Originally published Thursday, February 15, 1979

Chesterfields – they satisfy. I’d walk a mile for a Camel. Lucky Strikes – they’re toasted. Call for Phillip Morris. Remember those slogans? If you do, the candles on your birthday cake probably constitute a fire hazard.
But then tobacco companies spent million of dollars in advertising for just that reason. Before king size, before filters, before crush-proof boxes, before HEW and the FCC, cigarette advertising on radio was big business, and it was this advertising that for one brief moment shoved me in the glow of the spotlight usually not reserved for the likes of a country bumpkin.
It transported me from the grilled cheese sandwiches at Preacher’s Drugstore to the Majestic Theatre in New York City. From turnip greens to truffles and it was Liggett and Myers Tobacco Company, which took me on that magic carpet from Academy Street to Broadway.
In 1950 cigarette smokers had not been demoted to second-class-citizen status. Many big names in the entertainment world endorsed one brand or another. This was long before Virginia Slims started using women’s liberation as propaganda to get the gals hooked on their brand. It was a news item in the paper that was responsible for my digging into old newspaper clippings, and other assorted scraps and bits of worthless trivia that are absolutely meaningless to everyone except me.
The news item stated that the Liggett Group was selling its domestic cigarette business. In 1950 Marion Few was part owner of WDKD, and Marion’s brother, Ben Few, was president of what was then called the Liggett and Myers Tobacco Company. We mentioned the slogan “They satisfy,” but they had another slogan, using the letters “ABC,” “Always Buy Chesterfield.” But some sharp Madison Avenue huckster in a grey flannel suit came up with the bright idea that, since Arthur Godfrey, Bob Hope and Perry Como all had network shows sponsored by Chesterfield, it would fit in nicely with the slogan “ABC,” “A” for Arthur, “B” for Bob, and “C” for Como.
It may sound corny, but it sold a lot of cigarettes, which brings us to August of 1950, and how I went from playing hillbilly records on Highway 52 to front-row center on Broadway of a Rogers and Hammerstein hit show, “South Pacific.”
Chesterfield decided to sponsor a radio show on CBS called the “ABC’s of Music.” The format was to invite three disc jockeys from various parts of the country and the deejays would choose recording stars who were supposedly big in their coverage area as their guests. So I was chosen. In reality, I felt as if I had been anointed. Of course my chances of getting a license to open up a massage parlor at the Vatican. The truth, of course, is I never would have had the opportunity without the help of Mr. and Mrs. Marion Few and Marion’s brother Ben.
Now keeping in mind that we had the option of choosing who the big recording stars were that would be invited as guests. And they were supposed to represent who had the big record in our listening area at the time. And I chickened out. I wasn’t about to tell those wheels at CBS New York that the big stars at WDKD were Roy Acuff or Bill Munroe. In 1950 country music was restricted to the cow pastures and the cornfields. So I settled for the Mills Brothers. Sure I did. Honestly I was so happy to be there, I would have been happy with the Hemingway High School marching band.
It was a 30-minute network show. I received $400 plus expenses. In 1950 that was a lot of bread, and no inflation. I was wined and dined. I got to see the Giants play the Dodgers in the old Polo Grounds. I even got to do the commercials for Chesterfields. Some damn Yankee figured that since I lived in the heart of tobacco country they naturally assumed I would do a great cigarette commercial for Chesterfields. It is this kind of thinking that makes me wonder how they ever won the war. But high highlights, the pinnacle, the crowning episode in a series of unforgettable experiences was getting to see the Broadway Show “South Pacific.”
In 1950 this was the hottest show on Broadway.” Tickets were at a premium. It was like trying to get a ticket to the Super Bowl. But I was a celebrity, thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Few, so in my double-breasted blue-serge suit, purchased from Swail’s Men Shop in downtown Kingstree, I marched down the center aisles of Majestic Theatre in New York City. I was closer to heaven than Dolly Parton’s bra.
Mary Martin singing Rodgers and Hammerstein, that’s class. It has been almost 29 years now since I boarded that train in Kingstree for the Big Apple. I still have some of the clippings from The County Record, and the defunct Times-Herald of Lake City.
Local boy makes good, but those who think it was all a dream, now about the picture on the front page of me and Mills Brothers taken August 23, 1950. And look at that double-breasted blue-serge suit. Talk about being the tall hog at the trough.