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Yo, can I have a cigarette? It’s a familiar refrain in Bombay social circles. I don’t — can’t — smoke, so I make my apologies and the questioner moves on in search of someone else with a cigarette to spare. It was the summer of 2011, and I was back home in Bombay. That summer, if you asked certain people for a cigarette, their answer would immediately be “yes.” It was something I noticed at a succession of social gatherings in the city during my trip home: young people giving out cigarettes at a rate that would have bankrupted the ordinary student, even in India where a pack costs about a dollar and not 10 bucks like it does in Toronto. There’s a reason those people were able to be so free with their smokes. They’d been hired by a company, Enbisaze Solutions, to distribute — or “sample,” in their terminology — Marlboro cigarettes to young people at social events. “It was a three-month campaign, where I had to sample cigarettes to legal-age smokers — that’s the ages of 18 and above,” explains Vanessa, who was hired as a “Marlboro Red Connector.” “At any parties or any chilling-out scenes where a group of more than six people were present, I had to sample.” It wasn’t as simple as just handing out cigarettes to friends, though. “You had to take pictures — that was very important — to show the number of people you had sampled to,” says Vanessa. “Every time you sampled, you needed to take pictures and give [the company] an estimate as to how many people you had sampled to and how many packs of Marlboro you used to sample to those people.” Advertising is certainly not a new concept. The ancient Egyptians featured their wares on papyrus posters, and billboards have existed since at least the late 17 th century. Rewind to New York in the 1890s, and you’d see a kind of guerilla marketing similar to what I saw last summer in Bombay. If you were walking along the street in those days, you’d be accosted by a man in the street, engaging you in lively discussion about the wonders of the commercial establishment behind you. Swayed by his argument, you’d find yourself stepping inside to peruse the wares for sale. It’s one of the earliest examples of the “promoter.” Product placement and guerrilla marketing all seem like fairly modern concepts — far removed from the ‘60s Mad Men era of big advertising. But store-owners in late-19 th century New York understood the same basic concept that drives product promotion today: the personal touch sells. The man who talked you into entering that shop was hired by its proprietor to do just that. He wasn’t the only person in the city being used to drive up business. The owners of the stale-beer dives that filled the tenements of New York’s urban poor would permit tramps to temporarily inhabit their establishments on cold nights. The shivering “sitters” attracted the sympathy of passers-by, who could be counted upon to buy the tramps some of the dive-bar’s particular brand of alcohol. The tramps were “hired” on cycles, and owners made them move out of the beer bars at intervals to ensure fresh faces for the walking public to pity. Just like the beer bar owners of New York City, the Marlboro Connectors made sure they “sampled” to as wide a spectrum of people as possible. “I would see to it that I wasn’t oversampling, because you need to keep a count on how much you’re sampling,” notes Vanessa. “You can’t oversample, and you can’t sample to the same person a million times.” Still, there was certainly no shortage of cigarettes. “They would give me two cartons a month, and whenever my stock was over, I had to go ask for more,” says Vanessa. But the Connectors did have to meet certain minimum goals. “In a month we had to reach a certain target, which was 100 cigarettes, and in December, it was 150. “If you met your target for the month, you would get the entire salary,” explains Vanessa. “If you sampled to [fewer] people, they would cut it accordingly, according to the number of people you’d missed out on.” The promoters themselves had to meet certain criteria. “You have to be a smoker,” explains Gaurav, an old acquaintance whose free hand with the cigarettes first brought this promotional scheme to my attention. “The clause is that once you start working you cannot be seen in public smoking any other brand except for Marlboros — that’s a serious violation.” But within those boundaries, the Connectors were given the freedom to choose exactly how and when they would work. “We were allowed to take cigarettes as and when we wanted, when we partied,” says Gaurav. “Whenever