Oct. 24--To the long list of well-matched combinations involving food -- such as meat and potatoes, bread and butter, Alka and Seltzer -- we now add Weight Watchers and Oprah Winfrey.
Little wonder that Weight Watchers International shares surged the other day on news Winfrey was getting behind it, saying she believed in the weight-loss program so much that she "decided to invest in the company and partner in its evolution."
Peanut butter probably enjoyed a similar bump when jelly signed on.
Pairing Weight Watchers and Winfrey, who's acquiring a stake in the company and a seat at the board table, is ineffably logical. These are two big brand names when it comes to personal improvement.
It remains to be seen, however, if the struggling diet company can get back on track even with Winfrey's multimedia empire, still-devoted following and shrewd instincts to support it.
Some in the media have been quick to cite the Oprah Effect, shorthand popularized in the heyday of Winfrey's bygone Chicago-based daytime talk show for her "golden touch" in popularizing everything from books to pajamas to a certain U.S. senator from Illinois.
Without minimizing all that she did send soaring -- she sold books, though it's not clear how many were read -- let's not forget there's always been some litter amid the glitter.
Remember the Pontiac G6?
As in "You get a car! You get a car! And you get a car!"
Eleven years after Winfrey helped General Motors introduce the successor to its Grand Am to the nation on her program with that frenetic, unforgettable, multimillion-dollar giveaway for each member of her studio audience, there is no G6.
There's also no Pontiac.
There was an initial boost from all the attention Winfrey brought, but the G6 received so-so reviews and wound up with sales to match.
Pontiac limped along before bankruptcy-bound GM pulled the plug, with its last vehicle rolling off the line in late 2009.
Now Winfrey had nothing to do with what dragged down Pontiac. If anything, she briefly offered the company a ray of hope. But it might be wise to put a muffler on the Midas talk.
The price of Weight Watchers shares, through Friday's close, has more than doubled what it was before Winfrey's involvement became known. But that's still almost half its 52-week high of $29.94 almost a year ago.
The company is lugging around a little more than $2 billion in debt, while its business has been eroded by mobile calorie counting apps and activity monitors especially popular with younger dieters.
Through the first half of this year, profits were down by almost half with sales down by more than one-fifth. Weight Watchers meeting attendance slipped 38 percent from 2013 to 2014.
Morningstar analyst R.J. Hottovy, in his report, quoted CEO Jim Chambers as conceding Weight Watchers has "missed out on the mobility revolution" and that its offerings "have become less appealing in this changing market."
Hottovy warned that shares have edged into "overbought territory" in the excitement over Winfrey's investment.
But at the same time, this is a nation with plenty of people who should at least be trying to lose weight. (I know.) There should be opportunities for Weight Watchers if it can get its act together.
Surely it can't hurt to have Winfrey talking about how Weight Watchers "has given me the tools to begin to make the lasting shift that I and so many of us who are struggling with weight have longed for."
Yet even when Winfrey goes all-in on something, it doesn't necessarily sell. She produced, starred in and promoted with all her might director Jonathan Demme's 1998 film adaptation of author Toni Morrison's "Beloved."
The $80 million movie wouldn't have been made without Winfrey. Most reviews were positive. Still, it was a box office bust, bringing a little more than $22 million.
She has said her worst career moment was when, on its opening weekend, "Beloved" got trounced by the slasher film "Bride of Chucky."
"It sent me into a massive, depressive macaroni-and-cheese eating tailspin," Winfrey told Piers Morgan on CNN years later.
Asked how much mac and cheese, she said "about 30 pounds" and she laughed.
It looked good at the time.
Margin call: Danish-born Peter Jensen of Western Springs died 54 years ago Sunday at age 75. Working in Napa, Calif., in 1915, he and Edwin Pridham developed something they dubbed the Magnavox, Latin for "great voice." We know it as a public-address loudspeaker. Jensen speakers? His too. He passed quietly.
philrosenthal@tribpub.com
