The Whitman’s Sampler

Vintage Whitman Sampler ad

When I was growing up, my mom and dad would periodically get into a squabble. Like all husbands, each incident was 100% his fault. He was smart enough to recognize this, thus he would frequently negotiate a make-up session by driving to the local Rexall’s and purchasing a very powerful female sedative: the Whitman’s Sampler.

The venerable Sampler got its start in 1912. Whitman’s Confectionery was founded in Philadelphia in 1842. Stephen Whitman knew his craft well, and his candy was a success. Sometime in the early 1900’s, Walter Sharp was hired as sales manager. The aptly-named Sharp took Whitman’s candy to a higher level, aggressively pushing the products to drug stores, where it is still found over a hundred years later. In researching this piece, I was reminded that it was always the drug store where dad would buy them.

Anyhoo, in 1912, Sharp put a variety of chocolates in a divided box and called it the Sampler. The distinctive box design was based on a hand-made cross-stitch by his grandmother. Printed on the inside of the lid was a guide showing what each candy was.

It was a good design. That is testified to by the fact that 98 years later, it is still manufactured in its original form, or close enough that Mr. Sharp would instantly recognize it as familiar.

Whitman’s Sampler survived the Depression, two world wars, and the economic twists and turns of the 70’s. In the 40’s, celebrities were featured in glossy magazine ads. Get this: the celebs were paid in Whitman’s Samplers! So they were obviously sincere in praising the product, willing to work for it. The depicted Bob Hope had a very famous happy lifelong marriage to his beloved Dolores, no doubt aided by periodic gifts of the Sampler.

Whitman’s has also been very supportive of American troops overseas. In practically every conflict of this and the last centuries, servicemen have been sent Whitman’s Samplers. Another nice tradition is that the boxes would often contain handwritten notes of encouragement.

Bob Hope recommends Whitman’s Sampler

But this blog is about Boomer reminiscences, so back to the subject at hand.

Mom would always generously share her Sampler with me. Thus, I have many warm memories of wolfing down solid chocolate messenger boys, my personal favorite. The cherry cordials were heavenly, too, but mom thought so too. End of story.

The Sampler, as practically everyone already knows, is a sturdy cardboard box that contains, not one, but TWO trays of delicious chocolaty goodness. One of my earliest delightful discoveries was that once you emptied the upper tray, there was that equally loaded twin underneath!

You know, I’ve spent the rest of my life looking for hidden trays.

As mentioned earlier, not only has the Sampler survived, but it’s almost identical in appearance to the ones we recall, and the ones our parents and grandparents may have remembered, as well. They are still carried in drug stores, too.

But they have kept up with the times. For instance, you can now purchase a sugar-free Sampler. And you can purchase Samplers online, too, direct from the factory, and have them delivered to your door.

Take my advice, husbands. The best way to get out of the doghouse is to trek down to the local drug store, plunk down your 14 bucks, and hand-deliver a Sampler to the offended mate, along with a sincere apology.

Ahh, nothing like making up. 😉

The Seven Up Candy Bar

Wrapper from a Seven Up candy bar

There was a company in St. Paul, Minnesota called the Trudeau Candy Company. It began marketing a candy bar (I never found out when) called the Seven Up Bar. I have no idea how they managed to avoid being sued by a certain soft drink manufacturer.

Anyhow, in 1951, the Trudeau Candy Company was bought out by Pearson’s Candy Company. They continued to market the unique candy bar until 1979. Then it was gone.

The Seven Up bar was an incredible confection. It consisted of seven individual compartments coated in delicious milk chocolate. The seven compartments were stocked with the following fillings: cherry, coconut, caramel, fudge, jelly, maple, and Brazil nut.

It was incredible. Part of its appeal was that it wasn’t sold just anywhere. In my hometown of Miami, Oklahoma, dad had to drive to a certain store that sold the delicious treat to get one for mom. As I recall, it also had a premium price.

Under those circumstances, I didn’t get to eat that many of them. But the ones I DID eat were heaven. The jelly was the best part, and, of course, it would be saved for last.

I didn’t always remember where it was in the arrangement of cubicles, so a test bite might have to be performed.

Here’s to a unique, long-gone delight: the Seven Up Bar.

The Milkman Cometh

60’s milkman

I just barely got in on this memory. We had a Meadow Gold milkman who would come by twice a week, delivering two-quart bottles of milk with a cardboard stopper. There would be a knock at the door, followed by a call of “Meadow Gold!” Mom would have left the empty bottle on the porch, and the milkman would replace it with a fully topped-off complement.

