Chapter 161 Advertising and Sponsorship

With the manga's weekly circulation reaching twelve million copies, the time for selling advertising had indeed arrived.

Ad space wouldn't come cheap; that was common knowledge. With a monthly circulation nearing fifty million copies—amounting to six hundred million a year—the crucial point was the undeniable potential the publication held.

Trying to bargain the price down?

That was just the standard tactic of advertising agencies. With the current economic downturn, rather than leaving ad spaces blank, one would think it better to sell them off a bit cheaper.

Unfortunately, that strategy didn't work here. They refused to sell the ad space for even half a year, which just showed how headstrong the management could be.

What was even more frustrating was the policy allowing only a single brand per product category. This was practically an open invitation to a price war.

So, what if an advertising agency wanted to buy out a section entirely?

Things didn't work just because you wanted them to. Beverages were strictly for beverages; you couldn't sneak in other types of ads. Furthermore, the beverage ad slots were prime real estate, meant exclusively for Pepsi or Coca-Cola. Everyone else might as well just pack up and go home.

Despite such stringent requirements, the demand from numerous clients remained undiminished. The worse the economy got, the less one could afford to skimp on advertising budgets; otherwise, you were as good as dead.

This was precisely why William White's acquisition of NBC wasn't going smoothly. In such terrible economic times, television advertising rates were defying gravity and rising instead.

Faced with this situation, William White was utterly speechless. There was simply no helping it; this was the golden age of the television industry. The rapid popularization of TVs had massively expanded the audience base.

The problem was that their TV programming wasn't strong enough. Had they featured some genuinely decent series, the ratings would have undoubtedly been very encouraging.

The sheer number of television networks in America could only be described as staggering, and the competition was naturally cutthroat. Since NBC was known for its serious programming, it was at a distinct disadvantage.

Inserting commercials into news programs?

That was truly out of the question. Dropping commercial breaks right in the middle of a TV drama was an invention originating from the East, whereas American advertising had strict regulations regarding where breaks could be placed.

Comparatively, talent shows faced fewer restrictions. If you watched a show like *America's Got Talent*, you would notice those bastards were constantly pushing commercials every single second.

You couldn't shoehorn that many ads into a standard dramatic series. While a thirty-second spot at the end of an episode might still catch some viewers, give it a full minute and people would definitely change the channel. Ad spaces like that simply couldn't command a high price.

American cable television was even more absurd, as commercials were basically forbidden. Viewers paid to watch television, not to watch ads. Well, that was a pretty solid rationale—though it seemed America was perhaps the only place that operated that way.

In Asia, nobody cared about such distinctions. Without advertising revenue, TV stations would likely go bankrupt. Their definitions of cable and broadcast simply referred to transmission methods, differing entirely from the American mindset.

Public television stations survived on advertising. The advantage was a massive audience base since the service was free, but that also meant television programs faced heavy restrictions. Forget about making police procedural dramas unless you filmed them with a very wholesome tone; otherwise, broadcast approval was completely out of the question.

Cable television, on the other hand, was the Wild West—virtually unrestricted. There was only one major annoyance: they were largely limited to product placement rather than direct, blatant commercials.

Sounds completely unreasonable, doesn't it?

In truth, this was a matter of maintaining balance. If those restrictions were lifted, public television stations would have no way to survive.

This rule actually worked out quite well, ensuring everyone managed to put food on their tables. American newspaper and magazine advertising wasn't cheap either, which was directly tied to the state of their television advertising.

Ultimately, this played right into William White's hands, driving up the advertising value of his manga weekly.

Just think about it: a television viewership exceeding ten million was already considered quite impressive in the United States, and the associated ad rates weren't low.

As for the effectiveness of the advertisements, you only needed to look at the grape juice and Glacier Mineral Water to understand. These were only trial productions, yet they were already selling remarkably well.

Well, the sales volume was actually quite limited, but you had to remember that the brand awareness was exceptionally high; the production volume was the only bottleneck holding sales back.

At any rate, the Texas ranchers were thrilled. They felt they had dodged a bullet. Without that factory, goodness knows how many grapes would have rotted in the fields.

"William, how much do you think we can pull in for ad revenue?"

"Around one hundred million, I suppose. That's my bottom line."

*Pfft!* George W. Bush spat out a mouthful of water.

How much? Are you joking? How could it possibly be that high?

"Is that a lot? Next year circulation might hit fifteen million. Landing four million subscribers for a regular magazine is already considered a massive success, but mine is a weekly, my friend—a weekly! That's four times the frequency and four times the circulation of a standard magazine. Is it really that expensive?"

"Damn it, you're practically highway robbery!"

"Haha, the fiercest competition is obviously between the two cola giants, followed by Japanese home appliances, and then sportswear and toys. I honestly can't think of a single reason why it should be worth less than a hundred million."

When it came to showing off, William White had reached the absolute pinnacle, wearing a thoroughly haughty and obnoxious expression.

"Besides, if the price is too low, I can always just refuse to sell. My new gaming console is hitting the market next year anyway; what harm is there in running my own ads for the first six months?"

"Damn it, God must be blind. How do all the good things always fall into the lap of a bastard like you?"

"Heaven rewards diligence."

"What? Do me a favor and stop speaking foreign languages; it's terribly impolite."

"Fine, fine, my apologies. It's an Eastern proverb meaning that the heavens will lend a helping hand to those who work hard, hoping that everyone puts in the effort."

"Shit, that just proves God is blind. I work a hell of a lot harder than you do—how come none of these good things ever come my way?"

When the dust finally settled, the advertising revenue indeed surpassed one hundred million dollars. Had it not been for the numerous restrictions, it likely would have reached one hundred and fifty million.

Even at one hundred million, the figure was terrifyingly high. The manga company had already achieved financial equilibrium, and with this windfall, even if they couldn't net two hundred million in a year, clearing one hundred and fifty million was an effortless feat.

And you were telling people a company like this was only valued at five hundred million?

That had to be the funniest joke of the year.

Unless William White had lost his mind, he would never accept such an offer.

Wall Street had lost its mind. They suddenly realized how terribly wrong their projections had been. Their previous estimates had been a mere thirty million; in hindsight, they looked like absolute blockheads.

Marvel had also lost its mind—consumed entirely by jealousy. Was there any justice left in the world? Were they selling manga or selling advertising space?

Now they finally understood why William White hadn't been in a rush to publish compiled tankōbon volumes; he had a comprehensive grand strategy all along.

Weren't *The Simpsons* currently selling compiled volumes?

And they seemed to be selling quite well, too.

William White, however, showed little interest in standalone volumes. How could that kind of money compare to the sheer thrill of advertising revenue? Unless buyers allowed him to run ads inside the compiled books as well, he would just keep them waiting.

Some might argue that ads would hurt sales.

That simply wouldn't happen. The people buying compiled volumes were die-hard fans; they wouldn't mind spending a little extra money.

Did you really think the only people reading manga were children?

The Japanese faced immense life pressures, and their hobbies could be rather eccentric. You could easily find a seventy-year-old grandfather who loved Hello Kitty, and nobody around him would bat an eye.

Try doing that somewhere else, and that old geezer would be drowned in public scorn.

The grand and boisterous advertising auction finally drew to a close, with the bidding handled by Christie's—quite an unprecedented move in its own right.

As for his particular method of making a fortune, insiders could only offer a profound gesture of respect.

The advertisers, however, weren't feeling nearly as joyful. It was painfully obvious that next year's rates would be even higher. They were left torn between hoping the ads would perform brilliantly or hoping the results would be thoroughly mediocre.

The whole situation was nothing short of agonizing.