Again, we turn to "Tudor City Goes to the Theatre," a pitch about the problems of theatergoing made by the ad agency, Huber Hoge Inc.
Huber Hoge got straight to the point. "In a theatre-goer's mind the chasm between the play and a vacant apartment is colossal. He buys an apartment only once in two or three years. To bludgeon his wandering attention, we have tried to show him himself; his difficulties in reaching and leaving the theatre, the bother he causes others by arriving late and leaving early. Unless, of course, he lives in the center of town, preferably Tudor City. This series is part of our avowed purpose to remind a forgetful public that Tudor City not only has apartments at $65 a month but that, as a community, it is an interesting, clever place to live."
Following, some sample ads were included in the pitch. We've included some highlights from the text as well.
"They should have been at the theatre. But here they are somewhere on Long Island, struggling with a flat tire. They are sorry now that they didn't take the train. And sorrier still they don't live in Tudor City so that they could walk to the theatre without trouble or fatigue. . ."
"The missing buttons on a coat. Torn off in the struggle. The haggard appearance. The bedraggled air. The limp ‒ that hack on the shin was obviously painful. All mark the man who lives in some distant inaccessible place and travels by subway. How different the man who lives in Tudor City. His spruce appearance proclaims that he has enjoyed the brisk walk to his office this morning. He will get home as easily in the evening. . . "
"The commuter executive let his wife pack his bag. One cuff link. One shoe. An unmistakable footprint on his shirt front! And a dinner date waiting! Spend the winter season in Tudor City and dress comfortably, with more time to make a good job of it. . . "
"An office dresser is always spotted. Those creases in a coat once nicely pressed ‒ before it was jammed into a suit case. The crumpled collar ‒ he had murdered the only one at hand. The wrong cuff links ‒ a penalty of hurried packing. All mark him out from the man who has dressed comfortably at home. . ."
"He parked it in a forbidden area while he had dinner. Along came Commissioner Whalen's collection crew and now it will cost him $10.00 to get it from the station. And all because he lives in Brooklyn and has to drive in whenever he wants to go to a theatre. . ."