Milkmen originally delivered their product in pint or quart bottles daily. The reason was that homeowners had iceboxes before WWII. They kept food cool, but opening the door more than a few times a day meant the coolness would be more like lukewarmness.

That leads to another memory. Did anyone else out there grow up referring to their refrigerator as an icebox, courtesy of your parents’ lingo?

As the years wore on, iceboxes were replaced by refrigerators that became more and more affordable. By the 1960’s iceboxes were gone. But housewives who had never known anything but milk being delivered to their doors continued to patronize local dairies that would bring milk, eggs, cottage cheese, and other products directly to the home.

I’m not sure when Meadow Gold discontinued home deliveries. I know they stopped for us about 1967, but I’m not sure if it was because of being discontinued, or because my thrifty father decided it was too much of an expense. In researching this article, I discovered that at least one dairy in Longmont, Colorado was still making home deliveries of less-than-24-hour-old-milk in returnable glass bottles as recently as 1997.

The milkman’s regularity in making early morning deliveries led to such classic joke’s as Rodney Dangerfield’s “I’m depressed! I saw my kid and the milkman going to a father-and-son dinner!” A milkman or two might have been invited in for a cup of coffee by an amorous housewife, but in reality, I’m sure it was a rare occurrence.

Nowadays, milk comes in an ugly plastic gallon jug with a date stamped on it. You can still get food delivered to your doorstep, courtesy of the Schwann’s man. But the days of leaving returnable bottles on your porch, to have them replaced by the milkman, are long gone.

I wonder If I have a cold beer in the icebox?

The Milk Duds Box Whistle

60’s Milk Duds box

What a bargain. Plop down five cents on the counter, walk out of the store with not one, but TWO prizes. A delicious ooey-gooey chocolate caramel treat, and a whistle for after you were finished eating the sticky globules of delight!

Of course, I’m speaking about Milk Duds, and the slick little whistle the box made when you tore the tabs off of one end.

Milk Duds were a classic candy that closely resembled what you find in the bottom of a rabbit cage. Despite that rather unseemly resemblance, the confection has been a hit since the 1920’s.

I’m not sure who discovered that the box would create a miniature woodwind instrument. All I know is that my earliest memories of Milk Duds involve eating them as fast as possible (and that’s not very fast, with all that chewy caramel), pulling the waxed paper liner out of the box, ripping the flaps off one end, and blowing vigorously into the makeshift clarinet.

The sound would often annoy girls, yet another added bonus.

After a while, the cardboard would absorb enough of your saliva that you would toss your musical creation into the trash. But let’s do a little math:

Cost of the candy: five cents.
Cost of the instrument: no additional charge.
Getting to annoy your cousin Cynthia: priceless.

The Cyclamate Ban

1967 Diet Rite ad

In 1937, Illini graduate student Michael Sveda was working on trying to synthesize an anti-fever medication. Like all health-conscious individuals of the era, he was having a smoke whilst working. Laying it on the table for a bit, he picked it up and was surprised that the tip tasted quite sweet. That taste prompted him to do more research and seek a patent.

Eventually, he sold the patent to DuPont, which sold it to Abbott Laboratories. Abbott saw commercial potential to using the product as a low-calorie sweetener. So they went through the laborious process of getting FDA approval, and obtained said certification in 1950.

Initially, Cyclamate was prescribed as a drug for the obese. In 1958, it received approval as a food additive. By 1960, a sweetener called Sweet*10 was a big hit in the US. It would make food, drinks, etc. sugary sweet with practically no calories!

What’s not to love?

Soon, Cyclamate was used for sweetening a host of products. Canned fruit, Jell-O, Funny Face drink mixes, and sugar-free candy were among the plethora of products that weight-conscious consumers, each having a sweet tooth, purchased by the boatload.

Moms loved it. The sugar rush that THEIR moms had long put up with from their children was now a thing of the past! Kids could drink a whole pitcher of sugar-free Kool-Aid and not be wired to the gills!

Not only that, but those same moms could enjoy a very sweet cup of coffee or glass of tea and not worry about the pounds that were being added to their frames.

Sweet 10 ad from 1961

In 1963, Coca-Cola introduced a Cyclamate-sweetened drink called Fresca. I loved it at first taste, and my mom was happy to see me taking in less sugar. Believe me, I was already wired enough!

Again, what’s not to love?

