April 22, 2006
Gigantic electronic traffic billboards captivate me, but not as much as did the enthralling Burma Shave signs of my youth.
I must confess that I sometimes wonder if these billboards of late will talk to me because I could swear that the Burma Shave signs of the 50’s did.
A modern electronic interactive billboard spoke to actor Steve Martin on one occasion, so why not you or me?
Remember the movie, L.A. Story? Steve Martin, playing a crazy Los Angeles television weatherman, stopped along a busy California freeway to read an electronic message, apparently preordained just for him.
In the real world, such signs are meant to offer only driving advice and nothing else as we motor along in city traffic trying our very best to negotiate a maze of highways, clover-leaf exits, and multiple lanes.
No time to dwell too long on the messages, though. Traffic is moving fast.
Certainly I appreciate these message boards, but I cannot help but wonder what they could “really” say to me.
So far, they are not speaking.
Traffic engineers explain that the billboards are designed to warn us and tell us to be careful because there is an accident here or construction there, to watch out for ramps that are closed, and to follow detour directions.
Where’s the fun in that?
Most of the time, when I see these electronic posters, all I can think of, since they are not speaking, is that signs today are a far cry from the days of Burma Shave signs that once lined the highways of America.
Traffic moved much slower then, and road travelers had plenty of time to read those delightful Burma Shave signs.
In the mind of a child, they did indeed speak.
No one had even dreamed of the term “interactive” yet.
We did not need interactive signs because Burma Shave signs made long road trips bearable with their simple rhymes and humor.
In the 50’s, my parents drove we kids cross country every summer in a car the size of a boat, with no air conditioning and only an AM radio. When we crossed the desert from Phoenix to San Diego, it was always by night with bags of water tied to the car to cool the radiator.
The main objective of our summer vacation was to visit relatives in California. From Missouri, we traveled the now-storied Route 66 with no idea at all that it was anything other than a long, hot road to Grandma’s.
Along the way, we read Burma Shave signs.
When we spotted those red signs in the distance, everyone in the car paid attention.
We read them out loud in unison.
“Use this cream a day or two. Then don’t call her. She’ll call you,” Burma Shave. Or this one, “These signs we gladly dedicate to men who’ve had no date of late.”
By the time the early 60’s arrived, the Burma Shave signs were about to complete nearly three decades of success.
Antique collectors say that in its prime Burma Shave displayed 7,000 of the bright red signs, usually at least five in a row, to entertain travelers heading west.
Excuse me while I digress.
In those days, I believed that everyone headed west.
For the longest time, I thought all roads ended at the Pacific Ocean or Disneyland anyway.
Humorist Dave Barry once made nearly the same observation, “Just get on any major highway, and eventually it will dead-end in a Disney parking area large enough to have its own climate, populated by large nomadic families who have been trying to find their cars since the Carter administration.”
There is one more thing I might mention.
I have now learned that Burma Shave signs could also be seen when heading east.
Who knew?
Back to Burma Shave jingles I love to remember.
“Past Schoolhouses, take it slow. Let the little shavers grow,” Burma Shave.
Or, “When the stork delivers a boy, our whole darn factory jumps for joy.”
Eventually, Burma Shave signs spread to almost every state with only Massachusetts receiving no signs at all. Too many trees might obstruct the view of signs there, I hear. A few other states had only a handful.
Besides serving as an ingenious advertising tool, Burma Shave signs also offered guidance on societal issues.
“Many a forest used to stand where a lighted match got out of hand,” Burma Shave. And this one, “If daisies are your favorite flower, keep pushin’ up those miles-per-hour.”
At the end of its glorious run in 1963, Burma Shave offered its final rhyme, “Farewell O verse, along the road. How sad to see, you’re out of mode,” Burma Shave.
