An advertising committee of car dealers spells tsuris. Each Pontiac dealer had his own ad agency, each with a little advertising knowledge: 87 guys who thought they were advertising experts. You could get run over. I had to figure out (1) a campaign that would bring people to their showrooms, and (2) a campaign they could all like. Angelically, I called my new clients The Pontiac Choirboys, and showed them my idea where each was a star, singing parodies of five folklore melodies, pleading with car buyers. Who could turn down fame and fortune (and get to sing on TV)! In each commercial, the camera panned over 87 faces, each getting his spot in the limelight. Neighbors stopped into their local dealer to say they saw him singing on TV. Once inside the showroom they were fair game for a sales spiel. As the campaign hummed along and dealer traffic flowed, I filmed a sequel of three more parodies of famous songs. But instead of the Choirboys, their wives would be filmed, selling for their husbands. (To my chagrin, I learned several divorces were pending, while quite a few Choirboys weren’t on speaking terms with their Choirgirls, or vice versa.)