One-Mcm Sales Force

One moment he was sitting before a microphone, rolling out deep, sonorous, persuasive words. The next, he was hurrying (with all the speed his hulking frame could muster) to a waiting elevator, then to a small room where a battery of telephones and telephone girls awaited him. All day, all evening long, at NBC's Manhattan station WEAF, Cinemactor Charles Laughton kept up the pace--from 7:30 a.m. until after midnight--17 hours. His purpose: to sell war bonds. His method: to break into a program with a brief appeal, an offer to answer all telephone calls personally.

Cinemactor Laughton steered clear of time-honored bond-sales methods (autograph offers, talk about the best investment in the world, etc.). Instead, he hammered at one theme: U.S. apathy and complacency. He told of sailors who had been through blood, filth and hell, who were then obliged to bumble and fluff on bond-rally platforms "because you were not buying bonds." He branded it "one of the most disgraceful things I have ever seen."

Orders poured in. By midafternoon three telephones allotted to receive them had to be increased to six. By nightfall, Laughton's voice was raspy, his face baggy, his eyes bloodshot. At midnight he still had 80 bond-buyers to thank. His gross sales: $301,900.

One woman suspected that Laughton's voice was a recording, phoned to say so. Bellowed Cinemactor Laughton: -"Mr. Chrrristian!" Said the woman: "Goodness, Captain Bligh! It really is you. Give me two $1,000 bonds."

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