Uncommon Grounds Part 11

In the Cote d'Ivoire, as the French colony then was known, coffee had been harvested by forced labor since the 1920s. After World War II, African coffee grower Felix Houphouet-Boigny, elected to represent the Ivory Coast in the French a.s.sembly, sponsored a bill to abolish forced labor in the French colonies. With its pa.s.sage he became a hero. Houphouet-Boigny saw gold in coffee. "If you don't want to vegetate in bamboo huts," he said in a 1953 speech, "concentrate your efforts on growing good cocoa and coffee. They will fetch a good price and you will become rich." Small native coffee farms developed throughout the Ivory Coast. Its crop had always gone to France, where it was protected by favorable tax laws. With coffee prices up and U.S. roasters desperate for cheap robusta, however, the Ivory Coast exported coffee to North America (at 57 cents a pound) for the first time in 1954.

Other important robusta exporters were Uganda, Madagascar, Tanganyika, and the Belgian Congo. Asia produced robustas in India, Indonesia, and French Indochina (Vietnam), but an insignificant amount in comparison to Africa. In 1951 African coffee had accounted for 4.8 percent of U.S. coffee imports; by 1955 the figure had risen to 11.4 percent.

Hot Coffee, Cold War By February 1955 falling coffee prices had yet again panicked Latin America. Following Vargas's suicide, a group of U.S. banks loaned Brazil $200 million, but the country was forced to devalue the coffee cruzeiro cruzeiro anyway. Despite Brazil's attempt to bolster the market by holding back 9 million bags, prices continued to drop. American roasters allowed their stocks to dwindle, antic.i.p.ating even lower prices. The Colombian government slashed imports and ordered a partial devaluation. anyway. Despite Brazil's attempt to bolster the market by holding back 9 million bags, prices continued to drop. American roasters allowed their stocks to dwindle, antic.i.p.ating even lower prices. The Colombian government slashed imports and ordered a partial devaluation.

The head of the Colombian Coffee Federation tried to convince other Latin American countries to hold coffee off the market to boost the price, or at least keep it from sinking further. By June 1956 nineteen Latin American countries had agreed, only another frost in Parana put the quota plans on hold. A report from the Economic and Social Council of the Organization of American States (ECOSOC) to the Latin American heads of state predicted a growing surplus that threatened to bring a "disastrous slump" in coffee prices unless governments set quotas and stockpiled coffee.

The report contained no startling news. What was was surprising was that Harold Randall, the U.S. State Department's representative on ECOSOC, signed it. Why did the State Department's stance against "cartels" suddenly soften? The cold war, rather than a warm heart, drove the s.h.i.+fting U.S. policy toward coffee. "A steep price fall might bring on dangerous economic and political crises," one journalist observed, "with tempting opportunities for local strongmen or Communist mischief-makers." But when unseasonable Colombian rains created a temporary shortage in mild coffees and prices spiked briefly in 1956, the State Department pulled back. surprising was that Harold Randall, the U.S. State Department's representative on ECOSOC, signed it. Why did the State Department's stance against "cartels" suddenly soften? The cold war, rather than a warm heart, drove the s.h.i.+fting U.S. policy toward coffee. "A steep price fall might bring on dangerous economic and political crises," one journalist observed, "with tempting opportunities for local strongmen or Communist mischief-makers." But when unseasonable Colombian rains created a temporary shortage in mild coffees and prices spiked briefly in 1956, the State Department pulled back.

While the African share of the coffee market continued to swell, economists predicted that Brazil would owe a whopping $1.1 billion in debt and interest payments over the next few years. In October 1957 the Brazilians joined six other Latin American coffee-producing countries in an export quota scheme.

In January 1958 the United States sent an "observer" to a meeting in Rio de Janeiro, where Latin American and African growers joined in the 1958 Latin American Coffee Agreement with the ostensible aim of promoting increased consumption. Although the Africans were unwilling to limit their exports, Brazil agreed to withhold 40 percent of its crop, Colombia 15 percent, and other countries a smaller percentage.

In May, due to "evidence that the Soviet Union is intensifying its economic and political offensive in many parts of the world, including Latin America," according to a State Department official, Vice President Richard Nixon undertook a South American "good will" tour. In Peru and Venezuela, Nixon was booed, spit at, stoned, and nearly killed amid cries of "Muera Nixon! " ("Death to Nixon!"). " ("Death to Nixon!").

In the wake of the Nixon incidents, State Department officials began to pay informal calls on Latin American emba.s.sies for coffee chats. Over 50 million bags were being processed for sale, while the world consumed only 38 million bags. In the United States the price of roasted coffee fell below 70 cents a pound. "An economic setback [to Latin American coffee growers] may . . . topple governments friendly to the United States," warned Colombian coffee representative Andres Uribe. "The forces dedicated to the overthrow of the entire free world would gladly take advantage of such a situation."

