SOME DEAD CELEBS ARE MAKING A KILLING

Have you been paying attention to television and print ads recently? They are filled with the images and voices of dead celebrities. Our cultural icons are rising from the grave to endorse a variety of products and services.

I have seen Fred Astaire dancing with a Dirt Devil vacuum (what must Ginger Rogers be thinking?), Einstein endorsing Apple computers and Humphrey Bogart hawking furniture. Heck, if Elvis had been this busy during life, he might never have grown fat and drug dependent.

It’s only a matter of time before we see the late Wilt Chamberlain, who claimed to have bedded over 10,000 women, endorsing a line of mattresses so comfortable that, “had they been around back then, I might have done twenty thousand.” Or the recently-departed Ted Williams, a proponent of cryogenics, hawking a premium line of refrigerator-freezers.

Licensing the image of dead celebrities has become such big business, one talent agency -- CMG Worldwide -- works almost exclusively with the dearly departed. Who can blame them. Their clients are never late for work and don’t sully their reputations by getting caught in compromising situations. The president of CMG was quoted recently as saying, “You can count on our clients.”

The last few years, Forbes magazine has published a list of the top-earning dead celebrities. To make the most recent list, a deceased star’s estate had to rake in at least $5 million. Of course, the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll is also king of this competition. Here are the top five:

Elvis - $37 million
Charles Schulz - $28 million
John Lennon - $20 million
Dale Earnhardt - $20 million
Dr. Seuss (Theodor Geisel) - $19 million

Dead sports figures have proven especially effective. With recent technological advances, Babe Ruth has now appeared in a number of television commercials. As NPR’s Bob Garfield recently said, “While dead baseball players can no longer hit, they can still pitch.”

What this disturbing phenomenon points out is that everything in our culture is for sale. Police departments are now selling advertising space on the sides of police cars ("This arrest brought to you by Tony's Spas!"). And the people who control a deceased celeb’s estate -- typically his or her talentless heirs -- jump at the chance to exploit the dead icon’s image in order to cash in. Of course, there is no shortage of companies willing to pay for such “ghost” rights.

Personally, I don’t believe all of this commercialism is a good thing. It often tarnishes our memories, making our idols seem almost mundane. Even worse, their achievements lose some of their luster.

This is problematic because it’s important that we have heroes. In many cases, they serve as examples of what can be accomplished when people chase after their dreams or stand up for what’s right. So what happens when a sports legend shows up to posthumously pitch adult diapers because “they would have made me a winner in my later years.” I don’t know for sure, but I’m betting it stinks.

This crass commercialism also leads to concerns over where advertisers and heirs will draw the line, assuming they have any inclination to do so. Will any of our heroes remain sancrosanct?

For instance, it is not a stretch to think we might soon be seeing the following commercials:

John Wayne -- the “Duke” -- holding a donut and saying, “I’m not gonna eat you. I’m not gonna eat you. I’m not gonna eat you -- the hell I’m not!” Followed by a computer-generated chomp.

Dr. Martin Luther King endorsing a new brand of sleeping pills because “they help me to have a dream.”

Moses endorsing a particular cruise line because their ships ride so comfortably “they almost seem to part the seas.”

Jesus standing outside a restaurant chain, wishing “they could have made my last supper.”

Each of these examples reflects very poor taste, but the sad truth is they are not that far-fetched. It may only be a matter of time before the line is crossed, before commercialism wins out over honor and dignity, before all of our dead heroes become 21st Century pitchmen.

As I sit here staring at the computer screen, waiting for my dancing Elvis screensaver to flick on, I hope it doesn’t happen.

(c) Marc L. Prey 2002
All rights reserved.