Those of us who grew up in the ’30s and ’40s were motivated to obtain premiums offered by food makers who sponsored radio programs. Their offers didn’t only promote products; they also developed youngsters’ sense of personal hygiene, patriotism, and civic responsibility.

The purpose of the radio premium was twofold: (1) it established a listening audience, thereby promoting the programs’ popularity, (2) it increased the use of the product to assure continued sponsorship. Interestingly enough, the two seemed forever intertwined.

Even today one continues to associate Wheaties, “The Breakfast of Champions,” with Jack Armstrong “the All-American Boy”; Instant Ralston with the Tom Mix Ralston Straight Shooters of the Air; and Ovaltine (which promoted the famous Shake-Up Mug) with Orphan Annie and later with the adventures of Captain Midnight and his Secret Squadron.

The origin of the radio premium can be attributed to Vincent Lopez. In 1921, while broadcasting with his orchestra from the Pennsylvania Grill in New York City over radio station WJZ, he offered an authographed photo of himself to anyone who wrote in.

The requests were so tremendous that the station had to hire additional staff. Thus the radio premium became a viable advertising incentive.

The Depression Era provided the perfect catalyst of “something for nothing.” For hard-pressed consumers, the premium cost only a boxtop pouring spout or inner seal. Promotion impact was spurred by radio coming into its own as a communications medium.

At the same time, radio programming was soon to unite the country. Its entertainment provided a relief from existing hard times—the perfect atmosphere for the advertising craze of the radio premium.

The premium, however, seemed more than just a gimmick or promotional hype. In most instances, premiums bore a specific identity, related to a particular program. They were well integrated into the program’s script or story line and actually used by the show’s hero or heroine.

The identity factor was a tremendous success. One imagined the hero Tom Mix calling his faithful horse Tony. A hearty blast of his specially designed Ralston Straight Shooters “Siren Ring” saved him as he was stranded on the edge of a cliff. Later in the program the announcer (unique to radio) encouraged, “become the first one on your block” to own the same ring that “saved” Tom. The premium was offered for only 10 cents and a boxtop from that hearty whole wheat cereal–Ralston!

As a child, you just had to have one. If it helped Tom, it would surely do the same for you. Sometimes the wait for the item seemed like ages–and for a series of episodes the ring was used in “life and death” situations. Those special hours after school from 4:30 to 6 belonged to youngsters. I can still remember running home after school with an eagerness and anticipation of what might happen to my heroes. That magic little box, called the radio, placed high atop the refrigerator was a dream factory. It transformed our kitchen into the Tom Mix ranch or the Captain Midnight squadron room.

Commercials were something you anticipated and couldn’t wait for (not something that gave relief as they do today). One knew that an offer was in store, or that there would be a secret message to decode. The message would foretell the outcome of tomorrow’s show.

Conclusions of the shows were always cliff-hangers. Anyone having Captain Midnight’s 1946 “official decoder” to decipher the announcer’s message was someone special. Thus, the premium was not an isolated offer, but something well integrated into the story.

If the premium’s original goals were to get youngsters to listen to the program and buy the product, they certainly went well beyond that.

Kids Joined Clubs

Through the premiums, kids became members of a “special group”—a Straight Shooter, a Secret Squadron member, a Future Champion of America. In other words, kids were members of respectable organizations with rules and regulations—just like the grownups!

I can see now why those of us in our 60s and 70s feel obligated to belong to social, civic, and professional organizations. The seeds were planted at an early age—and by those responsible people who not only sold products, but developed scripts for radio shows.

Patriotism, civic responsibility, and the will to succeed can all be traced back to those “golden days of yesteryear,” when we followed those thrilling adventures of our childhood heroes!

Another significant point about the premium itself is its quality. It wasn’t cheap, a rip-off, or something of little significance that was easily broken and discarded. It was “sturdy like the hero”—aesthetic and well-made. The majority of rings and decoders were made of brass. Radio premiums were symbolic of the heroes they represented, artifacts from a special period in American genre.

Perhaps this period was the Golden Age of Radio, but it was also the Golden Age of Premiums. Hundreds upon hundreds of premiums were offered. Of all the premiums known it is safe to say that 99 percent can be found today, or have been saved or forgotten in a drawer or attic cache.

It is a lasting tribute to the value people placed on those playthings. Many in my own collection are complete in their original mailer with instructions, premium, and a special message to give to Mom, extolling the nutritional attributes of the product.

One gets the feeling of deja vu—as though the premium has just been delivered by the postman.

The packages themselves bear witness to the pride sponsors placed in their products. Logos of the TM Bar Brand and the Jack Armstrong signature are worn on the packages like medals of honor. Many often bear the item’s assembly directions—well illustrated for all to see!

To a youngster growing up at that time, Battle Creek, Mich., Checkerboard Square, St. Louis, and Chicago were household words. These were the places where images of magic were produced. They actually weren’t produced there—one of the largest producers of premiums was the Robbins Co. in Attleboro, Mass.

Many adult shows also offered premiums. Examples are Lum & Abner (a walking weather prophet pin and yearly almanacs), Helen Trent (jewelry and a facsimile pin of a radio with a revolving dial picturing the cast), and Amos and Andy (an illustrated map of Weber City).

