Spin Doctoring in Monterey Bay

A side-by-side comparison of communication in the 1600s and communication in 2012 would, of course, reveal striking differences. But just because colonizers and explorers relied on written communication and a spotty delivery system doesn’t mean that what they communicated was much different than what we send out via text messages, emails, and tweets. Historical evidence suggests that they could teach us a thing or two about marketing.

Take, for instance, one Sebastian Vizcaíno, a Spanish explorer. On December 16, 1602, he led three Spanish ships round today’s Point Pinos and entered a harbor, which Vizcaíno named after his patron — the viceroy of Mexico, Don Gaspár de Zúñiga y Acevedo, Count of Monte Rey. What we know today as Monterey Bay was an inhospitable place for Vizcaíno and his men, even in comparison to an arduous seven-month voyage. Fog and freezing cold served for a welcoming committee: no people were to be seen. Vizcaíno found an abandoned village nearby and assumed that the locals had moved inland for the season, seeking refuge from the cold. Whatever the reasons, the Monterey area was as uninviting and uninhabited a place as any imaginable in January of 1603. That is what Vizcaíno saw.

What he reported upon his return to Acapulco was quite different. Culleton explains:

Vizcaíno had been sent to find a good port. He located but two worthy of any name and he pictured one of them as perfect. To attract the Church, he peopled Monterey with numberless ideal Indians though he saw but one deserted rancheria. To entice colonists, he spoke of much fertile land while he stood on sand overlooked by mountains. While numb with cold he wrote that the climate was like Seville’s… So untrue was this picture that Portolá and Crespi [in 1769] failed to recognize the place.

Passing no judgement on poor, cold Vizcaíno, it is at least safe to say that his account of the area was misleading. In our day, he would be sued for false advertising and would likely become the subject of late night show comedy sketches.

Foiled by a French Chef

Some say the devil is in the details, and the history of one small city in Alabama may just prove them right. The fortunes of this city—once considered equal to Chicago, Illinois in terms of promise—may have been decided by one thing: someone’s decision to hire a French chef.

It was 1836, and a New York City newspaper named Wetumpka, Alabama and Chicago, Illinois the “most promising two cities of the West.” I know what you’re thinking: Alabama was a western state? But at that time, Alabama really was at the western edge of the United States (only Illinois, Mississippi, Missouri, and Louisiana were more western, and apparently New Orleans wasn’t particularly impressive yet). Questions of geography notwithstanding, this declaration does make one wonder…how could a city of such promise slip into relative obscurity? 

Cue the French chef. In the early 19th century, the balance of power in Alabama was shifting and those wielding the power wanted the state capital moved to a location that reflected the increasing power and wealth of the southern and central parts of the state (the former capital was Huntsville and a temporary capital had been established in Tuscaloosa).

Two cities were the contenders: Wetumpka and Montgomery. Through most of the campaign, neither city had an advantage over the other—support from the representatives who would decide the matter was effectively split evenly between the two. But then, just before the vote, Montgomery convinced an expensive French chef to work for the hotel that the city built to accommodate the representatives if Montgomery became the capital. Elegant menus were distributed to those who would vote. The lure of fine French cuisine swayed the vote and Montgomery became the capital. 

Of course, it may be wrong to lay all the blame at the feet of the French chef. Within a year of the loss of the state captial-ship, Wetumpka suffered a devastating fire. The economic ravishes of the Civil War added to Wetumpka’s difficulties. The proverbial “final straw” was a crushing flood that washed away bridges and much of the city’s infrastructure. 

I guess this means we shouldn’t laugh at students who run for office in their schools with the campaign platform of better cafeteria food. And if you read this and are planning a bid for student body president, the lesson is clear: go French.