Marketing in the myth gap: the Crying Indian, Occupy Wall Street, and the Marlboro Man
CHAPTER THREE
The Myth Gap
June 16, 1945, 4:00 a.m. For weeks, he had been living off of hand-rolled cigarettes and ancient Sanskrit poetry. Starved, parched, six feet tall, and 116 pounds, there was almost nothing left—a wasted man in a wasteland.
He ran his fingers over the dusty earth; his back turned to the hastily constructed city of several thousand. Most of them were sleeping as if it was just another night at summer camp. He liked that camp feel. It discouraged the asking of too many questions. It softened the anxious curiosity of the wives and children, ...
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