Sign up for the Slatest to get the most insightful analysis, criticism, and advice out there, delivered to your inbox daily.
In the 1960s and ’70s, television replaced the radio as the primary form of home entertainment, and evangelical Christianity was on the rise. Souls had to be saved, believers had to be made, and many evangelical leaders saw an opportunity to reach the masses through television—and make lots of money doing it. By the mid-1980s, the number of Americans watching religious television grew from 5 million to 25 million people. Televangelists such as Jimmy Swaggart, Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker, and Kenneth Copeland were preaching fire and brimstone and the importance of tithing.
“I would be mesmerized watching these people pitch, because a lot of it was very subtle. But it was using the fundamental techniques you would use to persuade people to take an action, even if they weren’t even thinking about it,” said Greg Renker. “They wanted your money.”
In 1987, inspired by the salesmanship of the televangelists, Renker and his friend Bill Guthy saw an opportunity of their own. Guthy had made a living duplicating audiocassettes for medical conferences and real estate professionals selling home study programs who would then turn around and sell them to customers for hundreds of dollars on infomercials.
Guthy and Renker created an eight-cassette recording of the classic self-help book Think and Grow Rich and promoted it in their own infomercial, which ran for two years and grossed almost $10 million. It was the first venture in a long and successful infomercial career for their agency, Guthy-Renker. Today, the company makes about $1.5 billion in annual revenue. Its most famous product is the acne treatment Proactiv, but Guthy-Renker’s mark has been all over the infomercial industry since the agency’s inception.
At its peak, the infomercial industry was worth between $200 and $300 billion, and the ads were the first disruptive engine to establish the direct-to-consumer sales revolution. Remember the ThighMaster? Or the Magic Bullet? And who could forget the ShamWow?
Much like the televangelists who captured attention decades prior, these hyperactive salespeople were spending time with us, telling us the story behind the products, how they worked, and how they would help us in our daily lives. These tactics stuck even if the products they were promoting may not have had the same longevity, paving the way for future generations of social media stars who would reel you in with their personalities and stories about their lives, only to then direct you to their link in bio.
But before life moved online, evolution from commercial to infomercial began in June 1941, when the somewhat newly created Federal Communications Commission lifted its 1938 ban on TV advertising. A month later, the first TV commercial aired for Bulova watches. After that, advertisers jumped on the commercial bandwagon and experimented with different formats. This is how the soap opera got its name: Soap companies sponsored the midday dramas. The Magic Clown on NBC, which ran from 1949 to 1954, was created as an advertisement for Bonomo Turkish Taffy.
At the same time, William Grover Barnard, also known as “Papa Barnard,” used his background as a kitchen-tools salesman and health-food store owner to host a live half-hour product demonstration of a revolutionary new blender he created. He needed to sell 18 to break even; he sold 400. Thus, the first infomercial was born; it was for the Vitamix blender, and it’s still being sold today.
Renker describes this early era of infomercials as “kind of a vast wasteland,” since there were few rules or limits around TV selling, and says some of the early infomercial pioneers, like Barnard, were carnival pitchmen who could cause you to buy something you never anticipated in a million years.
While these television demonstrations grew more popular, another sales innovator named Ron Popeil was looking to streamline his business. In the ’50s, Popeil’s father, an inventor and salesman himself, created numerous kitchen gadgets, such as the Chop-O-Matic. The problem was that the invention was so efficient at chopping vegetables that it was tough for salesmen to carry the amount needed for the number of live demonstrations performed on any given day. So Popeil proposed taping the demonstrations and broadcasting them on TV. Over the next few decades, Popeil, through his company Ronco, would sell millions of products such as the Ronco Electric Food Dehydrator and the Showtime Rotisserie & BBQ. He also coined some of the most common phrases synonymous with the modern infomercial, including the now ubiquitous “But wait, there’s more!”
Eventually, the infomercial’s Wild West days had to come to an end. The FCC began to crack down on advertising, regulating commercials so that they couldn’t exceed 18 minutes per hour. These tighter rules lasted for about 20 years before the agency once again eased up, making way for the next phase of the infomercial revolution.
