mothy； to the crib…death syndrome when the infant was only nine days old。 Three weeks after that happened； Roger had broken down and wept； his hands plastered to his fat face in a kind of terrible hopeless sorrow that had squeezed Vic's heart into his throat。 That had been bad。 But the incipient panic he saw in Roger's eyes now was bad； too。
Tornadoes blew out of nowhere in the advertising business from time to time。 A bit outfit like the Ellison
Agency； which billed in the millions； could withstand them。 A little one like Ad Worx just couldn't。 They had been carrying one basket with a lot of little eggs in it and another basket with one big egg … the Sharp account … and it now remained to be seen whether the ' big egg had been lost entirely or if it could at least be scrambled。 None of it had been their fault； but ad agencies make lovely whipping boys。
Vic and Roger had teamed naturally together ever since their first joint effort at the Ellison Agency； six years ago。 Vic； tall and skinny and rather quiet； had formed the perfect yin for Roger Breakstone's fat； happy； and extroverted yang。 They had clicked on a personal basis and on a professional one。 That first assignment had been a minor one； to submit a magazine ad campaign for United Cerebral Palsy。
They had e up with a stark black…and…white ad that showed a small boy in huge； cruel leg braces standing in foul territory by the first…base line of a Little League ballfield。 A New York Mets cap was perched on his head； and his expression … Roger had always maintained that it had been the boy's expression which sold the ad … wasn't sad at all； it was simply dreamy。 Almost happy； in fact。 The copy read
Simply： BILLY BELLAMY IS NEVER GOING TO BAT CLEANUP。 Beneath： BILLY HAS CEREBRAL PALSY。 Beneath that； smaller type： Give Us a Hand； Huh？
CP donations had taken a noticeable leap。 Good for them； good for Vic and Roger。 The team 'Of Trenton and Breakstone had been off and running。 Half a dozen successful campaigns had followed； Vic dealing most monly with broad…scope conception； Roger dealing。 with actual execution。
For the Sony Corporation； a picture of a man sitting cross…legged on the median strip of a sixteen…lane superhighway in a business suit； a big Sony radio on his lap； a seraphic smile on his kisser。 The copy read： POLICE BAND； THE ROLLING STONES； VIVALDI； MIKE WALLACE； THE KINGSTON TRIO； PAUL HARVEY。 PATTI SMITH； JERRY FALWELL And below that： HELLO； LA！
For the Voit people； makers of swim equipment； an ad that showed a man who was the utter antithesis of the Miami beachboy。 Standing arrogantly hipshot on the golden beach of some tropical paradise； the model was a fifty…year…old man with tattoos； a beer belly； slab…muscled arms and legs； and a puckered scar high across one thigh。 In his arms this battered soldier of fortune was cradling a pair of Voit swimfins。 MISTER； the copy for this one read； I DIVE FOR A LIVING。 I DON'T MESS AROUND。 There was a lot more underneath； stuff Roger always referred to as the blah…blah； but the copy set in boldface was the real hooker。 Vic and Roger had wanted it to read I DON't SCREW AROUND； but they hadn't been able to sell the Voit people on that。 Pity； Vic was fond of saying over drinks。 They could have sold a lot more swimfins。
Then there was Sharp。
The Sharp pany of Cleveland had stood twelfth in the Great American Bakestakes when old man Sharp reluctantly came to the Ellison Agency in New York after more than twenty years with a hometown ad agency。 Sharp had been bigger than Nabisco before World War II； the old man was fond of pointing out。 His son was just as fond of pointing out that World War II had ended thirty years ago。
The account … on a six…month trial basis at first … had been handed over to Vic Trenton and Roger Breakstone。 At the end of the trial period； Sharp had vaulted from twelfth in the cookies…cakes…and…cereals market to ninth。 A year later； when Vic and Roger pulled up stakes and moved to Maine to open up their own business； the Sharp pany had climbed to seventh。
Their campaign had been a sweeping one。 For Sharp Cookies； Vic and Roger had developed the Cookie Sharpshooter； a bumbling Western peace officer whose six…guns shot cookies instead of bullets； courtesy of the special…effects people … Chocka Chippers in some spots； Ginger Snappies in others； Oh Those Oatmeals in still others。 The spots always ended with the Sharpshooter standing sadly in a pile of cookies with his guns out。 'Well；
the bad guys got away；' he'd tell millions of Americans every day or so； 'but I got the cookies。 Best cookies in the West。。。 or anywhere else； I reckon。' The Sharpshooter bites into a cookie。 His expression suggests that he is experiencing the gastronomic equivalent of a boy's first orgasm。 Fadeout。
