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The agreement with Agrod naturally called for use of the Sony trademark.
This was something Morita had always insisted on, and it was to prove
extremely significant.
Most Japanese radio manufacturers at that time sold their products in
the US under an American maker's brand name. In those days, the only
Japanese products accepted in their own right as high-quality items were
Nikon and Canon cameras. On other goods, the label "Made in Japan" termed
synonymous with cheap junk. Totsuko took the bull by the horns and risked
using its own brand name because it wanted to make Sony products known and
admired around the world. Moreover, Totsuko was confident that it could
achieve this.
The end of 1957 witnessed another event that boosted the visibility of
the Totsuko brand name: a Sony neon sign in Sukiyabashi. This site was
especially significant as it marked the hub of Tokyo's upscale Ginza
district.
From 1955, when Totsuko first began using the Sony name, brand
recognition had been slowly gaining ground. Ibuka and the management were
constantly aware of the need to make their name better known----in short, to
advertise. And if they were going to invest in a neon sign, it had better be
in a prominent place. While they were making inquiries here and there, they
learned from one of their advertising agencies that they could rent space on
the Sukiyabashi corner (where the Sony Building now stands). It was a shabby
building, but a great location. Sukiyabashi Bridge, made famous overnight by
a radio serial, was still in existence. It was a place that everyone in the
country knew about.
Totsuko had its site. The sign was next. First Totsuko studied Morita's
home movies of the neon lights and billboards of Broadway. Each was striking
in its own way: the famous Camel sign with its smoker puffing out perfect
smoke rings; Pepsi Cola's showpiece with its hundreds of thousands of
lights; and Admiral TV's news flashes, to name a few. Resolving to match
these in splendor, the company commissioned designs from four leading neon
sign makers in Japan. They reviewed the resulting 19 designs over a four-day
period, reaching a decision in the boardroom on October 20. But there was
little time to congratulate themselves, as the team had strict instructions
to have the sign up by December 10. The Sukiyabashi building which was to
display the sign had been left in bad shape by the war and required
considerable reinforcement. Furthermore, the wall was still occupied by
Singer Sewing Machine and Furuya Caramel signs which the advertisers were
supposed to have taken down. With these and other problems to contend with,
work was continually delayed until there were only 20 days left for the
construction. It was a real rush job.
The lighting ceremony took place on a freezing December 19. The
assembled employees waited, wrapped in blankets, to see the sign
illuminated. At 5:01 p.m. Ibuka threw the switch and the neon Sony sign
sparkled against the night sky.
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The giant sign measured 9.75 10.9m and weighed 2,250kg. Each letter
of the word SONY weighed 262.5kg. The cost, including the steel
reinforcement and space rental, ran to approximately 20 million yen. Despite
its cost, the sign would soon prove its worth.
By sheer good fortune, on New Year's Eve the giant Sony ad was relayed by
NHK television throughout Japan. What a publicity break! Just as an
annually televised singing contest was followed by a rendition of "Ring Out
the Old Year, Ring in the New," the neon sign flashed onto the screen as an
example of a nighttime scene in Tokyo. Ibuka, who was watching the program,
was delighted. Totsuko had just recouped its costs.
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