At one point in the early ’80s, there were 55 different DTC startups, Renker estimates. The leader was a company created by media executive Bud Paxson and lawyer and entrepreneur Roy Speer. In 1982 it was called the Home Shopping Club, but you know it today as the Home Shopping Network. Some of the most popular products you could buy in those early days were
Norwegian Blue Fox fur coats, Corningware Rangetopper skillets, and the Brass & Glass box (the one with mirrored bottom!) “to store all of your knickknacks.”
Network television stations used to go dark at midnight. But cable networks saw an opportunity to sell entire blocks of airtime all night long. These timeslots mostly went to aggregators that would air infomercials. While these startups expected moderate success, no one expected the unbelievable demand from customers. There was just one problem. In the wee hours of the morning, these companies had to have live operators to field the demand—there was no online ordering. “You could sell hundreds or thousands of units in one program,” Renker says. “And even when you take in the orders, you’ve got to figure out how to get it shipped out. And the industry used to take four to six weeks to ship something.”
It was like an early precursor to today’s buy-it-now mindset, now made possible with a simple tap of a button on Amazon and other e-commerce sites.
While the loosened FCC regulations made it easier for companies like HSN and products like OxiClean and the Snuggie to gain ground, it also allowed personalities such as Don Lapre—known for his “Money Making Secrets” get-rich scheme—and others to promote “get rich quick” and multilevel marketing schemes. Because many infomercials during this time mimicked talk shows and investigative news specials, consumers began to distrust the industry when they were misled or promised things that never materialized.
In 1991, Congress held a hearing on ethics in the DTC industry. Renker, who testified at the hearing, says lawmakers “basically wanted to shut the industry down.” Instead, Guthy-Renker and others formed the National Infomercial Marketing Association, which created industry standards to help protect consumers. And Guthy-Renker was among the first DTC companies to disclose that their infomercials were paid advertisements at the start of each of its professionally made productions. This became standard when, in 1997 and again in the early 2000s, the Federal Trade Commission required infomercials to disclose all information about the products being sold, including their limitations, so consumers knew exactly what they were getting.
With social media, streaming, and smart TVs, infomercials have taken on a new life. While traditional infomercials still exist on TV, the cost to produce and air them has increased. And most households don’t have traditional TV or cable services, making the financial risk of investing in infomercials that much higher. Like so many other industries, infomercials have been reinvented for social media, a dramatically different landscape compared to the 60-minute uninterrupted broadcasts that once hosted these product pitches. “I have to capture your attention now in 10 seconds. And I have to get you to take an action in 10 or 15 seconds,” Renker says “It’s all a different process.”
But what hasn’t changed is how the infomercial industry has learned to adapt. While TV spots used to take six months and could cost up to $2 million to produce, “my teams are putting out 10- and 15-second Facebook ads today. And if they don’t work, they got two or three more they’ll put on air tomorrow,” Renker said.
He’s a strong believer in learning from the industry’s past failures and applying those lessons to the future. “We tested a lot of things over the years. We failed a lot. So out of 250 infomercials, we had five that paid some bills and we had five that were pretty good.”
Today, TikTok creators, YouTubers, and Instagram stars carry the torch first ignited by the first infomercial salespeople all those years ago. They build their brands and reputations based on follower and subscriber counts. Ryan’s World, the YouTube channel of 13-year-old Ryan Kaji, has its own line of toys, and its star is estimated to be worth more than $100 million. MrBeast, the most-followed YouTuber, has built an empire on his MrBeast Burger. He also launched Feastables, a snack brand, taking his brand power offline. And FGTeeV, a family of gamers, has branded books, clothing, and toys. “Hit that Like button” and “Don’t forget to turn on post notifications” have replaced the infomercial catchphrases of the past, and these social media influencers are challenging Renker and other industry pioneers for dominance.
They have to—the people on the other side of the screen pushing products have to account for a 24-hour audience who are constantly seeking more. The influencer market is worth $250 billion and is expected to reach almost $500 billion by 2027. While social media birthed the industry, it can also taketh away, as many TikTok creators learned in the late-night hours of Jan. 18, when the Chinese-owned platform with 170 million users blacked out for 12 hours.
In that small window of time, many influencers, left without a platform, were scrambling to port their millions of followers—and sources of income—to other platforms.
But what happens if the ban does eventually go into effect? Some influencers say they could lose $10,000 in revenue a month.
Maybe this new class of influencers could learn something from the infomercial mainstays who have been adapting, reminding us “But wait, there’s more!” after all these years.
