought a roomy sedan.


Miles was a lovely guy, rail thin and a heavy smoker. Since my father was on crutches and incapable of typical father-son stuff—and since Miles had no children of his own—he would occasionally contact me and take on a father role.
     For example, Somerleas bordered the second fairway of the America’s oldest golf club, the Rockaway Hunt. One day when I was in my early teens, Miles proclaimed that since I lived next to a golf course, I should try golf. He took me over to the pro shop where an abandoned canvas bag of wooden clubs was found. A caddy was engaged and off we went.
     At the second hole I realized my eyesight was so terrible (20/400) I would hit a ball and had no idea where the thing went. Every ball was a lost ball. For me, golf was preposterous. I manfully went along for nine of the 18 holes, whereupon we went back to the clubhouse and had lunch. I never again set foot on a golf course.

The Aviation Country Club
Miles was also a member of the Aviation Country Club, founded in 1929 in Hicksville, Long Island. Described as the swankiest private airfield in the country, the Aviation Country Club had 175 rich members that included Charles Lindbergh, who taught his bride, Anne Morrow Lindbergh, to fly off the great grass landing lawn surrounded by endless fields of potatoes. There was no control tower, no concrete runway. Just grass. All flying was under VFR (Visual Flight Rules). 
     The facilities included a swimming pool, a tennis court, a club house with four bedrooms a couple of large hangers with two mechanics on duty seven days a week. It was routine for them to overhaul the engines of the members’ planes after every 75 hours of flying. It was all very civilized.
     Incidentally, Miles Vernon was a world-class pilot who knew one helluva lot about aircraft. During WWII, as a major in Army Air Corps, he was in charge of maintenance at the massive Wright-Patterson air base in Dayton Ohio.

The Ercoupe Ride
In 1947 I broke my leg in a wrestling match and was in a cast for weeks. Miles came by for lunch and, surprisingly, was moved by my condition. “I’m going to take Denny flying!” he said to my mother and father.
     Vernon flew an outrageous 1933 Waco biplane with an open cockpit and a huge, deafening radial engine. The fuselage was black and the wings were bright yellow.
     My mother was scared of planes and flat-out refused to let Miles take me up in his Waco. So he chartered a neat little Ercoupe and took me for my first flight.
The Ercoupe—with side-by-side seating—had no foot pedals. All maneuvers were entirely controlled by the two little steering wheels. So when we reached cruising altitude, Miles invited me to take over the controls. Since it had no foot pedals I could fly it while wearing a full cast on my right leg.
    It was thrilling!
    My mother was hoping I would hate flying, but as we were landing I waved at my parents. My mother was not happy.
    

The Love of Miles Vernon’s Life



Vernon took me up in his Waco just once in 1948. Wearing a parachute, I sat in the rear seat. We were covered by a sliding Plexiglas canopy. Headphones muted the roar of the engine and made talking to one another possible.
     Compared to the flight deck of a WWII bomber or a modern jetliner the controls and instrumentation were primitive. Below is the front cockpit of the Waco.



We flew over Levittown, the great postwar WWII housing development that enabled returning GIs to buy a fully-equipped home for $10,000 with just $100 down.
     Below me were hundreds of houses in all stages of construction—from cleared fields and holes in the ground to finished and landscaped homes. It was my first awareness of the magnificence of American business innovation. Levittown gobbled up vast amounts of land including the Aviation Country Club, which disappeared in the early 50s, swallowed up by Levittown.
      
About the WACO S3HD
To fill in the blanks of this post, I Googled “WACO” and up popped the 2014 issue of the magazine above and Budd Davisson’s long story devoted to this airplane. I started reading:
If Waco Aircraft Company is remembered for nothing else, it should be for its unbelievable perseverance. Beginning just before the crash of ’29 put the country on its knees, this little company just kept on keepin’ on. The world of the Waco during that period was one in which imagination, creativity, and dogged determination saw it develop, certify, and produce new models as if they were cookies. It figured that inventive, new products would always catch at least a few customers that wanted (and could afford) the newest and the greatest, so it were continually developing new models that it thought would satisfy yet another marketing niche. And that’s where the S3HD came from: the niche was the military, and that’s what guided the appearance of the S3HD. The aircraft was envisioned as a multiuse military flying machine that would be both a trainer and an armed ground support bird. So, it was equipped to drop small bombs and carry one or two wing-mounted Browning .30-caliber machine guns. It also had provisions for a machine gunner in the back seat. The rear part of the canopy would slide forward out of the way. The only customers for the design turned out to be South and Central American air forces, including Brazil, Nicaragua, Guatemala, and Cuba—all of which were in the process of creating air forces.

The Paragraph That Stopped Me Cold
A dozen aircraft were built and delivered, but the first one was built for a private customer, sportsman pilot Miles H. Vernon, who took delivery in 1934. His address was listed as 1 Wall St., New York, but little is known about him or his flight time in that airplane. It is indicative of his position that he had the financial capability to approach the factory for a “special” airplane, the S3HD being the result. This was the heart of the Depression and the aircraft had to have been expensive, so apparently he was well above the financial chaos that was gripping the rest of the country. The “D” spent its infancy and postwar years at the Long Island Aviation Country Club in Hicksville, Long Island, New York.

     OMG! The plane on the cover of the magazine was Miles Vernon’s Waco of my childhood!

