The Little World of Orville K. Snav

From the upper reaches of Snav Tower, a corporate monolith in Mason City, Iowa, a veritable fury of executive decisions is issued daily by the President of Orville K. Snav & Associates. His company today is the unrivaled giant in its field, an organization of 1500 top-echelon executives deployed around the world, each holding the rank of Assistant to the President. The major Snav product is the Improved #7 BunaB, which consists of two pieces of insulated wire, each an inch and three quarters long, one red, the other blue, held together at the ends by yellow plastic tape.

During the past four years, some 17,000 people have found the Improved #7 model in their morning mail, packed in a flat clear plastic box and accompanied by a blue explanatory sheet which has this story to tell:

"This genuine Improved #7 BunaB will, with reasonable care, give years of trouble-free service. It has been scientifically inspected and checked against the master model at the factory. The Improved #7 BunaB will meet, or exceed, specifications set up by the industry for accuracy, durability and simplicity of operation ... With a minimum of practice, results equaling those of a skilled technician using the conventional instrument may be expected ... After prolonged use the BunaB may indicate a variation of one or two percent when checked against a new BunaB. In that case, the old one should be discarded immediately."

What does the Improved #7 BunaB do? It does nothing -- physically, that is. But psychologically, it's as miraculous as digital computors or any other of the complex gadgets, of real or dubious import, which crowd our ulcerous machine civilization. Its devotees look upon it as a tiny, clear Bronx cheer aimed at our mechanized age, a parody of rampant technology and its highly touted advantages.

Mr. Snav's BunaB is priced at 48¢, or two for a dollar. Why should anyone pay 48¢ to own a nickel's worth of wire and plastic? Almost no one does. Practically every BunaB is sold as a gag gift. Dave Garroway's last order was for 40. He uses them as "friend testers." So do lots of other people, one of whom reported that the BunaB had unmasked a phony he had long held close to his bosom: the guy read the blue sheet and stoutly maintained he knew what it meant.

Forty units is not a big order at Snav Tower. The Globe Heist Company of Philadelphia ordered 100, the S & S Corrugated Paper Machine Company of Brooklyn, 1700. The BunaB does have a place in American culture, a firm place, according to one psychologist: it catches the eye, piques the curiosity and serves as a reminder of the sender because of its whacky, unusual nature. This is important in an era glutted with almost-as-zany public-relations gimmicks. It satisfies the donor's sense of superiority; he knows what a BunaB is, and the recipient doesn't, at least not right away he doesn't. It's a thoroughly American innovation -- a Frenchman would be baffled or irritated by it but would never find it amusing.

Enclosed with each Improved #7 model is a registration card, stamped with the serial number of the BunaB packed with it and carrying blanks for the name and address of the new owner, his or her business affiliation, and comments on the BunaB. When this card has been returned to Mason City, a long, individually composed letter signed by a gentleman named Al Crowder -- perhaps the nation's most ubiquitous correspondent -- is dispatched to the BunaB donor, who automatically becomes an Assistant to the President. Sometimes, Crowder will end his letter with an ambiguous nicety like "Our Mr. Snav would like to have dinner together next time he is in town." No one has ever had the pleasure.

Who is Orville K. Snav? He is an elusive figure, a shy, retiring man who loathes publicity. He is well known only to Al Crowder, who has been with the company from its beginning, and who some people have the effrontery to think is the real Orville Snav. Mr. Crowder's ranking in the hierarchy -- Assistant to the President -- is not unique, but Crowder has had unusual opportunities to work with the Founder.

"Mr. Snav is a man of strong beliefs," Crowder says. "He believes in first things first, unless interrupted. To have the daring to market a product like the BunaB takes that sort of thinking.

"He's been very shy about accepting tributes and acclaim ever since that episode in Peoria. The publicity affected him deeply. He doesn't like to talk about it at all and I don't either. He was a much younger man then. Now he refuses to have his picture taken and he never goes out. He'd rather send one of his key personnel.

"The only time anyone gets to see Mr. Snav is during our annual affairs at the office. He takes part in these wholeheartedly, because he thinks it's important that everyone in the organization feels happy and contented in his little niche. Not only the Annual New Year's Eve Office Party, which starts November 19th and continues to June 11th, and the annual Fourth of July Picnic, which starts June 20th and dwindles off in November, sometimes overlapping with the New Year's Eve Party, but also our Valentine's Day Pageant, the Bastille Day Celebration and the Burning of the Green Ceremony. His favorite, I believe, is suffragette Susan B. Anthony's birthday, February 15. All day, he fires his little pistol and his shotgun. The Chief has never gotten along with the thought of women traipsing off to the polls on the very day that all the liquor stores are closed. You know, you're stuck in the house with no woman, no liquor. It can be brutal. So he just shoots up Susan's picture on the wall."

