Part 9 (2/2)

Alice Foote MacDougall clawed her way to success in the man's coffee world, creating a chain of New York coffeehouses in the 1920s. ”Fight, fight, fight until you win,” she wrote. ”It is this kind of determination that man has acquired through long generations, and the woman who is to conquer in the business world must acquire it too if she is to succeed.” Still, she thought women should not be allowed to vote.

In the 1920s, Alice Foote MacDougall was inspired by a trip to Italy and replicated Italian decor in her elaborate New York coffeehouses.

In this 1934 cartoon ad (only one panel shown here), Chase & Sanborn provides alarming evidence that wife-battering was apparently acceptable, understandable behavior during the Depression-especially if the husband didn't like the coffee. The company hoped that terrified wives would purchase Chase & Sanborn in hopes of avoiding such confrontations.

In Depression-era cartoons, ”Mr. Coffee Nerves” created havoc, only to be ”foiled again” by Postum.

This racist ad helped sell Maxwell House Coffee, just as the characters on the popular radio show did. The sound effects and acting were so convincing that many listeners waited hopefully on wharves for the mythical Show Boat.

Coming out of the Depression, Chase & Sanborn identified itself with the new jitterbug craze at the 1939 New York World's Fair.

In 1937, Mae West appeared on the ”Chase & Sanborn Hour,” lewdly calling dummy Charlie McCarthy ”all wood and a yard long.” But it was her Adam and Eve skit, in which she praised the serpent as a ”palpitatin' python,” that nearly got the show thrown off the air.

Coffee rediscovered its homeland in Africa during the 1930s, though in Kenya most of the coffee growers were white. Hence this racist ad from 1937.

In 1941, first lady Eleanor Roosevelt reached millions of listeners with her radio show, ”Over the Coffee Cups,” sponsored by the Pan American Coffee Bureau.

For exhausted GIs fresh from the front lines of World War II, coffee was essential. It is little wonder that U.S. per capita consumption peaked just after the war.

U.S. soldiers would do almost anything for hot coffee during World War II, including wasting all their matches in the attempt.

During the 1950s, instant coffee provided middle-cla.s.s Americans a quick, convenient, cheap pick-me-up-without concern for quality.

The ”coffee break”-as a phrase and concept-was invented in 1952 by the Pan American Coffee Bureau. It quickly became a part of the language, as evidenced by this cartoon book.

In his early teen heartthrob days, Frank Sinatra sang ”The Coffee Song,” which immortalized ”an awful lot of coffee in Brazil.”

Chock full o' Nuts became a best-selling coffee in New York through such ads, once more playing the s.e.xist theme.

During the fifties, coffee became an accepted part of American life, sanctioned by the police as an aid to safety.

In 1954, when outraged Americans blamed Brazil for artificially boosting coffee prices, the Brazilian government flew U.S. housewives down to Parana to see the frost damage for themselves.

In a desperate attempt to compete with the bigger corporations, family-owned Hills Brothers stooped to ads in the 1960s claiming that its coffee could be reheated without damage.

Beginning in 1960, the mythical Juan Valdez sold Colombian coffee in the United States. Today, the actor who plays him owns a silk-screen T-s.h.i.+rt factory along with a coffee farm, where he pays others to grow his crop.

Muppeteer Jim Henson launched his career in 1957 with coffee ads for Wilkins Coffee in which puppet Wontkins, who refused to drink the right coffee, was shot, branded, drowned, clubbed, slashed, frozen, and blown up.

