Little Devils

When Madison Avenue was a (Little) Boys' Club

Mason Reese, the child who made other children beg their mothers to buy canned meat spreads, on the cover of TV Guide. December, 1973.

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In the early 1970s, Madison Avenue wasn’t just a boys’ club, it was a little boys’ club. For reasons likely beyond my understanding, male children as young as three years old dominated American advertising.

John Gilchrist, better known as “Mikey” from Life Cereal, was one such three-year-old when he filmed his iconic commercial. It first aired in 1972 and ran more or less uninterrupted until 1986, tormenting little boys named Michael across the U.S. and Canada with the words “He likes it! Hey, Mikey!” for the duration of their childhood.

Reader, I was one of those Michaels, and I was saddened to learn the rumors of his death by Pop Rocks and Coca-Cola misadventure proved to be false.

Gilchrist as “Mikey”. My mother once got his autograph on a plane when I was a boy. I crumpled it up and handed it to the stewardess along with the rest of my garbage.

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Another heavy hitter was four-year-old Andy Lambros, who taught us how to spell the first and second name of his preferred luncheon meat with a song every Gen Xer who came within twenty feet of a television during their childhood can probably still sing.

Andy “One Take” Lambros, multitasking.

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Even more well known was pre-schooler Rodney Allen Rippy, who starred in a series of commercials for Jack in the Box, proclaiming their Jumbo Jack “too big too eat!” Rippy was so well known, he later played himself as the owner of Felix and Oscar’s apartment building in The Odd Couple, and almost cracked the Billboard Hot 100 with his not-quite hit song, “World of Love,” which charted at #112 in 1973.

In 1974, he presented the American Music Award for Best Pop Group (with Michael Jackson and Donny Osmond) before he was old enough to read the names of the winners and played the role of young Sheriff Bart in one of the greatest comedies of all time, Mel Brooks’s Blazing Saddles.

Rodney Allen Rippy, shortly before attempting to get his mouth around a large sandwich filled with meat product.

But the biggest little star of late Nixon-era Madison Avenue was Mason Reese, a child so unusually persuasive, he could sell a Dressel’s Frozen Cake to the Heat Miser, who was famously rumored to have diabetes.

With his red pageboy haircut, lopsided face, and heavy-lidded blue eyes, mothers and grandmothers professed their undying love for this strange looking child. Women would stop him on the streets of Manhattan and ask for strands of his hair so that their hairdressers could match his exact shade of russet. Mike Douglas—the biggest daytime television host of the day—invited Reese on his show twenty-five times, where he interviewed Leonard Nimoy, cried over Harry Chapin, and tap danced while belting “Singin’ in the Rain.”

Reese made the cover of TV Guide, rode a giant inflatable Cootie in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, and starred in the failed ABC pilot Mason.

Mason Reese annoyed that his own (fake) mother had to be told about the money saving miracle of Underwood Deviled Ham.

Post Raisin Bran, Dunkin’ Donuts Munchkins, Ivory Snow detergent, and Matchbox Fighting Furies were just a few of the many products he hawked, but it was the William Underwood Company that made him a star. In his first commercial for the organization, Reese introduces his television mother to Underwood Chicken Spread in an effort to allay boredom during the midday meal, receives a dramatic eye roll from his television sister (the real life sister of John Gilchrist of Life Cereal fame), and causes his television brother to dribble milk from his mouth when he mispronounces the word “smörgåsbord” as “borgåsmörd.”

More Underwood commercials followed, most notably for their Deviled Ham, which prompted grocery stores across the country to feature pyramids of cans wrapped in white paper printed with a little red devil brandishing a pitch fork.

I’m uncertain how well these deviled products sold across the Bible Belt and am wholly unwilling to do the necessary research to find out the answer.

One thing I am willing to do, however, is devil some ham. I found the packaging intriguing as a small boy, but feared what lurked inside.

But I’m made of stronger stuff these days and, with the price of everything rising lately, am attracted to the money saving benefits of a spicy ham salad.

Deviled Ham

No framboises or mangues were harmed in the making if this recipe. I just hope Jamie Schler forgives me for repurposing her jam jars.

Prior to making this recipe, I don’t think I’d deviled anything other than eggs. After, I feel like I could devil just about anything within reach and reason.

The lapsed Catholic in me is relieved to know that deviling has little or nothing to do with Lucifer or one of the other Great Dukes of Hell (which reminds me, Duke’s mayonnaise is perfect for this recipe). Rather, the word refers to making something hot with spices (aka pepper) and condiments (notably: mustard).

The Underwood company has been deviling ham since 1868, which makes their recipe as old as traffic lights, Little Women, and the 14th Amendment.

This is not their recipe. It is mine, which I offer as a mere guideline to creating your very own.

Makes: About 3 cups

Ingredients:

• 2 cups of ham, finely chopped (honey-glazed or smoked is good)
• ½ cup of finely diced onion
• ½ cup of finely diced celery
• 2 tbsps finely chopped parsley
• 1 tbsp finely diced peppers, hot or mild (I had Calabrian chiles on hand)
• 5 tbsp mayonnaise (more or less)
• 1 tbsp Dijon mustard
• 1 tbsp honey
• A few shakes of garlic powder
• A few shakes of Old Bay seasoning
• 1 tsp of cayenne pepper (or paprika for the timid)
• A few shakes of tabasco
• A few shakes of Worcestershire sauce
• Plenty of freshly ground black pepper. Or white. It hardly matters
• Anything else you feel like adding—you’re the one eating it, presumably

Preparation:

1. Finely dice the ham, onion, and celery, and add them to a large mixing bowl. Chopping by hand is preferred to the use of a food processor for textural reasons, but if you are someone who is unable to do sustained chopping, be mindful how you pulse your processor—you don’t want everything to turn into a paste.

2. Next, add diced peppers, parsley, and whatever else suits your fancy to the bowl.

3. Add mayonnaise, mustard, honey, and all your seasonings. Mix well until everything is coated in a spicy, delicious, mayo-ey goo.

4. It may be eaten immediately, but is best if covered and refrigerated overnight, so that the flavors have enough time to get to know each other.

5. Serve it on Ritz crackers, use it as a sandwich filling with some thinly sliced radish or lettuce or something else fresh and crunchy, or find some other, creative use for it. My daredevil readers might chose to use it as an edible face mask (Note: swimming goggles will keep unwanted spicy ham from irritating one’s delicate eyeballs). If you’ve discovered any other novel uses for deviled ham, please let me know in the comment section below.

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