From Pester Power to Saying it Straight: A report into the evolution of McDonald's advertising approach to The Family.

Via the analysis of three television commercials from three different decades, this report will attempt to chart the growth of the McDonald’s image in the way it addresses its audience: namely, who it is targeting at each time, and how. McDonald’s have always known that their way into the hearts of the world was through children’s stomachs (or the child inside all of us). But over time, we shall see that McDonald’s learned that children don’t exist in a vacuum. All the ‘Pester Power’ in the world isn't going to be much help, unless you can also convince the parents that McDonald’s makes sense.

1963, McDonald's first TV ad, introducing Ronald McDonald: Opening the ad with an introduction of the “newest, silliest & hamburger-eating-est (sic) clown”, this commercial is obviously not aimed at adults. ‘Pester Power’ may be a marketing buzz word of the modern age, but we should keep in mind that targeting children directly was a new approach for a family restaurant at the time. So exclusively marketed at children is this example, that the pester power factor may hinge entirely on parents not seeing the advertisement, typically played during cartoon broadcasts on weekday afternoons or Saturday mornings. In fact, parents may be understandably horrified by the image of a clown breaking the 4^th wall, only to then loiter in the dark and watch their children via closed-circuit TV.

Everything in this commercial is aimed at collectability:  his hat & silly nose are made from a McDonald’s box & cup, just like the kids will be able to get if they convince their parents to visit the golden arches. Ronald’s “magic tray keeps (him) well supplied”, implying that collecting doesn’t subtract, but instead breeds abundance.  Finally, Ronald McDonald leaves children with a promise, and a quest: “Watch for me on TV; we’ll have lots of fun.” They now have a mission, and all they have to do is watch television –which they were going to do anyway- and which this strange clown validates, assuring them it’s fun. After all, he should know; he’s on TV. Of course, this mission has a secondary objective, an ulterior motive: for kids to convince their parents to take them to McDonald’s. It is noteworthy that that the current masters of pester power advertising were also instrumental in its invention. Willard Scott (who had previously been Bozo The Clown) portrayed Ronald for many years and, in his autobiography, claims to have invented the character outright. Let us all refrain from blaming him for the creepy out-of-context dialogue in the ad.

1967, Your Kind of Place: This commercial opens on a catchy ditty, sung by a choir of chirping children. McDonald’s are obviously still aiming their image at kids. It’s no surprise that McDonalds have also updated their methods; now we have colour animation turning kids into cartoons. Transcending the ‘collecting’ theme of the previous example (they’ll save that for when the kids are in the store, or when the Happy Meal is released in 1979), the genius of the jingle lies in its interactivity: children can clap along with the commercial. And it may be the sound of this strange, enthusiastic behavior that may provide enough commotion for the stay-at-home Mum to come out of the kitchen to see what is going on. Whether or not she is in the room in time to hear the part of the jingle meant for her: “A clean & snappy place” (not to mention the striking image of a clean & snappy striking young man in a McDonald’s uniform), the rest of the ad will bait her values. Everything after the image of the shaggy dog (a final money shot for the kids) is aimed at mothers & caregivers, with a promised list of “pluses”: spill-proof lids & napkins “as big as a bib”. Double-plus good, as Orwell said. The emotional hook is made through the colourfully kinetic joy of the children. That emotion is rationalized all the way to the point of purchase with solutions to the parent’s concern about the practical problems of a public family meal.

McDonalds have honed their skills in wielding Pester Power. From this commercial, it seems they now understand there is no point convincing children alone if, in the end, it is the parents who are going to bring them. If we could go back to 1967, we could see the moment where Pester Power transcends into a more rational appeal for parents: that time that the jingle plays on the television the day after a satisfactory family visit to McDonald’s. The mother in the kitchen hears the child singing along that McDonald’s is his kind of place, and she recognizes that instantly as a place of “Quality, cleanliness & extra-care service”. The jump from a call-to-action inviting her to an easy dinner, to a brand association that McDonald’s can be an ongoing happy haven for her family. The whole family unit is tuned into the jingle now, with the parting words of the ad’s jingle in the matter-of-fact reassuring voice instead of the childish tune: “It’s your kind of place”.

Countercultural artist Ron English is a master of his medium. Only by achieving the skill of an old master is he able to reproduce the plastique cleanliness of the very pop culture he is parodying, with the painstaking use of oil paints.

When Morgan Spurlock’s Super Size Me came out in 2004, only a few national McDonald’s bodies responded explicitly. McDonald’s UK put a title card between trailers before all Super Size Me screenings, suggesting viewers visit a website with the tagline: “The debate: See what we disagree with. See what we agree with.” McDonald’s Australia went even further, producing three separate TV spots in which the Macca’s Australia CEO directly addresses the audience to reassure them. In a suit & tie, inside a typical McDonald’s restaurant, Charlie Hamilton Bell gets straight to the point. He mentions the film, but doesn't name it; he wants to dismiss the movie, not advertise it further. In an attempt to dispel the claim that we can’t eat Macca’s for every meal of every day, he holds his hands open with a satisfied smirk, stating clearly & cleanly, “Hey, we could’ve told you that.”

There are no bells & whistles here, or rather the fact that they’re not ringing is being put in front of us. Directly addressing the camera when you’re a silly clown is one thing. Bringing out the wizard behind the curtain, the suit behind the scenes, is another thing entirely. The gamble paid off: McDonald’s Australia saw only a negligible drop in sales due to the release of Morgan Spurlock’s documentary. Bell’s push for a generally healthier menu –and for the option for parents to replace fries & soda with fruit juice & apple slices- led to a completely different direction for McDonald’s Australia. When Charles Hamilton Bell implemented the incredibly successful McCafe additions, he was promoted to global CEO for a short time until his death. But the success of Bell’s response to the Super Size Me controversy was in evolving the same sentiment that had turned that initial Pester Power of 1963 into the family friendly haven of a few years later. Bell’s insight was to realize that in cutting the crap & addressing the public directly, he could invite viewers at home into the McDonald’s family. We are with you, and you are with us. We’re not going to ask you to not listen to our detractors, but we want you to know that we’ll listen to you, and we are here for your family.

/mr_metaphor.