AMIONG many Polynesian tribes, the chief never utters a word in public: the speaking is done for him by a "talking chief" who is expert in the history of the tribe. The U.S. has adopted a similar custom on a grand scale. Here the talking chiefs are called public relations men.
They may not do the actual talking, but they advise and prompt and often write the script. They are employed by the President and his Cabinet, corporation executives and union bosses, university heads and foundation directors. They help banks seem less coldly businesslike, charity organizations seem more businesslike, churches garner more souls. By no means do only the big chiefs use p.r. men: hardly anything is done without them these days, whether one is starting a barbershop, publishing a book, launching a girl in society, arranging a wedding or organizing a funeral.
No one knows exactly how many public relations men there are at the moment; the Public Relations Society of America estimates that there are 100,000, not counting the bulk of Government p.r.s. About 60% of them are on the staffs of business firms, 10% work for nonprofit organizations, and 30% work for independent p.r. companies. Among other indicators of growth, the New York City Classified Directory listed ten public relations consultants in 1935; today there are 735. A decade ago, 136 colleges and universities offered at least one course in the subject; today there are about 280, and 20 of them offer a degree in p.r.
One result of this expansion is that the public relations business itself is badly in need of better public relations. Feelings about it range from occasional admiration to exaggerated alarm. "Public relations is the curse of our times," says Columbia Professor Emeritus Mark Van Doren. "It could be a sign of very deep disease." Most critics would probably diagnose only a nagging headache. Still, to the extent that they are aware of p.r.'s largely invisible operations, growing numbers of people suspect that they are being manipulated by hidden "image merchants." Sometimes the p.r. man is regarded as merely an inventor of gimmicks, the old-fashioned pitchman or pressagent with pretensions. Sometimes he is regarded as a new creature with Big Brotherly skills in brainwashing. In fact, the good public relations man is more than a pressagent—though not even the best is ever wholly free of flackery—and considerably less than Big Brother. His calling contains more than its share of what the Nation long ago called "higher hokum." But it is also a legitimate and essential trade, necessitated by the complexity of modern life and the workings of an open society. It is growing today, says Harvard Government Professor Seymour Martin Lipset, because "there is ever more direct communication between power and people."
Dale Carnegie Writ Large
In one sense, p.r. is an old and simple human and political instinct. A warrior king leading an army, a cardinal campaigning for the papacy, a politician running for election, a merchant preparing a deal, a woman looking for a husband—all are involved in public relations. Yet only lately, and only in America, has p.r. grown into a distinct, elaborate skill.