"20 Little Salesmen"
/tiles/non-collection/m/matchbook_harness_2006_213_000.xml
Collection of the U.S. House of Representatives
About this object
Red, white, and blue were the obvious choices for political candidates' matchbooks.
Match companies touted “the smashing advertising power of
book matches!” as the best way to light a fire under voters in the 1940s. Budget-conscious
candidates agreed. In an era when Americans smoked nearly everywhere, politicians
handed out campaign matchbooks by the truckload. Low cost and wide use turned a
set of strikes into “20 little salesmen” for congressional candidates.
/tiles/non-collection/m/matchbook_scott_2015_004_001.xml
Collection of the U.S. House of Representatives
About this object
Byron Scott's matchbook cover sported some of the standard options offered by match companies: stars, a ballot "x", and several typefaces.
Congressional contenders’ giveaways combined the visual
punch of candidate photographs with surprisingly detailed policy statements. To
begin with, candidates wanted to make sure constituents knew their names and
faces. Designs usually started with a photograph on one side of the cardboard cover.
Mustachioed and Brylcreemed, Byron Scott used a photo that intimated a movie-star
stylishness appropriate to booming southern California. Forest Harness’ version
framed the Representative’s relatively unexciting image with zippy design and a
lighthearted slogan, “Hitch up with Harness again in 1942.”
/tiles/non-collection/m/matchbook_bailey_2015_026_000.xml
Collection of the U.S. House of Representatives
About this object
Three decades' service gave Cleveland Bailey so much name recognition that he could lend a hand – and space – to newer candidates.
Matchbooks like Harness’ were often crammed with text,
inside and out. The tiny giveaway told the reader everything from the election
date to the candidate’s platform. Cleveland Bailey needed an extra-wide version
and five different typefaces to hold his must-read information, including the
names of his fellow candidates. Donald Bruce added his home phone number, in
case his vow to “meet the ‘challenge of the sixties’ with courage – truth –
intelligence” and “a sound dollar, a strong foreign policy, integrity above
all” left an undecided voter in doubt.
And no wonder Bruce crammed so much onto his cover. Sales brochures
noted (and judging from the popularity, candidates agreed) that information was
“insistently but inoffensively repeated twenty times, once for every match in
the book.”
/tiles/non-collection/m/matchbook_bruce_2008_280_000.xml
Collection of the U.S. House of Representatives
About this object
In 1960, Donald Bruce was a relative newcomer with a lot to say.
The heyday of campaign matchbooks lasted more than four decades. Such longevity was no
surprise. The relatively high cost of other gimmicks (including
thimbles, fans, and emery boards) and near-universal smoking made matchbooks a must-have during the election season. Shrewd salesmen
in the 1930s created templates for candidates to use. Just drop in the
information, and “distribute almost three of them… at the price of a penny
postcard.” The first templates were spot-on, and similar elements showed up
through the 1960s.
Most Members of Congress never imagined their tiny
billboards would endure past election day. Nonetheless, some matchbooks,
salvaged from the back of kitchen junk drawers and hobbyists’ collections,
found their way to the House’s trove of artifacts. These battered survivors
show Representatives illuminating their candidacies whenever a supporter struck
a light.
Sources: H. Thomas Steele, Close
Cover Before Striking (New York: Abbeville Press, 1987); Sales brochures,
Gem Match Company (1944) and Diamond Match Company (n.d.); Marisa Wilairat,
“Diamond Matchbooks: Development of Advertising and the Corporate Image in
Early 20th Century America,” The
Haverford Journal, Volume 2, Issue 1 (February 2006)