Far from the comforts of home, the GI would do just about anything for a hot cup of coffee in a frigid foxhole, even if it was made from instant powder. The army provided lightweight aluminum foil packets of soluble coffee in K rations. By 1944, in addition to Nescafe and G. Was.h.i.+ngton, ten other companies, including Maxwell House, were making instant coffee, all of it requisitioned by the military. ”Soldiers report that the capsules are easy to handle and the coffee simple to prepare,” wrote Scientific American Scientific American in 1943. ”Where a fire is not available, the powder may be mixed with cold water.” But to the exhausted grunt at the front, warmth meant everything. Bill Mauldin, a war cartoonist and chronicler, described an infantry platoon stuck in the mud, rain, and snow of the northern Italian mountains. ”During that entire period the dogfaces didn't have a hot meal. Sometimes they had little gasoline stoves and were able to heat packets of 'predigested' coffee, but most often they did it with matches-hundreds of matches which barely took the chill off the brew.” The American soldier became so closely identified with his coffee that G.I. Joe gave his name to the brew, a ”cuppa Joe.” in 1943. ”Where a fire is not available, the powder may be mixed with cold water.” But to the exhausted grunt at the front, warmth meant everything. Bill Mauldin, a war cartoonist and chronicler, described an infantry platoon stuck in the mud, rain, and snow of the northern Italian mountains. ”During that entire period the dogfaces didn't have a hot meal. Sometimes they had little gasoline stoves and were able to heat packets of 'predigested' coffee, but most often they did it with matches-hundreds of matches which barely took the chill off the brew.” The American soldier became so closely identified with his coffee that G.I. Joe gave his name to the brew, a ”cuppa Joe.”75 The military men also had quite a few other nicknames for coffee-depending on its strength or viscosity-including java, silt, bilge, sludge, mud, or shot-in-the-arm. The military men also had quite a few other nicknames for coffee-depending on its strength or viscosity-including java, silt, bilge, sludge, mud, or shot-in-the-arm.

The American soldier may have had to settle for cold, instant coffee, but at least he had real coffee. By the summer of 1943, genuine coffee in n.a.z.i-occupied Netherlands cost $31 a pound, when it was available at all. Even had they been able to get coffee beans, many European roasters couldn't have done much with them. In Germany, France, the Netherlands, Belgium, and Italy, bombs had reduced roasting plants to rubble.

To add insult to injury, the British sent Royal Air Force squadrons that in mock bombardments dumped small bags of coffee beans over n.a.z.i-occupied territory. The idea, a contemporary journalist wrote, was that ”wherever the coffee beans fell, dissatisfaction would blossom.” The coffee bombs failed to end the war.

Den.a.z.ifying Latin America Under U.S. coercion, German, Italian, and j.a.panese settlers in Latin America-many of whom were coffee growers-were increasingly subjected to official blacklists. Their farms and businesses were confiscated, and in many cases they were actually deported and incarcerated in U.S. internment camps.

In Brazil, where there were sizable populations of all three nationalities, dictator Getulio Vargas had been slow to side with the Americans. As German victories piled atop one another in the early part of the war, Vargas gave a protofascist speech in which he praised ”nations imposing themselves by organization which is based on a sentiment of the Fatherland, and sustained by the conviction of their own superiority.” Pearl Harbor, however, swung Vargas decisively toward the U.S. side, and as German submarines sank Brazilian s.h.i.+ps, public outrage burst forth. In March 1942 Vargas ordered the confiscation of 30 percent of the funds of all 80,000 Axis subjects in Brazil, though only 1,700 or so were n.a.z.i party members. In August Brazil officially declared war against the Axis powers.

In Guatemala, dictator Jorge Ubico abandoned his German coffee friends in the wake of Pearl Harbor. With Ubico suddenly a.s.suming a strong pro-American posture, a blacklist of German coffee concerns-prepared months before under pressure from the U.S. State Department-went into effect on December 12, 1941. ”Interventors” took over farms owned by most native Germans and even some Guatemalan-born Germans. The government ran the German-owned export firms. Many Germans, even very old men, were arrested and s.h.i.+pped off to Texas internment camps beginning in January 1942. Germans were grabbed from all over Central America. Many were traded back to Germany (where they may never have lived) in return for American civilians interned behind enemy lines.

