WWII saw a significant shift in the vagina business. Heavy industry ramped up in service to the war effort, and Bronson was ready. However, many older models had to be redesigned to meet the demands of new restrictions on production priority and the realities of limited sourcing. Many of the older, all-brass models had to be redesigned, and whole production lines re-tooled for iron and steel.

Often, Bronson’s crack team of vagineers’ legendary ingenuity would turn these limitations into advantages. For example, the newer, steel models were not as prone to work-hardening with repeated pounding as the older brass vaginas, and hence remained relatively ductile, not growing as brittle over time. This resulted in fewer failures in the field, reducing the need for field maintenance. While this naturally resulted in some displeasure in the service industry that had built up around the products, it was nonetheless an excellent development for the overall bottom line.

Profits were further elevated by the need to supply an ever increasing quantity of retrogenital surrogates to troops stationed overseas as their ranks swelled, taxing local suppliers’ ability to handle the load. While helpful, the frequent air-drops of case upon case of replacement vaginas ordered by the military were barely enough to meet the expanding demand. After a brief period of confusion, various novel distribution channels were brought on line. For example, the USO was tapped to bring thousands of Bronson Vaginas to troops stationed in obscure regions as their supplies ran dry. There were reports that enemy troops, impressed with American gynodynamic engineering, routinely smuggled Bronson Vaginas across the lines for the exclusive use of Axis officers.

Ultimately, Bronson’s patriotic commitment to the war effort insured that the company emerged from those years stronger, and with a deeper grasp of their own strengths. Men across America flocked to Bronson to fill a new demand for a product with renewed vigor.

(Photo courtesy of the Reagan Library.)

Here we see a near-mint condition Wacky Willie pinback button, produced as a promotional gift for members of the “Wacky Willie’s Wild World of Wonder” cartoon fan-club. This example is housed at the Bronson Archive, but a button like this one recently sold at auction to an anonymous collector of vintage Bronson ephemera for $5,341.62.

The late 1960’s and early 70’s posed significant challenges for Bronson. Back-to-nature radicalism, and the rapid advance of feminism left the marketing department flailing until they were able to successfully define, target, and exploit new demographics. Several campaigns from this period were less successful than management had hoped.

Tepid response from the market plagued the introduction of a hip, fun new mascot: “Wacky Willie the Wonder Weiner.” He was originally envisioned as a “now,” “with-it,” child-friendly character, in touch with the youth of the day, yet still appealing to the older generation that comprised the bulk of the customer base. Small, plastic likenesses of Willie were included in everything from Cracker Jacks to boxes of powdered infant formula. Soft-toy versions of Willie were given to youngsters at participating national restaurant chains. There was even a short-lived adventure cartoon on morning television: “Wacky Willie’s Wild World of Wonder.” Sadly, none of this caught fire with the public.

Young people of the time responded to the lovable, suited, cigar-smoking penis with little more than flaccid annoyance. Despite millions spent, and a huge market push, Willie would never be the generational touchstone marketing had hoped for. He limped along in ancillary materials before being formally retired in 1979.

(Ad clipping courtesy of the Bronson Archive.)

Tasked with the duty of refreshing the image of a major national brand, yet still trying to maintain ties to a rich history, the true genius of Carder Buckley was immediately evident. Recalling the famous “Even the Milkman Wouldn’t Have Her” ads from the 1940’s, Buckley brought a new sense of risqué liberation with his “Never Mind the Milkman” campaign, which launched in 1956. It was a clear statement that Bronson was moving forward.

Here we see a rare, original color key from the start of that campaign. Note how the figure’s pose echoes the bold styling of a new era. This was the work of a craftsman in his prime. (Courtesy of the Bronson Archive.)

This original print of the first new BVC logo design since 1902 was signed in 1952 by Carder Buckley himself. Buckley’s world renowned Studio Parisienne was hired by BVC to refresh the company image at the dawn of the Jet Age, leading to one of the most iconic ad campaigns in print media history. (Courtesy of the Bronson Archive.)