Also, One Man’s Family (the Barbour Family albums, scrapbooks and cookbooks), and the famous Don McNeill’s Breakfast Club (annual books depicting cast members, letters, poems, recipes, etc.) were popular.

80 Percent Aimed At Kids

But it was the kids’ programs that provided the largest cache of premiums, almost 80 percent of everything given away during the Golden Age of Radio.

The kids programs that contributed the major bulk of the known give-away premiums along with their sponsors were:

- Buck Rogers
(Cocomalt)
- Capt. Midnight
(Ovaltine)
- Dick Tracy
(Quaker Puffed Wheat & Rice)
- Jack Armstrong
(Wheaties)
- The Lone Ranger
(Kix and Cheerios)
- Orphan Annie
(Ovaltine and Quaker Sparkies)
- Sgt. Preston of the Yukon
(Quaker Puffed Wheat & Rice)
- Sky King
(Peter Pan Peanut Butter)
- Straight Arrow
(Nabisco Shredded Wheat)
- Superman
(Kellogg’s Pep)
- Tom Mix
(Instant Ralston)

If anyone epitomized the American ethic, it was Jack Armstrong, the All-American Boy, sponsored by Wheaties. The premiums offered by this program were forerunners of the current-day fitness craze.

The classic premium pedometer (used to measure walking or running distances) was so well made that it was offered over a period of years. It was called the Hike-O-Meter and Ped-O-Meter.

It was so popular that it succeeded itself in recent years, and (still sponsored by Wheaties in the ’80s) was called the Jog-O-Meter.

Wheaties still associates itself with the physical fitness ethic, in the ’80s still using Olympic Decathalon Champion Bruce Jenner. At the time I was waiting for the Bruce Jenner Ped-O-Meter to be offered.

The Jack Armstrong program became one of the most prolific in offering premiums.

Write A Fighter

There was the Write-A-Fighter Corps (suggesting you write to someone in the Armed Forces during World War II), the Norden Bombsight (complete with bombs and enemy ships), the Big Ten Football game, the bullet flashlights, model war planes, a magic answer box, an adventure telescope, and a Sound Effects Kit complete with a microphone.

Over a period of some eighteen years (1935 to 1951) the main emphasis of Jack and Wheaties was physical fitness. The two were so well integrated that a cereal bowl was offered in 1937 emblazoned with Jack and sports heroes of the day.

These included Boib Feller, Joe DiMaggio, Babe Didrikson, Red Grange, and Kit Klein. Bowls were headed “Eat a Breakfast of Champions.” This became symbolic of Wheaties, Jack Armstrong and the All-American Spirit.

The Jack Armstrong Future Champions of America Manual was the epitome of responsible radio advertising. A 38-page manual, issued in 1943, came with a patch and stars for accomplishments.

Manuals contained:
 - F.C.A. training rules,
 - a nutritional chart,
 - condition chart,
 - guides on how to organize your own team,
 - instructions on how to earn and wear your stars,
 - champion test standards, and
 - three pages of “true champions” that were made–not born.” These included tennis star Bobby Riggs, swimming star Gloria Callen, and skating star Roy Shipstad.

The manual’s last page contained a certificate pledge along with the following inscription: “In joining the Future Champions of America I promise to live up to its ideals of fair play and wholesome exercise, to keep myself physically fit to the best of my ability, and to cooperate with my teammates and our coach at all times.

“I will be faithful to the schedule of activity as outlined in this Manual and will add service stars to my insignia only after I have earned them fairly.”

This was the type of philosophy adhered to by both sponsors and programs that dominated the air waves of the Golden Days of Radio. With such a responsible advertising regime it’s no wonder the association between sponsors and programs lasted for years.

One of the final premiums offered by Jack Armstrong and Wheaties was the Cub Pilot Trainer. An ingenious cardboard-constructed console simulated the flying controls of a plane. The console contained a small Piper cub plane that responded to control-stick movements.

An accompanying “How To Fly Manual” and a Cub Pilot Corps Newspaper encouraged learning to fly an authentic Piper.

The manual, endorsed by the Piper Aircraft Corp., depicted photos of real Piper planes and eventually encouraged a trip to the local airport for a flying lesson.

This premium represents the realism that existed in so many of the period’s offers. There was a total integration of radio scripts and the real world of the listening youngsters.

Radio premiums were such an overwhelming success year after year because they integrated a fictitious hero’s adventures and the adventures that we experienced as youngsters.

The majority of the premiums were offered over the aired radio program and received through the mail. But Wheaties, in several cases, offered premiums which could be picked up in local grocery stores. One was the Wheaties Breakfast of Champions Bowl which accompanied a store display.

It must have been a tremendous success since I can still find bowls at flea markets in excellent condition. By offering bowls at point-of-purchase, Wheaties eliminated the long wait through the mail.

The Golden Age of Radio, with its imaginative use of incentives, is gone forever. But its lasting impressions made an indelible mark in the annals of advertising that has yet to be equalled by current-day approaches. Take me back to those thrilling days of yesteryear.

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Anthony Evangelista is a Professor Emeritus from Kutztown University. For many years he was a professor in the art department of the university.