Popp’s article examines ways that advertisement checkers and
advertising agencies in the mid to late nineteenth century collected and
organized the entire nation’s print production.
Starting around the mid nineteenth century, technological
advancements such as railroads and the rise of print media such as newspapers
created an environment in which it became possible for businesses to advertise
to a national audience. Advertising
agencies were started as “middle men” to connect businesses to potential
customers who were not in the same city, state, or region of the country.
As a part of this industry and as a way of
providing credibility to the advertising business, agencies employed their own
checking departments. The checking
departments would receive copies of all of the newspapers from around the country
by train (often for free since newspapers knew that advertisers made them
money), and their checkers would look through every one in which one of their
customers had contracted to put an advertisement (a considerable amount of
labor!). After the checkers had found,
marked, and made a record of all the advertisements for the contract (including
mistakes), they billed the individual businesses.
As a result of this practice, checking departments became
large-scale collectors of print media from across the country—they literally collected
every newspaper. Popp argues that this
state of affairs accomplished two purposes.
First, it lent the advertising agencies a lot of credibility, since
advertisers were previously thought of as hucksters and snake-oil-men. They would ask their customers to come to
their reading rooms and survey the print material which they had amassed as a
way of proving their credibility.
The
second effect of this habit of collecting print material, Popp argues, was that
it organized the nation geographically; in some checking departments, a person
could literally walk into a kind of cove (like at a library) that represented
two or three states of the union. Popp
examines the newspaper pavilion at the 1876 Philadelphia centennial celebration
as an example of the way advertising agencies were organizing the nation’s
print and the rhetorical power this kind of completeness and collapsing of
space had on viewers. He calls this
effect “geographic mastery” (60).
I think Popp’s historical account is quite fascinating, and
I agree with his argument about the effect that agencies’ collections had on
their customers and the public. I would
be surprised, impressed, and a little proud if a reading room managed to contain
my hometown’s local newspaper (though I’m no fan of the paper).
But there’s one thing I couldn’t help but
wonder about after reading Popp’s argument.
If, for example, a reader in Kansas learns about a product made in New
York City, and he or she wants to purchase one, what happens then? Does that person send an order or a
letter? Does the company have to ship
their product to Kansas? Does the
customer have to pay steep shipping costs?
What if a company’s advertising campaign is a little too successful and
they can’t keep up with the orders from their sudden ability to address a
nation? Popp writes, “Businessmen who
passed up this opportunity, preferring to keep their markets local, would come
to regret their lack of ambition, admen warned” (80). Obviously, this is the admen talking, but
wouldn’t some businesses have been incapable of having a national market?
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