we went to parties, when we went to clubs — basically anywhere with more than 10 people.” Places where large groups of people congregate are ideal targets for guerrilla marketing. Yonge–Dundas Square in Toronto is one such place. Rain, snow, or shine, Toronto’s answer to the Big Apple’s Times Square is always buzzing. Another constant of the square is that there’s always someone trying to give you something for free. A week’s worth of trips to Dundas Square can save you a lot of money on toiletries and snacks. I’ve picked up a straight razor, lemons, ice cream, and tennis balls among other things, just by sauntering by on my way to and from the Eaton Centre. The people who haunt Dundas Square to give you free stuff aren’t doing it out of the goodness of their hearts. They’re doing it because of that other great principle of marketing: give people things for free, and maybe, just maybe, they’ll like what they get enough to pay for it the next time. That’s particularly true for young people, those aged 18–34, the target audience of most advertising efforts. The campaign I witnessed in Bombay was no different. The Connectors were selected as much for their age as for their smoking status. “They look for young smokers, not exactly 18 but 19, 20, 21, up to 24 — basically below 25 years old,” notes Gaurav. Despite not being a smoker, I fit the target demographic and still ended up being a part of the “campaign.” My face appeared in a number of the pictures taken by the Connectors in an effort to show the company that they were doing their jobs. “We Give people things for free, and maybe, just maybe, they’ll like what they get enough to pay for it the next time. had to take pictures with their faces, because that’s how [the company] knew whether they were legal-age smokers or not,” explains Vanessa. But here’s the funny part: most people don’t think advertising works, at least not on them. Sure, they see the TV ads and they take the free swag, but they assume the product choices they make have nothing to do with marketing or promotion. The marketers behind Red Bull certainly don’t agree. If there’s one company that’s associated with marketing in the modern age, it’s the Austrian energy drink manufacturer, whose logo adorns everything from Formula One cars to soccer jerseys and extreme sports events. Celebrities and athletes including rapper Eminem and NFL player Reggie Bush have endorsed the brand. But Red Bull’s most effective strategy is probably the personal touch: Red Bull cars and Red Bull girls. CONTINUED ON P21 MARCH 19, 2012 19
What makes a city move? A history of Toronto by its most influential movements by MICHAEL “ANGEL” VU and CHONGWONG SHAKUR The recipe is simple: friends meet over food, satisfying their biological urges while talking, ambitions and insecurities are thrown into the mix, and by some magic, the inertia that often dampens human imagination is overcome. The place can be any place, as long as it is one — cyberspace will not do. You need physical proximity for the ideas to flow. Toronto has its share of legendary nooks and crannies, where quintessentially Canadian narratives have emerged. 1 1908: The Group of Seven 36½ King St. East The room above the Brown Betty Restaurant Suppertime “Toronto has arts, but no Art,” says a man in a little room of yesteryear, above the Brown Betty Restaurant on King Street. Others listen on over their steak-and-pancake portions. Art and patriotism spew out between mouthfuls as they encourage each other to speak against the artistic constraints of European naturalism. In attendance are J.E.H. MacDonald, Arthur Lismer, and Tom Thomson, who met as commercial artists working at the design firm Grip Ltd. They share a vision: Canadian artists should organize and find their own direction to express the unique territory of this young country. From here they begin taking weekend trips to Algonquin, Algoma, along the Georgian Bay, developing a style that will mark their future fame as founders of the Group of Seven. Great Careers don’t just happen – they’re planned. My Plan Worked. My goal is to complete my master’s in online journalism. Loyalist’s post-grad Sports Journalism program helped me develop the academic writing skills I’d learned while completing my English degree into a professional journalistic style. My plan worked. I’m now in New York studying at Syracuse University – thank you Loyalist. Kristen Sports Journalism 2011 What’s your plan? For information on how Loyalist’s post-graduate Sports Journalism program can enhance your degree visit loyalistcollege.com/postgrad Jane