Rax Restaurants and the Tragic Tale of Mr. Delicious
Remember Rax restaurants? I do because I worked there when I was a teenager. Rax was fast-casual before fast-casual was a thing—a mix of fast food and sit-down dining, complete with a drive-through. When eating in, you would even receive porcelain plates and proper silverware. Essentially, Rax couldn’t make up its mind about what kind of restaurant it wanted to be, and the company’s advertising reflected that indecision.
Rax originated in Springfield, Ohio, in 1967, founded by Jack Roschman under the name Jax Roast Beef. Initially, the focus was on serving roast beef sandwiches, similar to Arby’s. By the mid-1970s and into the 1980s, Rax grew significantly, adding more menu items in an attempt to differentiate itself from other fast-food chains. At its height, Rax had over 500 locations in 38 states. However, after multiple bad management decisions, bankruptcies, an overabundance of menu items, and a disastrous ad campaign, the chain is now down to less than 10 stores in Ohio and Kentucky, focusing again on roast beef sandwiches and calling themselves Rax Roast Beef.
When I say, “overabundance of menu items,” I’m not exaggerating. Besides roast beef sandwiches, the menu included a salad bar, baked potatoes with all the trimmings, chicken, burgers, sandwiches, pizza, pasta, tacos, and even Chinese food. So, with all these offerings on the menu, how is Rax going to get the word out to the public? Enter Mr. Delicious.
Rax was already on a downward spiral in the early 1990s, losing money due to competition and poor management decisions. The company hired a marketing agency run by Donny Deutsch to come up with a campaign to appeal to a more adult clientele. Deutsch Inc. responded with Mr. Delicious.
Unlike the friendly, upbeat mascots typical of fast-food restaurants, Mr. Delicious was a depressed, middle-aged, briefcase-carrying man with a deadpan voice. He complained about the hardships of his sad life, openly mentioning things like trips to a therapist, midlife crises, his divorce, and financial problems. In one ad, he appreciated Rax’s value meals because “Mr. Delicious just had some rather delicate surgery,” referring to something below the belt. He grabs his combo meal and “drives ever so slowly over the speed bump.”
The intended target audience was adults, but they seemed to go even further than that with Mr. Delicious, such as middle-aged, divorced, sad-sack men who usually eat alone and don’t want to dine in a restaurant with people making noise around him to help keep “his hostility locked up.”
It’s like Donny Deutsch thought, “what can adults relate to? I know, briefcases! Because adults carry briefcases. And adults complain about nosy children. So let’s have him do that. And no adult could relate to him unless he hates his job. Guys, are you having a midlife crisis? Mr. D knows what you are going through. Which is why after a trip to Bora Bora with two “young friends,” you need to save a few bucks, so why not visit Rax? They made him the kind of adult that no one wanted to relate to.
Bill Welter, then the executive VP of marketing for Rax, said in 1992 that Mr. Delicious would “go down as one of the classic characters in advertising history.” He wasn’t wrong, as the internet has plenty of articles (including this one) and YouTube videos discussing the “classic character.”
Mr. D wasn’t to blame for the failure of the Rax, and who knows, he may even have helped a bit if the company hadn’t already been so far in the hole. Mr. D himself only appeared in three TV ads and three radio ads, certainly not enough to make a difference.
When it comes to advertising, you want to make it memorable; however, try to make it memorable for the right reasons and not the wrong.
Here’s to you, Mr. D You probably died of a heart attack or suicide years ago, but your brief time in the spotlight lives on.
We are joined by author Alexander Cherin of “The Mighty 390” to discuss how 1980s California shaped the entire US.