For the prepared cakes … sixteen different varieties ranging from pound to crumb to cheese … there was what Vic called the George and Gracie spot。 We fade in on George and Gracie leaving a posh dinner party where the buffet table groans with every possible delicacy。 We dissolve to a dingy little cold…water flat； starkly lighted。 George is sitting at a plain kitchen table with a checked tablecloth。 Gracie takes a Sharp Pound Cake （or Cheese Cake or Crumb Cake） from the freezer of their old refrigerator and sets it on the table。 They are both still in their evening clothes。 They smile into each other's eyes with warmth and love and understanding； two people who are utterly in sync with each other。 Fade to these words； on black： SOMETIMES ALL YOU WANT IS A SHARP CAKE。 Not a word spoken in the entire spot。That one had won a Clio。
As had the Sharp Cereal Professor'； hailed in the trades as 'the most responsible advertisement ever produced for children's programming。' Vic and Roger had considered it their crowning achievement 。。。 but now it was the Sharp Cereal Professor who had e back to haunt them。
Played by a character actor in late middle age； the Sharp Cereal Professor was a low…key and daringly adult advertisement in a sea of animated kiddie…vid ads selling bubble gum； adventure toys； dolls； action figures 。。。 and rival cereals。
The ad faded in on a deserted fourth… or fifth…grade classroom； a scene Saturday…morning viewers of The Bugs Bunny/Roadrunner Hour and The Drac Pack could readily identify with。 The Sharp Cereal Professor was wearing a suit； a V…necked sweater； and a shirt open at the collar。 Both in looks and in speech he was mildly authoritarian； Vic and Roger had talked to some forty teachers and half a dozen child psychiatrists and had discovered that this was the sort of parental role model that the majority of kids feel most fortable with； and the sort that so few actually have in their homes。
The Cereal Professor was sitting on a teacher's desk； hinting at some informality … the soul of a real pal hidden somewhere beneath that gray…green tweed； the young viewer might assume … but he spoke slowly and gravely。 He did not mand。 He did not talk down。 He did not wheedle。 He did not cajole or extol。 He spoke to the millions of T…shirted； cereal…slurping； cartoon…watching Saturday…morning viewers as though they were real people。
'Good morning； children；' the Professor said quietly。 'This is a mercial for cereal。 Listen to me carefully； please。 I know a lot about cereals； because I'm the Sharp Cereal Professor。 Sharp Cereals … Twinkles； Cocoa Bears； Bran… 16； and Sharp All…Grain Blend … are the best…tasting cereals in America。 And they're good for you。' A beat of silence； and then the Sharp Cereal Professor grinned 。。。 and when he grinned； you knew there was the soul of a real pal in there。 'Believe me； because I know。 Your mom knows； I just thought you'd like to know too。'
A young man came into the ad at that point； and he handed the Sharp Cereal Professor a bowl of Twinkles or Cocoa Bears or whatever。 The Sharp Cereal Professor dug in； then looked straight into every living room in the country and said。。 'Nope； nothing wrong here。'
Old man Sharp hadn't cared for that last line； or the idea that anything could be wrong with one of his cereals。 Eventually Vic and Roger had worn him down； but not with rational arguments。 Making ads was not a rational business。 You often did what felt right； but that didn't mean you could understand why it felt right。 Both Vic and Roger felt that the Professor's final line had a power which was both simple and enormous。 ing from the Cereal Professor； it was the final； total fort； a plete security blanket。 I'll never hurt you； it implied。 In a world where parents get divorced； where older kids sometimes beat the shit out of you for no rational reason； where the rival Little League team sometimes racks the crap out of your pitching； where the good guys don't always win like they do on TV； where you don't always get invited to the good birthday party； in a world where so much goes wrong； there will always be Twinkles and Cocoa Bears and All…Grain Blend； and they'll always taste good。 'Nope； nothing wrong here。'
With a little help from Sharp's son （later on； Roger said； you would have believed the kid thought the ad up and wrote it himself）； the Cereal Professor concept was approved and saturated Saturday…morning TV； plus such weekly syndicated programs as Star Blazers； U。S。 of Archie； Hoga