Yellow Pages: ads outshine and outlive the product
As it succumbs to the pressure of a digital-first world, Dominic Mills looks back at the Yellow Pages’ iconic ads – and wonders if their style could still work today. Plus: No soggy bottom for Dr Oetker
Like many, I suspect, I was shocked to discover last week that Yellow Pages would disappear from print as of next year.
That’s shocked as in we didn’t realise it was still going. The last time I looked it was as thin as a pizza takeaway pamphlet, and the last time I used one was to prop a door open to do some DIY. It did the job perfectly in much the same way as it did, pre-Google, of helping you find local trades. Whether you were looking for bee-keeping equipment or someone who could repair VCR machines, Yellow Pages was the place to go.
Most media chose to illustrate the demise of Yellow Pages with a reference to its most famous ad, ‘Fly Fishing’ from 1983. It’s the tale of an old man trudging round second-hand book shops looking for an obscure book on fly fishing by J.R Hartley. No luck. Then he tries Yellow Pages, finds a copy and asks the shop to keep it for him. “My name…?,” he tells the shop owner, “…Oh, er, yes…it’s Hartley. J.R. Hartley.”
There is, I think, a certain irony in this. The ad is more famous than the product. It certainly gripped the national imagination. It’s hard to conceive now, but ‘Fly Fishing’ or ‘J.R. Hartley’ became catchphrases and even punchlines to jokes.
How did that happen? For a number of reasons. First, the ad was ubiquitous and, with a limited number of channels, hard to avoid. Second, Yellow Pages believed in advertising and put serious money behind it. And third it was a great ad, written of course by the wonderful David Abbott (the ‘A’ of AMV BBDO, for those of a short memory). The pay-off line, while entirely predictable, was still worth the wait and both the storyline and its execution bore repeat watching.
Others will remember the teenager who needs to find a French polisher to repair his parents’ furniture after an impromptu party; a dad buying a birthday bike for his son; or the feckless student who wants to persuade his hot neighbour that he’s clean and tidy by hiring a cleaner.
You will also still find people (OK, of a certain age) who can sing one of its jingles – ‘Let your fingers do the walking’ set to a piece of bubblegum pop – and recite the end line ‘It’s not just there for the bad things in life’.
Somewhat paradoxically, while the ads were brilliant and culturally resonant, the business model itself was spectacularly dull – the more consumers used it, the easier it was to persuade local businesses to rebook or upgrade their directory ads.
It’s not difficult to dismantle the ads to see why they were so successful. One, the issues they dealt with were universal; two, even though he was clad in a tweed suit, everybody had, or wished they had, a kindly grandad like J.R. Hartley; three, we all knew or recognised the student, the bike-buying dad or the party-giving teenager; four, they don’t shout or hector; and five, there’s a gentle warmth and a positivity coursing through each ad.
Yet, despite their success, I can’t see many brands trying to make ads in that style again. This may be heresy, but I can see why.
Watching ‘Fly Fishing’ again I found it much more dated than I expected. What I thought were strengths – the measured pace, the absence of a soundtrack, no shouting or hectoring – turned out to be boring.
And, here’s the sad thing – were it on today, I wouldn’t sit through it. It’s like watching old films: however brilliant they are, and however fondly you remember them, they’ve lost something in time.
No soggy bottom for Dr Oetker
At last, GBBO is back and, based on episode one, performing well in terms of audience.
But what about the joint sponsors, Dr Oetker and Tate and Lyle? Back in July I was dismissive of the idea of joint sponsorship, only to get a polite smack on the hand from C4 who pointed out that this was normal in many sectors. At the same time, the redoubtable Drayton Bird pointed out that it was perfectly possible to have twin sponsors: they took it in turns to lead the break.
Judging by episode one, however, I’d say I was right. The pair share the breaks. I can’t get Dr Oetker’s singing cakes out of my head; as for the Tate and Lyle idents – er, I’ve no idea what they were about.
The fact that they’re deadly dull doesn’t help, but the real killer is that they run after the Dr Oetker’s ones, and thus suffer even more by comparison.
You can see one of the Dr Oetker’s idents here. It’s irritatingly catchy, which is what sponsorship is all about.
If I was C4 I’d have a quiet word in Tate and Lyle’s ear and ask it and its agency to up their game. Otherwise the sponsorship will be money down the drain and nobody wins when that happens.