A total of 4,058 Latin American Germans were kidnapped, s.h.i.+pped to the United States, and interned largely to ”hold them in escrow for bargaining purposes,” as an internal U.S. State Department memo put it.76 Another motivation may have been to eliminate business compet.i.tion. Nelson Rockefeller, who headed the Office of the Coordinator of Inter-American Affairs and supervised counterintelligence efforts, emphasized the necessity of preventing German expansion in ”America's backyard.” Berent Friele, the coffee czar, left A & P to become Rockefeller's Brazilian agent, helping him survey the Amazon for future development. Another motivation may have been to eliminate business compet.i.tion. Nelson Rockefeller, who headed the Office of the Coordinator of Inter-American Affairs and supervised counterintelligence efforts, emphasized the necessity of preventing German expansion in ”America's backyard.” Berent Friele, the coffee czar, left A & P to become Rockefeller's Brazilian agent, helping him survey the Amazon for future development.

In an extraordinary twist of logic, the Latin American Germans were dragged into the United States, then imprisoned for illegal entry into the country.77 Walter Hannstein nearly lost La Paz, his coffee Walter Hannstein nearly lost La Paz, his coffee finca finca in western Guatemala, even though he had been born in Guatemala, was married to a U.S. citizen, and had p.r.o.nounced anti-n.a.z.i views. Hannstein's farm and freedom were saved when he produced the list of forty Guatemalan Germans earmarked for elimination by the n.a.z.is. Hannstein's was the thirty-sixth name on the list. in western Guatemala, even though he had been born in Guatemala, was married to a U.S. citizen, and had p.r.o.nounced anti-n.a.z.i views. Hannstein's farm and freedom were saved when he produced the list of forty Guatemalan Germans earmarked for elimination by the n.a.z.is. Hannstein's was the thirty-sixth name on the list.

The U.S. Industry Survives the War The U.S. coffee industry adjusted to war conditions. With most of its male employees at the front, Jewel turned to female wagon route drivers for the first time, discovering that they could sell just as well as men. Women also proved their worth in coffee factories, not only in routine, menial jobs but as roastmasters and supervisors.

In 1942 Maurice Karker joined the War Department (though remaining chairman of the board), leaving the Jewel presidency to Franklin Lunding. Due to Karker's influence and Jewel's contract to make 10-in-1 ration packs, with food and coffee for ten people for one day, the company received priority on restricted machinery parts and labor to keep their delivery trucks running. By the war period, 65 percent of Jewel's sales volume came from its retail stores, but over 60 percent of its profits profits still derived from the lucrative wagon routes. still derived from the lucrative wagon routes.

Maxwell House made patriotic appeals for its coffee. ”Coffee's in the fight too! With the paratroopers . . . in the bombers . . . on board our Navy s.h.i.+ps . . . the crews turn to a steaming cup of hot coffee for a welcome lift.” General Foods urged housewives to put up fruits and vegetables in empty Maxwell House jars, doing ”your bit for Uncle Sam.”

The third-generation Folgers both went to war in their own ways. James Folger III was appointed to the War Production Board, while his brother, Peter, joined the marines. The war swelled California's coffee-drinking population, as many who had migrated to work in the war plants stayed. Veterans who had embarked from San Francisco for the Pacific theater of war returned to settle down. The state's population nearly doubled in a decade.

In 1940 Hills Brothers had opened an eight-roaster factory in Edgewater, New Jersey, from which it planned to supply the Midwest and, it hoped, eventually the entire East, though the war interrupted its expansion plans. Owing to a shortage of manpower, Hills Brothers let Elizabeth Zullo and Lois Woodward into the cupping room, formerly a sacred male inner sanctum.

Chase & Sanborn had been struggling to maintain profits even before the war. Its parent company, Standard Brands, had traditionally been able to rely on Fleischmann's Yeast as its core moneymaker. But the American housewife had stopped baking bread, the repeal of Prohibition ended the yeast market among illicit home brewers, and the patent medicine claims for yeast cures fizzled. The coffee market didn't offer the same profit margins. As a result, Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy were cut to a half-hour, while Dorothy Lamour vanished from the show. The Chase & Sanborn freshness claim, formerly based on twice-weekly deliveries along with yeast, were rendered moot by other brands' vacuum packs.