Crowder won't talk about his first meeting with Orville K. Snav because it is remotely but inextricably related to the lamentable episode in Peoria. However, he is not reticent about his own past.

"I was born in Louisville, Kentucky. My father worked in a tinder mine. When a man works in a coal mine or a foundry, sometimes there's an odd lump of coal or a freak casting to bring home to the kids, but there's not much like that to be found in a tinder mine, so we didn't have much to play with.

"When I was 16, I went on the road as a banjo player in an orchestra. I traveled as a musician until I was 30. So there went 24 years, the prime of my life. Then I had to go to work for a living. There's not much to look forward to now, but the past has been beautiful."

Today Crowder is in his early fifties. He is a large man with a solemn face. His eyes pierce, under bloused lids, through loose-fitting glasses, and he hardly looks like an executive. He looks more like an astrophysicist or a historian or an accordion teacher. In fact, he is an accordion teacher and he has been one ever since he left the orchestra.

Crowder spends what he calls "50 happy hours a week" at the Carleton Stewart Music Store in Mason City, most of it teaching the accordion. Every Wednesday night at 10 he goes to the radio studios of KGLO to handle the title role in a program called "Grandma's Disk Jockey." These two occupations have little to do with his true life work -- his labors for Orville K. Snav -- although there are those who maintain there is significance in the fact that the BunaB boxes are identical with those in which certain clarinet and saxophone reeds are packed.

Although he can devote only part of his time to Snav Associates, Crowder's tasks there are diverse and demanding. As the company has grown, Crowder has grown with it. "Like many of our big concerns," he says, "the BunaB industry started in a small kitchen laboratory and has flourished mainly through word of mouth. Today its factories occupy part of an eight-square-mile area in the heart of Mason City." This is an ideal location, Crowder believes, because it is halfway between Nebraska and Wisconsin. "Our office space alone occupies 6000 square inches of Snav Tower," Crowder continues. "A lot of people drive by the imposing two-story structure and have no idea of the things that go on inside there. Our Hall of Science adjoins the main laboratory." Crowder is responsible for many phases of BunaB research, production, and even shipping, but it is the voluminous correspondence with satisfied BunaB owners that mainly occupies him. The company's files are kept in notably good order, and at the drop of a name Mr. Crowder can produce comments like these concerning BunaB #7:

Senator Barry Goldwater, Washington, (continued on page 66)Orville K. Snav(continued from page 25) D.C. (Reg. No. 10196) "Absolutely irreplaceable. Use it constantly."

José Ferrer, Ossining, N.Y. (Reg. No. 1230) "Not a toy!"

Harold Fair, Bozell & Jacobs Advertising, New York (Reg. No. 3781) "I have never been more."

George Banks, Kent, England (Reg. No. 2422) "Seems that Americans need a gadget even for pulling legs."

Jules Herbuveaux, Vice-President, NBC, Chicago (Reg. No. 1616) "I recommend it for management teams."

Myrna Loy, New York (Reg. No. 14493) "Absolutely dispensable!"

Jerry Lewis, Hollywood (Reg. No. 5155) "What the hell is it?"

Bennett Cerf, New York (Reg. No. 1595) "I bite. What is it?"

In cases of wide-eyed naiveté, such as Mr. Lewis' and Mr. Cerf's, Crowder has some little difficulty in conveying the news that BunaB is really nothing at all. Consider, for example, a letter from his bulging files:

Office of the Postmaster, United States Post Office, Kansas City 8, Missouri, [In reply refer to 43-JRF-em]

Orville K. Snav & Associates, 121 North Jefferson Street, Mason City, Iowa

Gentlemen:

Patrons of this office have received your "Improved #7 BunaB" and have inquired as to the use for which the article is intended.

It will be appreciated if you will furnish this information.

Yours very truly,

Alex F. Sachs, Postmaster

Crowder's reply was immediate.

Mr. Alex F. Sachs, Postmaster, United States Post Office, Kansas City, Mo.

Dear Postmaster Sachs,

Our President, Mr. Orville K. Snav, was slightly puzzled by the question posed, as each Improved #7 BunaB mailed from our Mason City Plant, Warehouse and Laboratories is accompanied by an Explanatory Sheet (Blue). While we have had some registration cards returned to our office which contained basically the same inquiry (although some have been tinged with a smattering of profanity) yours is the first to be imprinted "Official Business, United States Government."