Harrison jharrison@loyalistc.on.ca 1-888-LOYALIST ext. 2437 TTY: (613) 962-0633 Wallbridge-Loyalist Road, Belleville 20 the VARSItY magazine 2 1952: The Toronto School of Communications 100 Queens Park Basement coffee shop in the Royal Ontario Museum Most weekdays, 4 pm A group of friends gathers most weekdays at the coffee shop in the basement of the Royal Ontario Museum. Among the regulars are the anthropologist and filmmaker Ted Carpenter, the artist and curator Harley Parker, the political economists Harold Innis and Tom Easterbrook, and the then little-known English professor Marshall McLuhan. They converse freely and throw around theories about radio and television. They suspect that these disruptive new media technologies are having an effect on society as well as the psychology of individuals. This decade-long interdisciplinary exchange of ideas culminates in the publication of The Gutenberg Galaxy by McLuhan in 1962, which popularizes what comes to be known as the Toronto School of Communications. In The Gutenberg Galaxy, McLuhan follows the work of Innis in positing that not only radio and television but all forms of media — especially print media — influence how we view the world through our senses. 3 1963: Centre for Technology and Culture 39A Queens Park Coach House, St. Michael’s College Mondays, 7 pm The coffee shop group receives an official home with the establishment of the Centre for Technology and Culture. Students flock there every Monday night as McLuhan hosts a seminar in “open mic” format, where ideas bounce around an increasingly star-studded crowd: the likes of John Lennon, Pierre Trudeau, Woody Allen, and Buckminster Fuller. McLuhan offers up koan-like “probe” statements (“The medium is the message!”) designed to provoke discussion and expose the role of electronic media in everyday existence. Overdue international recognition is given to Toronto’s intellectual community, long populated by luminaries such Look for more Toronto movements online at var.st/mindsmeet as Northrop Frye, McLuhan’s long-standing rival. After his popularity wanes in the 1970s, McLuhan’s work is rediscovered with the advent of the Internet, a development which he had anticipated decades in advance. 4 1965: Hippie-filled Yorkville 134 Yorkville Ave. The Riverboat Coffeehouse Nighttime In the 1960s, Canadian musicians hailing from places like Orillia and Regina — many of whom would later achieve international fame — were incubating in cheap-to-rent row houses in Yorkville. Bohemian types formed a lively artistic community, and folk-singers were hosted at the numerous coffeehouses (one popular spot being The Riverboat) and art galleries that lined Yorkville Avenue. If you knew what you were looking for, you could catch a pre-fame Joni Mitchell busking in the street, Gordon Lightfoot playing to customers at Fran’s, or perhaps even The Mynah Birds, featuring both Neil Young and Rick James. These future singer-songwriters would also gather to the south on Yonge Street, where blues and rock bands — such as the future members of The Band — were playing in taverns like Le Coq D’Or and The Zanzibar. In 1965, the musicians in Yorkville did not have a sense of being a “movement” in Canadian music. They were simply perfecting their craft together, making ends meet, and nursing their grand ambitions. By the 1970s, the low rents which had attracted coffee shop owners to Yorkville in the first place began to rise as developers bought up housing on Yorkville Avenue. As the Yorkville scene disintegrated, musicians sought better opportunities in America. It is during this period that Canadian folk and rock music broke into the American market for the first time, beginning with The Guess Who (with “These Eyes” in 1969) and Gordon Lightfoot (“If You Could Read My Mind” in 1970), followed by Neil Young (as part of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young) and Joni Mitchell (culminating with her critically acclaimed album Blue in 1971). 2 3 4 1
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Page 3 and 4: THE VARSITY THE STUDENT NEWSPAPER T
Page 5 and 6: Cleaning up Toronto’s expert in S
Page 7 and 8: Let them eat pie Wanda Beaver of Wa
Page 9 and 10: The only game in town How ZED.TO, a
Page 11 and 12: Shortages in the Albertan labour ma
Page 13 and 14: JJ: Going to Chinatown. My mom work
Page 15 and 16: An ode to King Street East, before
Page 17: 18 the VARSItY magazine Smoke & mir
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Page 27: Around the world by Catherine Fried

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