With profit margins dropping below 10 percent, and Chase & Sanborn's market share falling several percentage points behind that of Maxwell House, the company finally opted for vacuum cans in November 1941. The next month the company brought in James S. Adams from Colgate-Palmolive-Peet as president, just in time for Pearl Harbor. Adams completely reorganized the company, replacing key executives and suspending dividends. He tried to increase coffee sales by adopting a gla.s.s jar vacuum pack, but the war environment did not favor s.h.i.+fts in brand preference.

The war essentially put the U.S. coffee industry on hold, with roasters simply maintaining their positions. The major roasters such as Maxwell House dominated an industry that had seen considerable consolidation. In 1915 over 3,500 roasters provided coffee to the U.S. consumer. By 1945 there were only 1,500 roasters. Of those, only 57-less than 4 percent of the total-roasted more than 50,000 bags a year.

Good Neighbors No Longer As the war neared its end, the price ceiling on coffee entering the United States-held at 13.38 cents a pound since 1941-became increasingly onerous for the producing countries. Although the Office of Price Administration (OPA) had allowed increases for consumer items grown domestically, it stubbornly refused to raise coffee prices. By fall 1944 the situation in Latin America had become critical. In the New York Journal of Commerce Journal of Commerce, El Salvador's Roberto Aguilar pleaded for a price rise for dest.i.tute growers. ”They're making no profit today; they're not even holding their own.” Because they couldn't pay better wages, the growers were losing workers to more remunerative industrial jobs.

On November 20, 1944, Brazil's Eurico Penteado wrote an open letter to George Thierbach, the president of the National Coffee a.s.sociation, which the Pan American Coffee Bureau ran as a paid advertis.e.m.e.nt in over eight hundred U.S. newspapers. Penteado explained that the ceiling price was still 5 percent below below the average price of the previous thirty years. ”This state of affairs is already resulting in the abandonment of millions and millions of coffee trees throughout Latin America,” he pointed out, the majority of which were Brazilian. So Paulo coffee production had declined to a third of its 1925 level. So had prices. Yet production costs had doubled. The Brazilian coffee-burning program, in which 78 million bags had gone up in smoke since 1931, finally had ended, and there was little surplus left. the average price of the previous thirty years. ”This state of affairs is already resulting in the abandonment of millions and millions of coffee trees throughout Latin America,” he pointed out, the majority of which were Brazilian. So Paulo coffee production had declined to a third of its 1925 level. So had prices. Yet production costs had doubled. The Brazilian coffee-burning program, in which 78 million bags had gone up in smoke since 1931, finally had ended, and there was little surplus left.

The Central American growers were equally hard-pressed. ”Workers now pay $14 for shoes that formerly sold for $4.50,” complained an El Salvador coffee grower. ”Wages, already twice what they used to be, will have to go higher.” Yet these realities did not appear to concern the American consumer. ”The U.S. does nothing but talk about 5-cent-a-cup coffee as being something unalterable.” The mild coffee-growing countries could not afford to s.h.i.+p their best coffee at OPA prices, so they began to send lower grades that had not been properly processed or sorted. Many growers withheld their crops entirely, waiting for better prices.

OPA turned a deaf ear to these anguished arguments-which is surprising, since Chester Bowles now headed the agency. Though he had made his fortune advertising Maxwell House, Bowles was now just another bureaucrat who apparently had lost his ability to write clear copy. ”It is the view of this Government,” he intoned, ”that its decision not to increase the maximum prices of green coffee is essential to the maintenance of price controls that are adequate to withstand the inflationary pressures with which this country is now faced.”

Bowles's heartless words reflected in part an overall s.h.i.+ft in the government's att.i.tude. Sumner Welles, the chief architect and promoter of the Good Neighbor Policy, had been forced from the State Department in 1943, and sympathetic Paul Daniels left the Coffee Board of the Inter-American Agreement shortly thereafter, replaced by Edward G. Cale, a functionary who worked against the coffee-growing countries even while serving on their board. As a former State Department man later recalled, ”After the fall of France and during the dark days following Pearl Harbor, the United States had ardently courted Latin America.” Now, however, ”we had next to no time for [its] problems.”