From Bud Davisson’s cover story in Vintage Airplane:
There is something magnetic about a biplane fighter, or any biplane that has a military vibe. Anyone with a feeling for vintage aircraft simply can’t walk by them on the flight- line without visually studying their lines on the way past. Take the Waco ZPF-6 type. The only difference between them and the other Waco open biplanes is the sliding bird-cage canopy. These airplanes were never intended for the military, but their canopy gives them “that” look. So when John Ricciotti, who had become an antique aircraft owner only days earlier, pulled into the front row in the antique area at Oshkosh ’13 in the rarest of the rare, a Waco S3HD, a lot of heads snapped around. Not only did Waco originally envision this sliding-canopy bird as being a gun-toting, honest-to-goodness military airplane, it’s the sole survivor of the breed. 

Over the years, Miles Vernon's Waco S3HD has been worked over with love by a succession of owners to the point where John Ricciotti now has restored it to absolute perfection.

Mr. & Mrs. John Ricciotti, current
Owners of Miles Vernon’s Waco S3HD

Memories of the Aviation Country Club
A 1946 Photograph. Parked at Right 
Is Miles Vernon's Waco SDH3 

Every year the club put on a big air show and manufacturers would fly in with their newest models in hopes some sales to the wealthy membership would result.



     I remember attending an air show with sumptuous buffet lunch there in 1949. Adirondack chairs and tables with checkered cloths were set out in front of the clubhouse and hanger where ladies and gentlemen could view the action. According to John Fleischman in the February 1999 issue of Smithsonian’s Air & Space:

And in nearly 20 years of flight operations, the club never had a serious accident resulting in injury—not even at the annual air show. Instead of death-defying stunts and hell-for-leather pylon races, manufacturers used the show to put on dignified exhibitions of their latest products. The Flying Committee’s 1939 invitation to manufacturers made the tone of the event clear. ‘Each demonstrator will be asked to demonstrate his ship in the air for approximately five or six minutes. The Committee will permit no stunting, excessive pull-offs and climbs or unorthodox maneuvering, the demonstration being purely to show off the ship’s best qualities.... It is important that each demonstrator realize that he is not in competition and also that no sales approaches be made.’

Yeah, They Had an Accident
     I witnessed one of the rare accidents. An elegant gentleman, Rear Admiral Luis de Florez, USN (Ret), who had done pioneering work in aviation fuels and lubricants as well as flight simulators, was intrigued with a little, single-seat hottie with bright red fuselage and retractable tricycle landing gear. 
Captain Luis de Florez, USN

The manufacturer, anxious for a testimonial from the world-renowned de Florez, invited him to take it aloft for a spin. It was an uneventful flight that ended with a perfect three-point landing in front of the large gallery of spectators that represented a Who’s Who of private aviation.
     However there was one slight glitch: de Florez forgot to lower the landing gear. The landing was so perfect that the only damage to the plane was a broken propeller. De Florez walked away with a damaged ego and a very red face.
     In 1962, de Florez was found dead in the cockpit of his plane while waiting to take off at a Conn. airport. He was in his early 80s. Not a bad way go.
Bill Odom
At the 1949 Aviation Country Club air show, Bill Odom was pointed out to me. He had just received massive publicity for flying a little Beech 35 Bonanza 5,273 miles from Hawaii to the Teterboro Airport in N.J., establishing the light plane record for such a flight. An interesting aside: Odom spent less than $75 for fuel and oil. Two years earlier, Odom and T. Carroll “Tex” Sallee set a new round-the-world record in a Douglas A-26 Invader. The following month in Cleveland, September 5, 1949, Odom took off in a modified P-51 Mustang to compete in the Thompson Trophy Race. Minutes after take-off at the third pylon, Odom’s plane rolled over on its back and crashed into a house, killing himself along with a woman and baby in the house. This was his first year of participating in closed-course air races.
    
     “There are two kinds of pilots,” Miles Vernon used to say. “Good pilots and dead pilots.”



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Word count: 3743

You Are Invited to Meet Denny Hatch

At age 15, Denny Hatch—as a lowly apprentice—wrote his first news release for a Connecticut summer theater. To his astonishment it ran verbatim in The Middletown Press. He was instantly hooked on writing. After a two-year stint in the U.S. Army (1958-60), Denny had nine jobs in his first 12 years in business. He was fired from five of them and went on to save two businesses and start three others. One of his businesses—WHO’S MAILING WHAT! newsletter and archive service founded in 1984—revolutionized the science of how to measure the success of competitors’ direct mail. In the past 55 years he has been a book club director, magazine publisher, advertising copywriter/designer, editor, journalist and marketing consultant. He is the author of four published novels and seven books on business and marketing.

CONTACT 

Denny Hatch
dennyhatch@yahoo.com

A Note About Denny Hatch’s Marketing Books
When North American Publishing summarily shut down its little book publishing division, all my direct marketing and business books were suddenly gone from the market. Some were available as “collector’s items” at many hundreds—and in some cases thousands!—of dollars. I have made arrangements with a Canadian marketer to republish some of these as Special Reports or White Papers. Will let you know when they are available. Thank you for your patience.

About Denny Hatch’s Novels
Meanwhile two titles are available. They are:
THE FINGERED CITY
How Mafia Marketed a Candidate
To Become Mayor of New York City

THE STORK
A Comedy About Breeding People 
 Kindle Edition: $2.99

Note to Readers:  
May I send you an alert when each new blog is posted? If so, kindly give me the okay by sending your First Name, Last Name and e-mail to dennyhatch@yahoo.com. I guarantee your personal information will not be shared with anyone at any time for any reason. The blog is a free service. No cost. No risk. No obligation. Cancel any time. I look forward to being in touch!


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Invitation to Marketers and Direct Marketers: 
Guest Blog Posts Are Welcome. 
If you have a marketing story to tell, case history, concept to propose or a memoir, give a shout. I’ll get right back to you. I am: dennyhatch@yahoo.com

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