Number of words: 601<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the early summer of 1967, Banzhaf dashed off a letter to the Federal Communications Commission (the agency responsible for enforcing the fairness doctrine) complaining that a New York TV station was dedicating disproportional airtime to tobacco commercials with no opposing antitobacco commercials. The complaint was so unusual that Banzhaf, then on a four-week cruise, expected no substantial response. But Banzhaf\u2019s letter had landed, surprisingly, on sympathetic ears. The FCC\u2019s general counsel, Henry Geller, an ambitious reformer with a long-standing interest in public-interest broadcasting, had privately been investigating the possibility of attacking tobacco advertising. When Banzhaf returned from the Bahamas, he found a letter from Geller:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe advertisements in question clearly promote the use of a particular cigarette as attractive and enjoyable. Indeed, they understandably have no other purpose. We believe that a station which presents such advertisements has the duty of informing its audience of the other side of this controversial issue of public importance\u2014that, however enjoyable, such smoking may be a hazard to the smoker\u2019s health.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
With Geller\u2019s consent, Banzhaf filed his case against the TV station in court. Predictably, tobacco companies protested vociferously, arguing that legal action of this sort would have a chilling effect on free speech and vowing to fight the case to its bitter end. Faced with the prospect of a prolonged court battle, Banzhaf approached the American Cancer Society, the American Lung Association, and several other public health organizations for support. In all cases, he was rebuffed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Banzhaf chose to go to trial anyway. Dragged into court in 1968, he squared off against \u201ca squadron of the best-paid lawyers in the country, row after row of them in pinstripe suits and cuff links\u201d\u2014and, to the utter shock of the tobacco industry, won his case. The court held that \u201cproportional airtime\u201d had to be given to protobacco and antitobacco advertising. The FCC and Geller leapt back into the arena. In February 1969, the commission issued a public announcement that it would rigorously police the \u201cproportional airtime\u201d clause and, given the public-health hazard of tobacco, seek to ban cigarette commercials from television altogether. Tobacco makers appealed and reappealed the Banzhaf decision, but the Supreme Court refused to hear the case, letting the decision stand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The industry tried to mount an aggressive countercampaign. An unpublicized internal report drawn up in 1969 to respond to the looming threat of the FCC advertising ban concluded, \u201cDoubt is our product, since it is the best means of competing with the \u2018body of fact.\u2019\u201d But antismoking advocates had also learned the tricks of the trade; if tobacco sellers had \u201cdoubt\u201d to sow into public minds, then tobacco opponents had something just as visceral: fear\u2014in particular, fear of the ultimate illness. A barrage of antismoking commercials appeared on television. In 1968, a worn and skeletal-looking William Talman, a veteran actor and former smoker, announced in a prime-time advertisement that he was dying from lung cancer. Narcotized on painkilling medicines, his words slurring, Talman nonetheless had a clear message for the public: \u201cIf you do smoke\u2014quit. Don\u2019t be a loser.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In late 1970, faced with the daily brunt of negative publicity, tobacco makers voluntarily withdrew cigarette advertising from broadcast media (thus nullifying the need for a proportional representation of antitobacco commercials). The last cigarette commercial was broadcast on television on January 1, 1971. At 11:59 p.m., on the first night of the New Year, the Virginia Slims slogan You\u2019ve come a long way, baby flashed momentarily on TV screens, then vanished forever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Excerpted from pages 265-267 of \u2018The Emperor of All Maladies: A biography of Cancer\u2019 by Siddharth Mukherjee<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n In the early summer of 1967, Banzhaf dashed off a letter to the Federal Communications Commission (the agency responsible for enforcing the fairness doctrine) complaining that a New York TV station was dedicating disproportional airtime to tobacco commercials with no opposing antitobacco commercials. The complaint was so unusual that Banzhaf, then on a four-week cruise, expected no substantial response. But Banzhaf\u2019s letter had landed, surprisingly, on sympathetic ears. The FCC\u2019s general counsel, Henry Geller, an ambitious reformer with a long-standing interest in public-interest broadcasting, had privately been investigating the possibility of attacking tobacco advertising. When Banzhaf returned from the Bahamas, he found a letter from Geller:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe advertisements in question clearly promote the use of a particular cigarette as attractive and enjoyable. Indeed, they understandably have no other purpose. We believe that a station which presents such advertisements has the duty of informing its audience of the other side of this controversial issue of public importance\u2014that, however enjoyable, such smoking may be a hazard to the smoker\u2019s health.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n With Geller\u2019s consent, Banzhaf filed his case against the TV station in court. Predictably, tobacco companies protested vociferously, arguing that legal action of this sort would have a chilling effect on free speech and vowing to fight the case to its bitter end. Faced with the prospect of a prolonged court battle, Banzhaf approached the American Cancer Society, the American Lung Association, and several other public health organizations for support. In all cases, he was rebuffed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Banzhaf chose to go to trial anyway. Dragged into court in 1968, he squared off against \u201ca squadron of the best-paid lawyers in the country, row after row of them in pinstripe suits and cuff links\u201d\u2014and, to the utter shock of the tobacco industry, won his case. The court held that \u201cproportional airtime\u201d had to be given to protobacco and antitobacco advertising. The FCC and Geller leapt back into the arena. In February 1969, the commission issued a public announcement that it would rigorously police the \u201cproportional airtime\u201d clause and, given the public-health hazard of tobacco, seek to ban cigarette commercials from television altogether. Tobacco makers appealed and reappealed the Banzhaf decision, but the Supreme Court refused to hear the case, letting the decision stand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The industry tried to mount an aggressive countercampaign. An unpublicized internal report drawn up in 1969 to respond to the looming threat of the FCC advertising ban concluded, \u201cDoubt is our product, since it is the best means of competing with the \u2018body of fact.\u2019\u201d But antismoking advocates had also learned the tricks of the trade; if tobacco sellers had \u201cdoubt\u201d to sow into public minds, then tobacco opponents had something just as visceral: fear\u2014in particular, fear of the ultimate illness. A barrage of antismoking commercials appeared on television. In 1968, a worn and skeletal-looking William Talman, a veteran actor and former smoker, announced in a prime-time advertisement that he was dying from lung cancer. Narcotized on painkilling medicines, his words slurring, Talman nonetheless had a clear message for the public: \u201cIf you do smoke\u2014quit. Don\u2019t be a loser.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n In late 1970, faced with the daily brunt of negative publicity, tobacco makers voluntarily withdrew cigarette advertising from broadcast media (thus nullifying the need for a proportional representation of antitobacco commercials). The last cigarette commercial was broadcast on television on January 1, 1971. At 11:59 p.m., on the first night of the New Year, the Virginia Slims slogan You\u2019ve come a long way, baby flashed momentarily on TV screens, then vanished forever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n