... Rather than make a long letter of explanation out of this, we are pleased to forward to you, via Parcel Post, one of our #7 models for your inspection and use. We request that you refrain from regarding this presentation as any sort of pay-off or bribe, but merely as a token of good will, in the hope that you will also find many opportunities to save time, effort and expense by confident employment of your BunaB whenever the need for such an instrument is indicated.

Yours sincerely,

Orville K. Snav & Associates, By Al Crowder, Assistant to the President

Postmaster Sach's reply showed a marked change in tone:

Dear Mr. Crowder:

I appreciate your sending me one of your new #7 models, which I am sure will prove satisfactory ...

Very truly yours,

Alex F. Sachs, Postmaster

Caught up in the complexities of a spiraling business economy, Orville K. Snav & Associates, through Crowder, is trying to solve some of the financial problems it has encountered of late.

"In spite of drastic increases in taxes and in costs of raw material," he says, "the unique economics of the BunaB industry -- notably a supply of cheap labor -- has enabled us to maintain our established price for the #7 model of 48¢ each or two for a dollar."

This unconventional price structure, however, seems to invite errors. When a purchaser of a single BunaB remits a 50¢ piece, which all too frequently is the case, Crowder writes:

We have credited your account with the two-cent overpayment, and suggest that you take advantage of this credit within the next 14 months, as all monies found static on our books at the end of that period are automatically transferred to our Sen-Sen fund for the benefit of our employees.

While surpluses go into the employees' Sen-Sen fund, deficits must come out of it, so Crowder jealously watches his accounts. Recently an order came from James R. Miller of the California Institute of Technology with a payment of 12 three-cent stamps. Crowder wrote:

Our President hardly envisioned the dire need for a dependable BunaB at CalTech, but was convinced of it after blowing our fifth and last stand-by No. 5825 RCA tube in our homemade Univac, trying to reconcile the figures 12x3=48. Naturally, our experiments in higher mathematics have been concentrated on improving our product and we have not done as much research in multiplying postage stamps as your distinguished group. Our comptroller insists that we have you on the cuff to the amount of 12¢. Should you send stamps, we would probably receive three purples.

The letter indicated that a carbon copy had gone to the Octopus Collection Agency, a Snav subsidiary.

One of Crowder's larger transactions to date involved a rush order for 100 #7 models, and it involved a production crisis of sorts. But he beat the deadline and submitted the following bill:

100 Improved #7 BunaBs @ .48 ...... $ 48.00

Special rush service (overtime, night crew) 114.29

Grog and entertainment for night crew ...... 387.14

Medical aid for night crew. 6.00

Transportation to Express Co. (cab) ...... .45

Tips for cab driver ...... 18.53

Shipping Cartons (eight 6-pack Pabst) ...... 7.20

Lunch for night shift (slaw, schnitzel, pumpernickel, limburger, Braunschweiger, kartoffle-sal.) ...... 9.88

Baby sitter ...... 6.55

Opium for baby sitter ..... 11.00

$609.04

Less Special Discount for Asst. to Pres ...... 561.04

$ 48.00

The World Is Coming to an End. Please remit promptly, we don't want to have to chase all over Hell for our money.

When a business becomes so big so fast, how, you ask, did it ever get started? "Originally the BunaB was intended," Crowder explains, "for a few select friends. But these friends soon discovered it filled a long-standing need. They began buying BunaBs for their friends, and their friends began buying them for other friends. As a result, we are now world-wide." Crowder has traced a typical genealogical line of the organization's growth:

"Our Mr. Abel Green, who is also the editor of Variety, sent one to our Mr. Meredith Willson, who became an Assistant to the President by sending one to our Mr. José Ferrer, who sent one to our Mr. David C. Garroway. Our Mr. Garroway ordered 40. We shipped 15 and back-ordered 25. One of the people our Mr. Garroway sent a BunaB to was our Mr. Jules Herbuveaux, who runs NBC in Chicago, who sent one to our Mr. Pat Kelly, a peach of a guy, who at the time was with the Crown Crest Stables at Lexington, Kentucky. So, as a result of our Mr. Green originally sending one to our Mr. Willson, we are now in the official stud book. The name 'BunaB' is registered there as the name of a filly. And the whole project has pyramided in that way. Herb Shriner is one of our key personnel, and so are Marc Connelly, Bill Cullen, Deems Taylor, Hugh Downs, Bob and Ray, Garry Moore and Cary Grant.

What of the future? The future of (concluded on page 70)Orville K. Snav(continued from page 66) Snav Associates throbs with rich promise. The research laboratories are busy, and great developments are in work. There is, for example, the Improved #6 BunaB, which omits the registration card but carries the imprint of the thoughtful giver in a translucent etch on the plastic box. "Aside from these modifications," confides Crowder, "the only difference between the #6 and #7 is their similarity."

