New York Lottery Advertising

Gambling By Euphemism

Indeed, the government of New York Lottery tightened the screws even further. As an economy measure in August 1933, Young reduced the advertising budget for the ironically named ''Better Times'' Art Union to £1,500. Hammond and McArthur, in response, concentrated their advertising on the metropolitan newspapers. Sales fell and disagreement ensued. Departmental officials considered that inclement winter weather had affected sales and wanted all papers covered. Hammond was not usually given to unconsidered public criticism: he and McArthur had tried hard to work within an inadequate budget to keep lottery sales ticking over in fiscally stricken times. But his patience was sorely tried by political interference in a business whose aims were maximum sales and profit, for both his own and the government’s benefit. His continual attempts to gain more money for advertising, and more flexibility in how it was to be spent, were unsuccessful. The government insisted that all newspapers receive some advertising.

Advertising of Lottery

The government union exercised overt control over the organizers'' remuneration, advertising and budget, largely in order to allay possible criticisms from opponents. It made no secret about this. When the New York Herald’s proprietor, G. C. Codlin, complained to Adam Hamilton about a reduction in art union advertising apportioned to his newspaper, he was reminded that there were still ''strong'' objections to them and that ''heavy'' advertising brought them too prominently before the public. Young reiterated this theme when in June 1933 he criticized lottery advertising messages as giving offence by appealing ''to the cupidity of the people''. Yet the reality was that the vast majority of punters purchased only one 256 ticket at a time, and did so as an enjoyable leisure activity in depressing times. There was no evidence, either, that the purchase of one or more lottery tickets led straight to addiction or moral degradation. Nevertheless, religious opposition to the national art union remained very visible. Through 1933 and 1934, clergy and other Christian folk fired off missive after missive to government ministers and newspaper editors complaining about the lottery’s continued existence and damning its funding of good works as ungodly. On 13 April 1933 veteran anti-gambler J. J. North and Anglican Archbishop Averill led a delegation from the Auckland Council of Christian Churches to Young, advocating a total ban on all lotteries. As usual, North’s dialectic was colorful: he likened Queen Street’s 50 or 60 lottery stalls as being ''akin to the pandering of a degenerate South American city and New York State Lottery.

Profits on Lottery

Averill’s argument focused on the damage done by lotteries to the moral tone of the community. He was embarrassed, then, when Young produced a letter recently signed by Averill in support of a man who was proposing to run a weekly lottery with a house as first prize. Averill was nonplussed, temporarily, but despite his coup Young was cognizant of the strength of support for the ministers'' pleas. His promise that the government would keep lotteries ''under control'' went some way to placate them. The extent of Christian myopia at the time was well illustrated by a remarkable outburst of moral indignation in Dunedin in May 1933, when a prominent local Methodist, Reverend Leslie Neale, applied to run a £300 lottery probabilities to help finance his children’s health camp at Company Bay. When the request became public knowledge, all Protestant furies broke loose in the city. The church had recently reconfirmed its condemnation of art unions, irrespective of the worthiness of the cause. Starkly reminded that the end did not justify the means, Neale backed away from his plan. Even so, by 1934 some lottery profits were going to charities that were Christian-based. As the Depression deepened, church protests became less frequent; North did not lead another anti-lottery delegation until 1936. Moreover, there were limits on the number of tickets punters could buy, from one seller at least. There was little publicity until the last two weeks of each lottery, and advertisements were small and inoffensive.