Regular Robusta Even with falling prices, the U.S. roasters locked themselves into coupon deals, premium offers, and price wars. Robusta crept into regular blends, with new bargain brands selling 20 cents or even 30 cents below the leaders and containing 30 percent or more robusta. "One hesitates to speak of these poorer coffees as 'blends,'" wrote a coffee expert. "It seems almost like a form of deception to pack low-quality coffees in the expensive vacuum tins." In response to the cheaper blends, General Foods began adding a small percentage of robusta to Maxwell House, and soon the other major brands followed suit. By the end of 1956 robustas accounted for over 22 percent of world coffee exports. In 1960 the New York Coffee and Sugar Exchange abrogated its long-standing ban on robusta.

The five big roasters-General Foods, Standard Brands, Folger's, Hills Brothers, and A & P-now accounted for well over 40 percent of the market. Larger regional roasters gobbled up others in order to compete. The 1,000-plus wartime roasters dwindled to 850. Those who wanted to survive had to practice economies of scale and save labor through mechanization.

Size, speed, and efficiency seemed the only way to survive in the chain store business too. Ever-larger supermarkets offered ever-cheaper goods. A & P still predominated, but it failed to adjust to this new reality. In 1958, when the chain reached $5 billion in annual sales, the company went public. 87 87 By that time other supermarket chains were challenging the venerable leader. While A & P still accounted for a full third of the major chain sales, its smaller, older stores each sold an average $4,000 less per week than the compet.i.tors. In the mid-1950s, General Foods pa.s.sed A & P to become the largest U.S. coffee importer. By that time other supermarket chains were challenging the venerable leader. While A & P still accounted for a full third of the major chain sales, its smaller, older stores each sold an average $4,000 less per week than the compet.i.tors. In the mid-1950s, General Foods pa.s.sed A & P to become the largest U.S. coffee importer.

By 1958 most instant coffees contained at least 50 percent robusta beans, and many of the cheaper brands used 100 percent robusta. Moreover, the manufacturers were squeezing the beans unmercifully. At first, six pounds of green coffee were used to make one pound of instant. By overextracting every soluble component, it then took only four pounds of raw beans. Through hydrolysis, insoluble starch and cellulose were converted into soluble carbohydrates.

To counteract their coffee's ever-worsening taste, the instant manufacturers added back some aroma. When subjected to enormous pressure-50,000 pounds per square inch-roasted coffee beans exuded oil that, in tiny amounts, gave soluble coffee an illusory fresh-roasted scent. When a housewife opened a jar of instant coffee, it let off a brief burst of aroma; then it was gone. The cup of instant did not smell or taste any better.

Coffee dispensed by vending machines was equally bad. Even though the machines now could brew fresh coffee on demand, the temptation to use more robusta was overwhelming. The vendors also economized by using dry powdered cream, which lent a slightly burnt taste to the brew. To compete successfully, a bitter roaster said, a vending machine firm "talks quality, thinks acceptability, and plans somehow to cut corners."

The Chock-Full Miracle In the middle of this fierce compet.i.tion, with its low quality standards, a New York nut vendor and restaurateur proved that a new quality brand could triumph. In 1926, after graduating with an engineering degree from Columbia University, William Black couldn't find a job. Noticing the crowds in New York City's theater district, Black opened a nut stand in a bas.e.m.e.nt at Broadway and Forty-third Street, calling it Chock full o' Nuts. Within six years he owned a chain of eighteen such stores, all in Manhattan. When the Depression hit, even sh.e.l.led nuts seemed a luxury, so Black converted his stores to quick-order luncheonettes, offering a nut-ted cheese sandwich on whole wheat raisin bread, along with coffee, each for a nickel. Later he added soup and pie to the menu.

By the 1950s Black owned twenty-five restaurants in New York City. When coffee prices went up, Black, like other restaurant owners, held to a 5-cent cup of coffee by watering the brew. He soon broke ranks, however, raising his price and announcing that he refused to compromise on quality.

Then, in October 1953, he astonished the coffee trade by coming out with his own brand, Chock full o' Nuts, in the midst of the price crisis brought on by the great Brazilian frost. Everyone thought it would flop, particularly with such a stupid name. Maybe Chock full o' Beans-but nuts? In addition his cans were colored an ugly yellow and black. Furthermore, when other coffees offered several grinds for different kinds of brewing devices, Black advertised his "All Method Grind." There was method to his madness, however-and his grind. With supermarket shelving at a premium, his one can-one grind required less s.p.a.ce.

Black understood the power of advertising. In radio spots that blanketed the New York metropolitan airwaves, Black's second wife, Jean Martin, sang a hummable jingle: Chock full o' Nuts is that heavenly coffee, Heavenly coffee, heavenly coffee.

