Western Europe: P.R. Goes Continental

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Once, twice, three times, 102-year-old Silvano Faenza trotted around the vast perimeter of St. Peter's Square. Finally, after six suspenseful laps, he braked to a halt—smack in front of waiting newsmen. He had a startling message: the secret of his longevity, he said, was a lifetime of drinking beer. Beer in wine-loving Italy? Such gimmicks, virtually unheard of in the country until a few years ago, have doubled Italian beer consumption since 1958. The St. Peter's stunt is only one of many brought about by a new figure in European business: the public relations man.

Born in the U.S. before World War I, public relations went to Europe with American companies right after World War II, but the Europeans at first regarded the art as beneath them. The new eagerness of European companies to grab a bigger share of the growing consumer market and their desire to emulate efficient American business methods have considerably changed that attitude. Today, some 5,400 P.R. men operate in Britain, another 2,000 in France, 1,000 in West Germany and 850 in Italy. Two schools of public relations have opened in Paris, and P.R. courses are now offered at Heidelberg, the City of London College and Rome's Institute of Labor Research.

Names Make Money. Europe's public relations men have adopted basic U.S. techniques, but have translated them into their own national idioms, frequently adding style and flair in the process. To convince Englishmen of the merits of regular dry cleaning, the P.R. division of the Smith-Warden advertising agency put two of its executives in white suits, had them tramp to work through dirty London streets for a month, showing vividly how much dirt a suit can collect in normal wear. Reaching ahead to generations of new passengers, the public relations staff of Germany's Lufthansa Airlines helps a TV network put on a teen-age show about a Lufthansa copilot, collaborates on aviation books for young people, circulates a free library of 60 films on flying to schools and libraries.

To call attention to the progress of a new management team, France's Bull-General Electric, the giant computer maker, last week arranged a rolling press conference aboard a special Paris-Angers train, brought along President Henri Desbrueres, who answered questions while pretty hostesses plied 93 reporters with smoked salmon, pheasant and wine. Seeking publicity for the Lido nightclub, flamboyant French P.R. Man Georges Cravenne last year invited a chic crowd to an otherwise ordinary première, asked the women to wear evening pajamas.