Enter FDA scientist Jacqueline Verrett. In 1969, she appeared on NBC’s Huntley-Brinkley Report with photographs of malformed chicks who had been injected with large quantities of Cyclamate. The images were shocking, and viewers were immediately filled with doubts about the safety of the low-calorie foods that they had been scarfing down.

A few days later, a study was released (from Abbott Laboratories themselves) that showed that eight out of 240 rats that had been fed the equivalent of 350 cans of soda a day had developed bladder cancer.

Interestingly, the study involved feeding the rats both Cyclamate AND saccharine. The results weren’t blamed on one sweetener over the other.

Anyhoo, the FDA reacted with a ban on Cyclamate on October 18, 1969. It completely caught the food industry off-guard.

Cyclamate-free Fresca and Tab. No, it doesn’t taste better.

Soft drink manufacturers scrambled to come up with another sugar-free solution. The most obvious, saccharine, left a bitter aftertaste that turned this life-long Fresca drinker into a Squirt fan. Funny Face started telling consumers that they would need to add sugar to their mixes (they did drop the price from 10 cents to a nickel for the trouble). Some added sugar (in smaller quantities) to their formerly Cyclamate-sweetened products. One bizarre example of spin was done by Coke with Tab. A TV commercial I remember well used a song to inform the public that Tab used sugar in order to taste better than it would have with saccharine. The tag line? “Tab tastes good enough for GUYS!”

I’ll bet Gloria Steinem loved that.

Nowadays, we have Splenda to sweeten our diet drinks with no discernable aftertaste in the US. Hooyah, I’m drinking Fresca again! But in many industrialized nations, Cyclamate is still used. And no, bladder cancer rates (or any other of the other bad stuff that Cyclamate was accused of causing) aren’t any higher than over here. The Cyclamate ban probably hurt the process of the banning of dangerous substances as a whole, simply because of the backlash that came from the public after learning of the truly astronomical amounts of the substance that test animals were given. Heck, Verrett’s baby chicks would have looked like crap if they had been force-fed that much WATER!

But, for better or worse, it happened. And it’s a memory that we Boomer kids can recall if we try, again, for better or worse.

Tang

60’s Tang ad

In 1957, General Foods began developing an orange-flavored breakfast drink in powdered form. In 1959, the year that Barbie and I were born, Tang began showing up on store shelves.

Its initial impression on the public was tepid at best. After all, what was wrong with good old frozen orange juice? You could also get Donald Duck orange juice in a big can (although it tasted like crap to this six-year-old). Why buy powdered orange drink?

Well, six years later, we found out why. Because the ASTRONAUTS drank Tang out in space!

Tang became a monster seller, thanks to kids like me who would endlessly nag their mothers into getting it at the local IGA. Mom probably liked the idea that I was drinking something which purported to be healthier that Kool-Aid.

However, the rush for us kids was in drinking something that was also the beverage of choice for those who would sail among the stars.

Original Tang jar

So we would mix up some Tang, grab a couple of Space Food Sticks, and head out to the yard to explore other planets. A football helmet might be worn as a substitute for the space version. A big box would sever as the space capsule. That was all a kid’s imagination needed to spend the afternoon in orbit.

Why did Tang go into space? A NASA engineer summed it up: “There was a particular component of the Gemini life support-system module which produced H2O. This was a byproduct of a reoccurring chemical reaction of one of the mechanical devices on the life-support module. The astronauts would use this water to drink during their space flight. The problem was, the Astronauts did not like the taste of the water because of some of the byproducts produced. So Tang was added to make the water taste better.”

The result was huge sales for General Foods for their previously unnoticed product. Tang was used on the Gemini and Apollo flights, although Buzz Aldrin said the Apollo 11 astronauts drank a similar but different grapefruit-orange mixture on the first moon flight.

Tang played up its use in space heavily in its advertisements, and that kept sales humming. Even as the space program wound down, I still found myself seeking out Tang because of its coolness.

And it’s still around, although it is now greatly diversified compared to its classic orange incarnation we grew up with.

Sugar Daddy vs. Black Cow vs. Slo-Poke

Sugar Daddy

Well, this war was won a long time ago.

It used to be that when you were in the mood for an all-day sucker, you had a choice to make. Sugar Daddy? Black Cow? Slo Poke?

Decisions, decisions . . .

As I recall, Slo Poke was the direct equal of the Sugar Daddy, the Black Cow being, basically, a Slo-Poke dipped in chocolate. I don’t mind telling you, it wasn’t much of a competition for me. I must have eaten at least a thousand Black Cows in the 60’s.