Chock full o' Nuts is that heavenly coffee- Better coffee Rockefeller's money can't buy.

By August 1954, less than a year after its debut, Chock full o' Nuts had grabbed third place among vacuum-packed coffees in New York City. Nelson Rockefeller, who owned a number of Latin American coffee concerns, did not appreciate his family name being used to promote someone else's coffee. He sued. William Black simply changed the words of the jingle: "Better coffee a millionaire's money can't buy."

"Don't spend the extra money for this coffee," Chock full o' Nuts ads advised, "unless you're just plain crazy crazy about good coffee." about good coffee."88 Chock also resorted to a cla.s.sic coffee advertising strategy. Ads showed a woman with an inverted cup on her head and coffee streaming down her face. "Men!" the ad proclaimed. "Don't let it come to this! Win your fight for a decent cup of coffee without losing your temper!" Chock also resorted to a cla.s.sic coffee advertising strategy. Ads showed a woman with an inverted cup on her head and coffee streaming down her face. "Men!" the ad proclaimed. "Don't let it come to this! Win your fight for a decent cup of coffee without losing your temper!"

Black took pleasure in bluntness. "I'm not as proud as I should be to announce that we're going into the instant coffee business," he confessed at the Chock Instant launch. "The very finest instant coffee is still a far cry from our regular coffee. Yet there are a lot of people who don't mind it."

The brand expanded into Connecticut, Ma.s.sachusetts, and New Jersey. By the end of 1955 Chock full o' Nuts had nearly captured the lead in New York City. Black soon expanded northward throughout New England, upstate New York, and into Canada, and south into Delaware, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C.

An advocate of racial equality, Black hired retired baseball star Jackie Robinson as his personnel director in 1957. Over half his employees were African Americans. In 1958 Black took the company public, retaining control for himself.

In 1957 when his company auditor and lifelong friend contracted Parkinson's disease, Black created the Parkinson's Disease Foundation, funding it with an initial grant of $100,000. Three years later he gave an astounding $5 million to Columbia University for a medical research building. In doing so he challenged other wealthy men to give to worthy causes while they were still alive, thus avoiding the troubles inherited wealth caused. "My children won't be badly off," he said, "but I'm not going to leave them millions."

The Coffeehouse: A Saving Grace A few other regional roasters also produced quality coffee during this period, particularly Graffeo and Freed, Teller & Freed in San Francisco, and the M. E. Swing Company in Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C.

With perfection of the modern espresso machine just after World War II, the Italian coffee bar proliferated. In Milan in 1945, Achille Gaggia invented a spring mechanism that drove hot water at high pressure through finely ground roasted coffee. The art of espresso-making then consisted of "pulling a shot" to each customer's satisfaction. "Its preparation," wrote an American postwar journalist, "partakes of the bravura of a tenor solo." Though many of the monstrous old steam-valve machines with their gargoyles and dials still graced the counters, most bars now used the modern, low-slung versions.

The machines quickly found their way to Italian restaurants in New York and elsewhere. By the mid-1950s the Italian espresso craze had sparked a small coffeehouse revival, particularly in Greenwich Village, where bohemians, poets, artists, and beatniks could sip espresso at Reggio's, the Limelight, or the Peac.o.c.k. Such coffeehouses gave birth, as one nostalgic customer put it, to "a generation that, for the price of an espresso, could imagine itself in the Europe that few of its members had ever seen." The allure of the coffeehouse reached the North Beach area of San Francisco when window washer Giovanni Giotta opened the Caffe Trieste in 1957. In the back section, poets Allen Ginsburg and Bob Kaufman brooded over the faults of Eisenhower's America, while the Italians in the front laughed at them, wondering aloud, "When are they gonna work?" Soon more coffeehouses appeared in San Francisco and other major cities.

A small market sprang up for home espresso, and specialty and department stores offered stovetop steam-pressure machines. New York regional coffee roaster Sam Schonbrunn, who already featured the high-quality Savarin, came out with Medaglia d'Oro, a dark-roasted, pulverized blend especially made for home espresso machines. Women's magazines offered numerous recipes for espres...o...b..sed drinks such as Caffe Borgia (equal parts espresso and hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream, sprinkled with grated orange peel), Caffe Anisette Royal (espresso with anisette, topped with whipped cream), or Cafe Brulot (espresso with spice and fruit peels, first flamed with brandy).

London Espresso Espres...o...b..rs took London by storm in the early fifties. In 1952 an Italian immigrant named Pino Riservato opened the Moka Bar in a bomb-damaged laundry in Soho, renovating it with ultramodern Formica. On opening day-and every day thereafter-the Moka Bar was mobbed, serving a thousand cups of coffee a day. Continental immigrants who had fled to England after the war were delighted to find straight shots of espresso again. The British customers preferred cappuccino, with its steamed, frothed milk. Within a year other espres...o...b..rs popped up in London, and by 1956 there were four hundred London espres...o...b..rs, with two new outlets opening every week. Others appeared in the provinces.

