By Bill Shein
June 30, 2031
“[One Lenox resident] told the Selectmen that the slogan is dividing the town.” – From “Criticism of Lenoxology marketing plan continues,” Berkshire Eagle, June 25
Sometimes it’s funny how things work out, you know? I mean, here we are, in the year 2031, enjoying our flying cars and telepathic InterGoogWeb service and coping with summer temperatures that often reach 140 degrees. (You were right, Bill McKibben! We cooked our own goose!) And the town of Lenox? It’s doing great.
One of those "Entering Lenox" street signs, seen here in the year 2031 with a "Lenoxology" reference.
And yet it was just 20 years ago that the little town of Lenox, in what used to be called Berkshire County – long since renamed “Manhattan North” – began a discussion about how to increase tourism to the historic village.
Remember that back in 2011, the local economic picture was grim. Many Lenoxites were rightly concerned. Was the town’s economic base diverse enough? Might a newfangled “marketing and public relations campaign” attract additional tourism dollars? Soon a committee was formed, options were reviewed, proposals were considered, and action was taken.
And then all hell broke loose.
Given today’s problems (see, “summer temperatures that often reach 140 degrees,” above), the challenge of increasing local tourism seems like a cute little problem to have. Ah, to live again in those simpler times, when aquifers were free of hydrofracking fluid and Worcester wasn’t a town on the Atlantic seaboard!
So here’s what Lenox did: First, a number of what used to be called “marketing consultants” were interviewed. A New York City-based firm was chosen. Using the tools of its trade – fancy-sounding but largely inexplicable blather, flashy PowerPoint presentations, headache-inducing charts and graphs – it convinced the town to adopt “Lenoxology” as a “state of mind” slogan.
No one was really sure what a “state of mind” slogan was, but it sounded good. Unclear from the written minutes of 2011 Lenox Select Board meetings – most of which were burned during the Great Lenoxology Riots of 2014 – is whether the firm’s representatives placed something, perhaps fabricated from wool, over the eyes of town officials while making their PowerPoint presentations. Regardless, the Select Board approved the plan, and money began flowing to the firm from town bank accounts.
Immediately, citizens were in an uproar. Angry letters were written to various editors. Street corner conversations turned heated. Old-fashioned fisticuffs broke out. The general atmosphere in Lenox was soon a far cry from the promise of “Lenoxology: A Healing State of Mind™” that was plastered on brochures, banners, Web sites, bumper stickers – and, in an unfortunate move, as permanent tattoos on the foreheads of Select Board members, who sought to show their commitment to the project.
Meanwhile, a prominent local dentist expressed loud unhappiness with “Lenoxology,” appealing to town officials to change course. Not just because of the slogan and campaign itself, but because it was bitterly dividing the townsfolk. Many believed that wrapping an historic New England town in marketing mumbo-jumbo was a terrible decision, and one unbecoming of its rich history.
Of course, chasing tourism and weekender dollars continued to raise the price of everything, from housing, to meals at local restaurants, and even to a cup of what used to be called “coffee” – since renamed, by controversial order of the Select Board, as “Lenoxology Juice.” Old-timers complained that the Lenox of their youth was disappearing. Not only could you not get a cup of coffee for a quarter any more, you couldn’t even call it “coffee.” Sheesh.
The campaign’s focus on holding “on-brand” events in Lenox only made things worse. The official “Lenoxology” marketing plan actually said, “These events will be evaluated as to whether they enhance the Lenox brand, attract the profile of potential visitors and help create a ‘positive buzz’ about Lenox and its offerings.” Activities in Lenox were now determined based on a marketing plan? That was just too much for many residents to tolerate. It’s one thing to try to attract tourism; it’s another to change the character of a town to comport with a marketing consultant’s slogan.
That dentist, a proud Lenoxian, took action the only way he knew how: By refusing to provide dental care to the citizens of Lenox. It was his version of civil disobedience. Nothing personal, mind you, but he felt something had to be done. Soon, other Lenox dentists joined him, and it became virtually impossible to get dental care anywhere in Lenox. Showing solidarity, dentists across the region refused patients from Lenox.
Needless to say, rampant gum disease, tooth decay, and the resulting epidemic of horrifically bad breath was not good for tourism. An unpleasant cloud of halitosis hung over the town. That New York City marketing firm scrambled to save its lucrative contract, labeling the smell “an authentic odor of colonial New England,” but it didn’t work. Tourism all but vanished.
What few remember, of course, is that “Lenoxology” was chosen from a menu of even-worse choices. The finalists incluced: “Lenox: Better than a Punch in the Face!” and “Lenox: It’s Tangly and Woody and James Taylor Lives Nearby” and “Check Out Lenox, Where Nathaniel Hawthorne Once Lived for 18 Months! Seriously, He Did! Why Would We Lie?”
And who could blame Lenox? The early part of this century was the heyday of “branding,” a disturbing practice of trying to link ideas and emotions in human beings in ways that aren’t rational, but rather, profitable. Few saw anything wrong with efforts to bypass intellect and reason in the name of economics, or to soften the edges of reality with “public relations” if it meant financial rewards.
Today, of course, we know better.
And that’s the biggest irony. “Lenoxology” did secure the town’s economic future. But not as intended. No, what brings busloads of tourists to Lenox these days are the tours, conventions, and lectures that highlight the battles, literal and figurative, of the Lenoxology Wars of 2011-2014.
As the world now knows, “Lenoxology” was the spark that began a movement away from the preposterousness of branding as a human pursuit. It revealed how unnatural and destructive it had become. But at the time, branding was so widespread that we failed to see the way it demeaned thinking human beings, manipulating them for commercial ends. People even talked – with a straight face! – about “enhancing their personal brand.” Whoa.
Last week I went to the 10th anniversary celebration of The Museum of Lenoxology, that fabulous destination that brings the world to Lenox to review the lessons learned. The irony is rich – as is the Town of Lenox, once again.
And those Select Board members who approved the plan? Well, they’re doing just fine. In fact, they earn $20 a pop to pose with tourists – who, nine times out of 10, point to those faded forehead “Lenoxology” tattoos and just chuckle.
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Bill Shein’s “personal brand” is carefully managed by a team of New York City marketing consultants for an outrageous monthly retainer.