"Roll 'em, please."
The TelePrompTer starts rolling. "My name is Hattie Yastrzemski. I had no luck in getting my son Carl to eat oatmeal until I switched to Maypo."
"End sticks," someone says. Bang! Everybody likes it.
Unfortunately, the lady with a stopwatch in charge of timing the segment says the bit is a second too long, so they start reshooting while Carl, pausing for a beer, puts a uniform shirt on. Baseball and the other major sports frown on their athletes appearing in their real uniforms unless someone kicks in for the privilege. The agencies sidestep this ploy by building their own uniforms. A lady comes in with a red B, just like the Boston B, to go on a blue cap she has that is just like the Boston blue cap. Yaz says he wouldn't know the difference himself, except that the hat is four sizes too big.
He comes out and watches while a medium closeup of the cereal itself is prepared. Since the rules were changed and you cannot use any artificial effects, such as substituting shaving cream for whipped cream and the like, there is a lady off to the side brewing tubfuls of real Maypo. She is mass-producing the stuff. "Get some hot cereal," someone cries, and she dishes out a bowl and rushes it to the table. Joe the cameraman peers through the lens. "I have smoke," he cries with excitement. The real steam can be seen.
But there is fraud in the air. Yaz comes over to his place at the table and sits down. And down and down. You can see the steam through the lens better than Yaz. "We should have got Frank Howard," Lois says, putting in a rush order for the Manhattan phone book. Get that, kids: Carl Yastrzemski eats Maypo, but he still has to sit on a telephone book at the kitchen table.
"All right," Joe says after a few more adjustments, "let's get a fresh bowl in there and try a few."
This is not the crying scene. They will do that last. In this scene Carl is supposed to say, "They also make chocolate and banana Maypo," and then his mother will pat him sweetly on the head for being so clever. Yaz tries, but Holland wants more expression. "Carl, be foolish, enthusiastic, ridiculous. Move your eyebrows."
Lois (aside): "If you get them before the cameras and can keep them there long enough, they'll eventually get so tired they'll do what you want."
At last it is time for a few cries, but Yaz, now perched on a high stool for the closeup, becomes self-conscious and is not up to the task. He is not crying at all well. Lois and Holland fret. Finally Lois says: "All right, let's tear him up. The other guys all did it better when they had the tears." A tear lady appears with an eyedropper and starts to put just the right number of tears on Yaz' face. It works. Immediately, although of course he cannot see himself, Yaz sounds as sad as he looks. He is, in fact, a very good crier. No Alec Guinness, you understand, no Don Meredith, but still a very good crier.