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Count Waldiz. Not that I want to see him again. [No one ever did see the Count again]. Damn him! He’s created a disaster! There go all our hopes for a decent, upmarket stogie!
    I’d better wind this up now, for the
Hindenburg
seems to be falling towards me! Evidently if the hydrogen burns up, the darned thing can’t stay aloft! It sinks to earth as surely as a ship sinks to the bottom of the sea! I wish I’d paid more attention in chemistry class. If only –
     
    LeRoy was crushed to death by a piece of the falling wreckage. Near as anyone can tell, it was a giant tail fin, emblazoned with a swastika.

Sophisticated Ladies, Satin Dolls, and Brothers Who Could Spare a Dime
     
    Throughout the 1930s, the advertising department set to work developing a cigarette with a completely new image. As their report saw it, people wanted to escape from the harsh world of the Depression into a fantasy of wealth and sophistication:
    Our new cigarette, X, must be closely identified with the modern young aristocrats: men and women who are rich and suave, tough and coolly sophisticated.
    For example, the man who smokes X might spend the day hunting foxes, then put on evening clothes to go to a boxing match, ending up at a low dive in Harlem where all the waiters know him.
    Or the man who smokes X might return from hunting big game in Nairobi, then spend a season relaxing at Monte, where he enjoys making substantial bets – a king’s ransom on a turn of the wheel.
    Let us not forget the woman whosmokes X. She might spend the day racing her own plane, then give a dinner party for a select circle of friends including the Prince of Wales.
    Or the woman who smokes X might play a chukker of polo, then get up a theatre party to see the Lunts in a new Noel Coward play. Later she would include the Lunts and Coward in her party, as she moved on to the newest nightclub.
    The name we choose for X must suggest something English and aristocratic, such as those used by our competitors: KingEdward, Prince Albert, Chesterfield, Tareyton, &c. Possible candidates are Lord Byron, Ring James, Ivanhoe, Montrose, or aristocratic place names like Hampshire, York, Lancashire, Kent, Marlborough, Somerset, Devonshire.
     
    A major obstacle to this change was Augustus Badcock, who saw no reason to modernize. Augustus was a formidable bully. Lady Fantasy had been his idea originally, and now he was reluctant to let her go. Augustus was still the president, and he resisted all change at General Snuff and Tobacco. His reply to the memo fairly snorted at the idea of “Lord Fauntleroy stuff” selling tobacco. The image of poloplaying women was also repugnant to him. He responded to thefamous memo by firing the entire advertising dep artment.
    There followed a stormy board meeting:
    AUGUSTUS: We don’t need no Lord Fauntleroys or polo popsies in tight breeches. We can always count on our old standbys, Lady Fantasy, Bull Pouch, and Cairo.
     
    BOARD MEMBER (laughs): Just look at the sales figures. No one still smokes Lady Fantasy but a handful of old veterans – half of them missing a lung.
     
    AUGUSTUS: That’s from poison gas! You can’t blame cigarettes for lung problems!
     
    BOARD MEMBER: Maybe not. Nevertheless, the public associates our products with broken-down, bronchitic invalids. Is that what we want? As for Bull Pouch tobacco and Cairo Cut Plug, nobody uses them but a few old-timers out west. Is that the kind of image we want? Tom Mix trying to hit a spittoon? We don’t need to call upthe ghosts of sunburned yahoos with dirty necks, squatting around a campfire. No sir. The fact is, cowboys are dying out, and if we don’t move with the times, so are we.
     
    AUGUSTUS: Death! Damn you, I know all about death. Lost my son to this High Society nonsense. Le-Roy just had to get on the damned Hindenburg and mingle. Well, I’m not going to suffer any further losses. Damn it, I’ll die out myself before I let you tarnish the good name of General Snuff and