John B. Marek is a storyteller with dirt under his nails who weaves tales inspired by a lifetime immersed in nature. His insightful essays and award-winning fiction delve into the complexities of sustainable living, the heart of rural communities and the thrill of outdoor adventure. You can find more of his writing at johnbmarek.com.
My love for the 1970s sitcom WKRP in Cincinnati runs deep, with its eccentric radio station crew shaping my perspective during those impressionable years. Little did I know that one November Saturday afternoon in the mid-1980s, the line between the show’s comedic world and my reality would blur dramatically in a Toledo shopping center parking lot.
The episode “Turkeys Away” is widely celebrated as a classic moment in television comedy, showcasing one of the most unforgettable marketing blunders in the history of fictional broadcasting. This 1978 episode revolves around the bumbling yet well-meaning station manager, Arthur Carlson, who dreams up a publicity stunt intended to draw attention to the station and boost its listener numbers.
In a misguided attempt to promote a Thanksgiving giveaway, Carlson hatches the idea of dropping live turkeys from a helicopter. He naively believes that the turkeys will effortlessly glide through the air, creating a festive spectacle for the community. As the scene unfolds, the audience is treated to a series of comically disastrous events. The turkeys, however, fail to take flight as intended, leading to Carlson’s infamous line, “As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly.” Instead, they freefall straight down to the ground, leaving chaos in their wake.
Adding to the hilarity of the situation is news director Les Nessman, who provides an increasingly frantic commentary on the unfolding disaster. His play-by-play narration amplifies the humor as he struggles to maintain his composure amidst the utter mayhem. The episode not only served as a humorous cautionary tale about the perils of misguided marketing strategies, but it also underscored the show’s knack for blending comedy with social commentary. Ultimately, “Turkeys Away” stands as a timeless tribute to the unpredictable nature of live television and the lengths to which some will go in the name of promotion.
A decade after that episode aired, I found myself witnessing a strange echo of that comedic moment at Spring Meadows Shopping Center in Toledo. The event, sponsored by local retailers, featured an appearance by Les Nessman, the character portrayed by actor Richard Sanders in the original series. This time, he was part of a unique marketing promotion also involving a helicopter drop – though thankfully, it was coupons, not turkeys.
The experience was surreal; if my wife hadn’t been there to confirm that it actually happened, I might think it was all just a fever dream. A helicopter hovered above the shopping center, and instead of a disastrous turkey drop like in the TV show, it released a cascade of colorful coupons. Richard Sanders, channeling the same awkward energy he portrayed in WKRP, added a layer of meta-humor to the event by reprising his news report. The scene was both nostalgic and slightly absurd.
As turkey-shaped coupons blew to the four winds in the prop wash of the helicopter and fluttered down like paper snowflakes, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the ironic transformation of a comedic marketing disaster into an actual marketing spectacle. Many participants held their coupons out for Sanders to autograph, suggesting they planned to keep them, which undermined the commercial purpose of the event.
In retrospect, the thousands of whimsical paper coupons strewn across a parking lot were a striking example of littering on a grand scale. However, that doesn’t detract from my fond memories of the event; the laughter and sense of community overshadow the fleeting mess. The joy of that surreal afternoon, anchored by the presence of Richard Sanders, transformed an ordinary shopping day into something truly special. And that made me think: What if the WKRP turkey drop had been a real event? It would have been something the shoppers there that day would have retold into legend, passing down to their children and grandchildren. “I remember grandma telling me about the time …” Sometimes, it’s the experience that matters most, regardless of the collateral damage.