Even when the war ended in 1945, the price ceilings remained in place. With the Brazilian economy in crisis, longtime dictator Getulio Vargas was forced to resign by a dissatisfied military on October 29, 1945.78 Though coffee prices were not directly responsible for the dictator's ouster, they added to the public's general discontent. During this crisis period, Brazil abolished its National Coffee Department and reduced its commitment to coffee advertising. Other members of the Pan American Coffee Bureau followed suit. Though coffee prices were not directly responsible for the dictator's ouster, they added to the public's general discontent. During this crisis period, Brazil abolished its National Coffee Department and reduced its commitment to coffee advertising. Other members of the Pan American Coffee Bureau followed suit.

On October 17, 1946, OPA finally released its stranglehold and eliminated the price ceiling. ”Liberated,” the single-word headline in the Tea & Coffee Trade Journal Tea & Coffee Trade Journal announced. The first free contract for Santos sold at 25 cents a pound. In following years the price would rise steadily along with inflation. announced. The first free contract for Santos sold at 25 cents a pound. In following years the price would rise steadily along with inflation.

The Legacy of World War II More than $4 billion in coffee beans were imported into the United States during World War II, accounting for nearly 10 percent of all all imports. In 1946 U.S. annual per-capita consumption climbed to an astonis.h.i.+ng 19.8 pounds, twice the figure in 1900. ”Way down among Brazilians, coffee beans grow by the billions,” crooned Frank Sinatra, the new teen idol, ”so they've got to find those extra cups to fill. They've got an awful lot of coffee in Brazil.” Moreover, according to the lyrics, in Brazil you couldn't find ”cherry soda” because ”they've got to fill their quota” of coffee. imports. In 1946 U.S. annual per-capita consumption climbed to an astonis.h.i.+ng 19.8 pounds, twice the figure in 1900. ”Way down among Brazilians, coffee beans grow by the billions,” crooned Frank Sinatra, the new teen idol, ”so they've got to find those extra cups to fill. They've got an awful lot of coffee in Brazil.” Moreover, according to the lyrics, in Brazil you couldn't find ”cherry soda” because ”they've got to fill their quota” of coffee.

During the war the U.S. civilian population had limited access to soft drinks because sugar rationing curtailed the major ingredient in c.o.ke and Pepsi. But the ever-resourceful carbonated giants still found ways to promote their drinks. Pepsi opened Servicemen's Centers where soldiers could find free Pepsi, nickel hamburgers, and a shave, shower, and free pants pressing. But it was the Coca-Cola Company, through lobbying and insider contacts, that pulled off the major wartime coup: getting its drink recognized as an essential morale-booster for the troops. As such, c.o.ke for military consumption was exempted from sugar rationing. Not only that, some Coca-Cola men were designated ”technical observers” (T.O.s), outfitted in army uniforms, and sent overseas at government expense to set up bottling plants behind the lines. When a soldier got a bottled Coca-Cola in the trenches, it provided a compelling reminder of home, even more than a generic cup of coffee. ”They clutch their c.o.ke to their chest, run to their tent, and just look at it,” one soldier wrote from Italy. ”No one has drunk theirs yet, for after you drink it, it's gone.”

”The existing carbonated beverage industry is counting on an immediate 20 percent increase in volume just as soon as the war is over,” said coffee man Jacob Rosenthal in 1944, observing that teenagers overwhelmingly preferred c.o.ke to coffee. ”Today to some 30 million school age youngsters a drink means milk, cocoa, soda or c.o.ke. We suffer from . . . anti-coffee propaganda with the youngster market despite the fact that cola drinks, cocoa and chocolate have about as much caffeine as coffee when served with cream and sugar.” He urged coffee men to mount a campaign to match the soft drink appeal. ”The fact is that as a group these adolescents like to think and act grown-up-and coffee is what the grown-ups drink.” So why not capitalize on that yearning for adult status?

Few coffee men were listening, and the baby boom generation, just then being born, would be devoted to c.o.ke and Pepsi, while coffee itself would become increasingly poor in quality as companies used cheaper beans. A sad chapter in the coffee saga was about to begin.

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