Holloway was the maker of Slo Pokes and Black Cows. I seem to remember a Pink Cow, too, but couldn’t tell you what it was. Maybe someone out there can?

Anyhow, the original companies got swallowed up by bigger boys, and eventually Clark ended up with the Holloway all-day suckers. In 1998, they discontinued the production of the long-lasting caramel goodies.

Sugar Daddy is now owned by Tootsie Roll, and yes, they’re still around. So even though Black Cow won the battle in the 60’s, as far as I’m concerned, Sugar Daddy won the war.

Slo-Poke sucker box
Black Cow sucker box

Space Food Sticks

Space Food Sticks

It’s possible that no other generation will be as enamored of the space program as were youthful Baby Boomers. Perhaps a manned mission to Mars might capture the imagination of the young as we were swept up by the race to the moon in the 1960’s. But then again it might not.

In our youth, the idea of man traveling to space and back was so new, so outrageous, and so compelling that it simply obsessed us.

In such a fertile environment, advertisers began selling us the same foods that astronauts consumed in space.

Now, the truth be known, no doubt the fellows with The Right Stuff would have preferred fresh-squeezed orange juice, fresh country ham and eggs, and similar fare. But instead, they had to make do with very artificial alternatives, that blasted lack of gravity the culprit.

So they were all probably amused at how the public scarfed up Space Food Sticks.

Space Food Sticks, manufactured by Pillsbury, were the public’s equivalent of the semi-dehydrated, compressed rations that astronauts choked down to keep from starving. Presumably, by the time they were offered up for sale, they were more palatable than their original early incarnations. They DID represent an improvement over the yucky stuff astronauts had to suck out of tubes like toothpaste.

If it was up to our moms, they probably wouldn’t have sold very well. But Pillsbury knew what they were doing when they advertised them heavily on Saturday mornings. They knew that youthful demographic would begin hounding their parents to purchase the semi-tasty sticks.

That’s one thing for sure. Nobody bought them for their fresh flavor. 😉

It was a blast to grab a couple of sticks, put on your space helmet (mine doubled as a football helmet), and take imaginary space walks, so you could enjoy your Space Food Stick while watching the imaginary earth spin below you.

You can order Space Food Sticks online if you want here: http://www.spacefoodsticks.com/

I really don’t miss Space Food Sticks that much, though. I miss the way the space program entranced a nation’s youth.

Shasta Pop

60’s era Shasta can

In 1966, when you were on a two-nickel-a-day budget, you had to be careful what you spent your money on.

Your soft drink options were these: Coke, Pepsi, 7up, RC Cola, Dr. Pepper, Fanta, Nehi, Grapette, or Orange Crush. These were all available for a dime. In other words, your ENTIRE BANKROLL.

But there was another option: Shasta. And it only cost a nickel.

At Moonwink Grocery, the ten cent pops were ice cold. But the more budget-friendly Shastas were located on an upper shelf in the far left side of the store. In other words, there were sold at room temperature.

But we didn’t care. In fact, we would often prepare the afternoon’s purchase by taking a couple of cans and stashing them in the dairy case out of sight, to be refreshingly cold by the time we ventured in around 2:00 PM. Mark, the store owner, was very tolerant of our sidestepping of his pop sales procedure.

My guess is that his hands were tied. The Big Boys in the soft drink game had probably forbidden him from selling budget Shasta cold alongside their products.

Shasta pop has a genuine connection to California’s Mount Shasta. They once marketed spring water from that location. The brand has been bought and sold repeatedly since being initially obtained by Sara Lee about the time I was buying it in the 60’s. It peaked in the 80’s, when those “I wanna pop” commercials were on.

Shasta’s greatest commercials, IMHO, were in the 70’s. They had immaculately animated ads with a brass band playing the familiar “Shasta! It has’ta be Shasta!” song in the background.

So here’s to a great tasting soda that was easy on a six-year-old kid’s budget.

Shake Open and Pour, a Milk Shake

Borden Milk Shake

One of the catchiest commercial jingles around was the above refrain.

Milk Shake was a Borden’s product. There seemed to be a brief craze in the mid-to-late 60’s of selling canned milk shakes. A rival brand was Great Shakes, which also had a killer jingle.

Anyhow, this song stuck in my head as a kid, and I can recall most of the lyrics:

Shake open and pour, a milk shake!
Shake open and pour, a milk shake!
(Something something), in a can
(Something else), it’s crazy man!
No fountain drink is better than

At this point a kid would screw up his line and blurt out
er, shake open and pour!

Help me with the missing lyrics, would you?