Quieting the Children's Hour

Adults who complain about the noisome clutter of commercials on television might think themselves lucky after watching programs beamed at children. American youngsters are beguiled, bullied and often bamboozled by a fury of hard-sell promotions featuring vigorous pitchmen like Captain Crunch, Tony the Tiger and Fred Flintstone. On Saturday mornings about half of the nation's children aged two to eleven watch television cartoon shows. The National Association of Broadcasters' code allows these nonprime-time programs to be freighted with up to 16 minutes of plugs an hour; on prime-time features for adults, the limit is ten minutes. Lately, not only the quantity but the quality of TV sales spiels for children have become targets of reform-minded parents' groups, consumerists and federal officials.

This week the controversy will reach President Nixon's desk in the form of a report from a panel that assessed the impact of mass media during last year's White House Conference on Children. The report is critical of most of the material aimed at children, but singles out television as the worst offender. It recommends that the Government establish an organization to enforce truth-in-advertising standards. The organization would include a staff of lawyers, who would study programming practices and oppose the renewal of broadcast licenses for stations that played on the gullibility of children.

Cardboard Steel. Panel Chairman Fred Rogers, producer of one of television's leading children's programs, Mister Rogers' Neighborhood, says: "Commercials stress that in order to play you need a toy, that your mental resources are not enough." Another panelist, Mrs. Joan Ganz Cooney, creator of Sesame Street, worries about the distortions in children's ads. "The product," she notes, "looks attractive on the screen because the cardboard materials are shiny and made to look like steel."

Consumer Advocate Robert Choate, who last year caused cereal makers to snap, sizzle and puff by questioning the nutritional benefits of their products, is pressing for a tough code to regulate promotions. He is particularly incensed by what he contends is the lack of nourishment in most edibles, especially cereals, hawked to the pre-teen market. "The commercials advise your child to equate sugar with health and snacks with happiness," he complains. Choate's code would require that precise nutrient values be listed in food commercials for children; promotions based on an item's sugar content would have to warn viewers about the possibility of tooth cavities. The code would also ban more than four food ads an hour on children's programs and effectively bar all drug, medicine and even vitamin messages during youngsters' viewing time. Choate believes that vitamin ads can invite children to substitute capsules for a balanced diet and lead to an overdependence on pills generally.

The Federal Trade Commission has been carefully monitoring commercials directed at children. It has recently warned the Topper Corp. against using commercials that exaggerate the performance of Johnny Lightning cars, and claimed that Mattel Inc. was inaccurately presenting its Dancerina doll as capable of walking and dancing by itself. A few weeks ago, the FTC challenged Wonder Bread commercials, which ask, "How big do you want to be?" and promise to "build strong bodies twelve ways." To get the recommended daily allowance of calcium, for example, the FTC reports that a child would have to eat between 40 and 68 slices of Wonder Bread a day.

A Boston-based parents' group called Action for Children's Television (A.C.T.) has petitioned the Federal Communications Commission to bar all ads from children's shows. Understandably, the merest hint of such action is enough to jangle the nerves of broadcasters and advertisers. Last year producers of toys, games and hobby crafts spent about $32 million on network television spots, and cereal makers budgeted about $54.4 million, though not all went for children's programming. The petition has practically no chance of success, but the FCC inquiry that it has prompted should keep the issue alive for some time.

Some firms selling to children have already altered their promotions to more accurately reflect their products. And for the past two months, the NAB code has required that all toy commercials end with a five-second shot of the product minus music, sound effects or trick photography (such as speeding up the film to exaggerate the power of toy cars). Explains Stockton Helffrich, the code authority director: "We felt--and we got psychiatric advice on this--that this would establish unequivocally exactly what you get for your money."

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