Newport pleasure!

Even in my childhood I was readily able to notice flaws in logic present in Newport cigarette advertisements. A group of young, attractive Caucasians sat gathered around a campfire, laughing amongst themselves at some high-class humor—a scene beneath which lay arranged the words “Newport Pleasure!” There weren’t even any cigarettes—or intimation thereof, for that matter—in the rest of the ad! How could this possibly be an effective marketing technique? How could smoking Americans fail to see through Newport’s faulty association between their models’ airbrushed adventures and their murderous product?

When tasked with dissecting an advertisement for Composition, Newport’s campaigns were among the first ideas to spring into my head. They were perfect, relying heavily upon the perceived ethos of their disposable characters and the pathos of audiences’ cultural memories while usually doing away with logos altogether. My unbridled hatred for tobacco corporations added yet another draw to the subject, and I settled eventually on this 1970’s Newport ad, provided on page 6, which—although it includes a cigarette in the image—sent me into a fit of uncontrollable laughter at first viewing. And so, here is my assessment of rhetorical devices present in an advertisement for Newport cigarettes. Welcome aboard.

Remember back in the day when it was cool for the everyday working man to take a short break from his masculine manual labor and light up a menthol-chilled Newport cigarette? Things were easier for the average blue-collar American then, regulations lax, personal freedoms abundant. Those were simpler times, before the nagging specter of the FDA reared its propagandizing, socialist and life-saving head. The easygoing atmosphere of the time and the idealized image of masculinity are epitomized in this 1970s Newport advertisement depicting the “average” shipyard worker sporting a designer beanie, a movie-star smile and toting a Newport cigarette. The advertisement makes extensive use of various rhetorical devices to impart an image of male camaraderie, a suave way to make use of leisure time, and a debonair, devil-may-care mentality which Newport hoped would make their product appealing to a great number of their target audience.

Among the most readily obvious instances of rhetoric found in the advertisement is the “Welcome aboard” quotation appearing at left of the spokesperson. The saying, while reflecting the nautical theme of the advertisement and acknowledging the fact that the man is indeed a sailor at sea, still effectively imparts a sense of male camaraderie which would be appealing to impressionable males of a certain age. The quote suggests that in smoking Newport cigarettes the consumer is joining a group more extensive than himself (or herself, but the male camaraderie aspect probably was targeted mainly at males), and that suave, attractive blue-collar men not unlike the subject of the photograph are his new tobacco compatriots. This ideal would have a genuine and lasting effect on many among the impressionable youth, who are always looking to be accepted and to integrate themselves into groups of people, comprised of their peers or otherwise, whom they respect and admire.

In order for the quote to be effective, however, the subject of the photograph must be exactly right, keying in on every relevant societal cue suggesting friendliness, inclusiveness, and good-naturedness. All of these issues are solved instantly by the sailor’s flashing of perfectly-white teeth, on display arranged in something just less than a grin, and his easygoing, relaxed expression. The advertisement makes an effort to portray a working man, the type of man millions of teenagers aspire to be, at rest, enjoying a smooth drag on his Newport cigarette. There’s no mention of danger, no implication of worry—just a pleasurable afternoon break at sea with the guys. What’s most curious is where exactly “aboard” would place the reader. Is he simply welcoming the target audience in the most straightforward manner possible, on board his sailing vessel? Or is he, rather, welcoming the reader into the world of cigarette smokers, a supposedly tight-knit community of easygoing and suave gentlemen? I’d like to believe the latter is implied while the explicit explanation ensures that the advertisement doesn’t come across as completely ridiculous—the viewer are intended to subconsciously associate the nautical metaphor with the fictional smokers’ underground society.

More important than his attitude is the man himself, the subject and selling point of the photograph. Had the model been less masculine, less appealing to members of both sexes for various reasons, the product would not have been reinforced so effectively and, in fact, may be inadvertently portrayed in a negative light. The man had to be perfect for the job, and the model Newport chose doubtless is. Featuring a glorious mustache, something more like a 6 o’clock shadow, formidable sideburns, and an unkempt mane casually tucked into a black working-man’s cap, the man is just rugged and masculine enough to appeal to both genders for different reasons, which is a difficult balance to achieve. Males viewing the advertisement might view the man as a role model, someone they’d like to emulate in everyday life, while females might find the man attractive enough to draw their interest into the advertisement and towards its product.

Not only are his physical appearance and attractiveness factors, but he also must be infinitely relatable to people throughout the target audience, hailing from all walks of life. This sentiment is achieved through the suggestion of his position as a sailor, a working man just trying to get by. Yes, he’s at sea with a beautiful and appealing backdrop of waves and cumulus clouds behind him, but he’s probably only there to put food on the table for his family. Regardless, it’s all good: he’s got a Newport cigarette to help him forget his troubles and make the most of his well-deserved spare time. He’s the 1970s everyman while maintaining his position as role model to younger generations, another difficult balance achieved effortlessly by the charming gentleman.

This position as the blue-collar everyman lends credence to his ethos on the subject of cigarette smoking. Looking at the guy, it’s assumed by the viewer that he wasn’t born yesterday—a subtle scar under his right eye is testament to the fact. This is indeed a weathered soul who’s been around the block before: he knows what he likes about the world, and it’s clear that he’s got his life pretty well in order. It’s assumed that, despite his flawless, pearly white teeth, he’s a longtime smoker, giving him a respectable amount of experience and tobacco knowledge. This understanding would assign the subject authority on the topic of leisure activities, and the advertisers are banking on the theory that the impressionable youth—and maybe even some impressionable adults, as well—will appeal to his preferences and choose Newport cigarettes for themselves. The only conceivable way the ethos element could be any more prevalent in this advertisement would be if the subject were a celebrity of some kind; but I think the message is more effective as is because of the status subconsciously applied to the model in the advertisement within an instant of the first viewing.

To be honest, it was difficult not to find the Newport-spouting an interesting character, for a man with sideburns of that caliber doubtless has some exciting adventures to retell. The advertisement works best because it appeals to a great number of human factors on many different levels, targeting not only impressionable young males but everyone in between as well. In short, the subject of the Newport advertisement is the epitome of masculinity, the magnum opus of Ares, the modern equivalent of Cary Grant, Gregory Peck or Clark Gable. And, seriously now, who hasn’t at some point or another wanted to be Rhett Butler? I assume Newport’s advertising campaign was most effective with teenagers, probably a tad younger than myself, who idealized figures like the aforementioned movie stars and yearned to cut themselves a piece of the debonair pie. According to implicit rhetorical devices appearing throughout the advertisement, Newport cigarettes provided the avenue necessary to achieve just that. Welcome aboard, matey. Enjoy the lung cancer, there’s plenty to go around.