Another crowning achievement is the BunaB #5, an LP for people who like to have a record on while watching television. The liner notes are models of informative Snavian prose. Side One, they tell us, is for drama, mystery, adventure and afternoon serials, and Side Two for panel shows, interviews, news, weather and sports. "Many fanciful effects," says the liner, "such as the sound of 8000 violins playing in unison, are easily possible through skilled employment of echo chambers and multiple recordings. However, such devices tend to detract from the underlying dignity and simple directness revealed by the elimination of strings, reeds, brasses, percussion and human voices. Therefore, none of these tricks of modern electronic magic will be heard on this recording." Not only that, but "In the entire history of recording the general public has never before been granted an opportunity to obtain a disc which may be played at all speeds (331/3, 45, 78 and the now obsolete 80 revolutions per minute favored by Mr. Thomas Alva Edison, the inventor of the phonograph) with the assurance that regardless of playing speed, there will result no discordant auricular deviations."

By this time it will have dawned on anyone imbued with the BunaB orientation that the #5 provides 40 minutes of ringing silence, despite Snav's final obiter dicta: "Critical listeners may claim to hear strains from such classics as Echo of Your Shadow, Drop Me a Pin, Tuba Full O' Honey, My Tacit Farewell, Applause for Judas, Bouncing Marshmallows, Underneath the Rockies, and the less familiar Beat of a Heart of Stone." The liner notes also suggest the record can be invaluable in teaching parrots, parakeets, mynahs and canaries to shut up.

Production of the #5, Crowder claims, was no easy matter: "You can realize the problem of keeping 50 musicians quiet for more than half an hour."

Still another Snav product that has burst into the market is the PMM (Post Meridian Morning) Shield. The PMM Shield is a black half-circle of suitably reinforced material. It is pasted over the left half of your clock, thus obliterating what Crowder calls "one of the anathemas of modern civilization -- the morning."

Sometimes, in Crowder's normal business life, someone asks him point-blank if there is really any Orville K. Snav at all. He's never been seen. He never writes to anyone. At that question Crowder's face assumes a look of incredulity, and he's likely to answer, "My friend, that's like pointing to a beautiful fountain and saying maybe there's no such thing as a plumber. Why it's obvious. There it is. It exists. You can say, if you wish, that there's no such guy as the Wright Brothers, but if you're flying up there in the sky, you'd better be wearing a parachute before you say it."

Garry Moore (left) and Al Crowder, both Assistants to the President of Orville K. Snav & Associates, unveiled the fabulous BunaB #5 on Mr. Moore's television show last fall. BunaB #5, sprung on a stunned populace several months after the appearance of Improved BunaB #7, is a long-playing platter titled Companion to TV, produced for those who like to play the hi-fi while watching television. It contains the original sound track of the Urban-Eclipse silent film The Fatal Love.

Above: a display from the Snav Hall of Science, which includes a collection of imitation BunaBs, outright counterfeits and several real ones. Assistant to the President Crowder says: 1) "Very accurate. This would show up well if we ran it through our testing labs, but it's a phony." 2) "Instead of copying our current model, they copied our old #11. That was used for casks, the eye-pieces that knights wore on their armor helmets." 3) "Someone sent this in from Gackle, N.D. If you examine it closely, you'll see it's a BunaB with a moving part." 4) "This works well, but it's too damn bulky." 5) "Too small, and it doesn't have the capacity." 6) "We almost entered a law suit over this. The explanatory sheet reads very well." 7) "An obvious fake devised by the dial telephone people." 8) "A genuine #18 model made obsolete by the zipper." 9) "Here's a genuine #7 BunaB, on permanent exhibition to commemorate a sad incident in Peoria." Crowder refuses to tell the story.

James Buchanan McnaB Father of the BunaB Circa 1888

James Buchanan McnaB Receives idea for BunaB #1 March 25, 1888

James Buchanan McnaB Looks at first BunaB #1 April 1, 1888

Above: one of the Assistants to the President lays aside his duties in favor of recreation at Orville Snav's Annual New Year's Eve Office Party. Photo was taken in early March, when festivities were still in full swing.

Below: from these modest beginnings Snav & Associates rose to leadership in its field. Actual laboratory development of BunaB #7 took place in small building, right of center.

Above: today, the Snav combine boasts far-flung, modern facilities. This is Plant #2. BunaBs are fabricated at Plant #1. Plant #2, looking not unlike the Schenley distillery in St. Louis, is engaged in supplying the employees of Plant #1 with the raw material for the New Year's Eve Office Party.