"People in this country are becoming very very coffee conscious," one proprietor told a reporter in 1955. "Our business is 99 percent coffee individually made for each patron." At a s.h.i.+lling per demita.s.se-twice the going rate for regular coffee-it was a profitable undertaking. coffee conscious," one proprietor told a reporter in 1955. "Our business is 99 percent coffee individually made for each patron." At a s.h.i.+lling per demita.s.se-twice the going rate for regular coffee-it was a profitable undertaking.

While espresso made inroads at the coffeehouses, however, it was instant coffee that found its way increasingly into the British home. Encouraged by tea rationing, which lasted over a decade beyond the war's end, Nestle mounted a vigorous print and billboard campaign for Nescafe, and Maxwell House wasn't far behind. In 1956, when tea auctions finally resumed, everyone expected a British tea renaissance, but it never occurred.

The debut of English commercial television that same year had an unexpected impact. To steep a good, traditional cup of tea requires five minutes, and the commercial breaks in the TV programs weren't that long. With telly spots touting the simplicity and goodness of Nescafe and Instant Maxwell House, British consumers began to switch to soluble coffee, which soon accounted for over 90 percent of retail coffee sales. In desperation, the tea companies abandoned the superior rolled tea, chopping it into bits for teabags that produced an inferior but quicker rust-red brew. Although tea remained the British drink, coffee was clearly on the rise.

European Coffee in the Fifties The continental European coffee industry, which survived the war mainly by producing coffee subst.i.tutes, had revived by the late 1950s. In 1956 European imports exceeded the 12 million-bag prewar level, and by 1960 imports topped 17 million bags.

The new espresso machines were popular in cafes in Paris, Vienna, Amsterdam, and Hamburg, though they simply fit into the preexisting coffee scene. Outside Switzerland (home of Nestle), instant coffee had yet to attract many European consumers, although Nescafe, now manufactured in nineteen countries, dominated world soluble sales outside the United States.89 Major European roasters began to dominate the picture. European home roasting practically disappeared, but whole-bean sales exceeded the ground, canned product. Major European roasters began to dominate the picture. European home roasting practically disappeared, but whole-bean sales exceeded the ground, canned product.

As West Germany got back on its economic feet, coffee consumption-mostly in the form of arabica-increased 15 percent annually. Bremen-based Jacobs Kaffee doubled its sales every two years. In 1949 Hamburg merchants Max Herz and Carl Tchilling-Hirrian founded the Tchibo company, supplying its Mocca Gold roasted coffee by mail.90 Jacobs responded by delivering coffee in its yellow-and-black VW vans, nicknamed "Jacobs' b.u.mble Bees." In 1955 Tchibo opened specialty coffee shops selling whole beans and sample cups of coffee. An avuncular "coffee expert" helped establish the Tchibo image, while an elderly Jacobs responded by delivering coffee in its yellow-and-black VW vans, nicknamed "Jacobs' b.u.mble Bees." In 1955 Tchibo opened specialty coffee shops selling whole beans and sample cups of coffee. An avuncular "coffee expert" helped establish the Tchibo image, while an elderly hausfrau hausfrau portrayed the "nation's grandmother" for Jacobs. The firms advertised primarily through magazines, radio, and cinemas, since television had yet to reach many consumers in Europe. The era of ma.s.s marketing clearly had arrived, with huge firms such as Jacobs, Tchibo, and Eduscho dominating the field and smaller compet.i.tors disappearing. In 1950 there had been 2,000 West German roasters. By 1960 there were only 600. portrayed the "nation's grandmother" for Jacobs. The firms advertised primarily through magazines, radio, and cinemas, since television had yet to reach many consumers in Europe. The era of ma.s.s marketing clearly had arrived, with huge firms such as Jacobs, Tchibo, and Eduscho dominating the field and smaller compet.i.tors disappearing. In 1950 there had been 2,000 West German roasters. By 1960 there were only 600.

In the Netherlands, Douwe Egberts expanded its coffee, tobacco, and tea business after 1952, when coffee rationing finally ended. It bought several smaller roasters, and by the end of the 1950s the Dutch firm accounted for over 50 percent of its country's coffee exports.

In Italy 3,000 roasters vied for local retail market share. Italians would drop into their favorite coffee bar several times a day, standing among friends for a few minutes while they downed their drink, then moving on. They ordered varieties of espresso: ristretto ristretto (short and dense), (short and dense), macchiato macchiato ("spotted" with a drop of milk), ("spotted" with a drop of milk), corretto corretto (with a shot of brandy or grappa), and others. Most of the blends contained a great deal of robusta, though nothing compared to France, where robusta accounted for 75 percent of the beans in each cup. (with a shot of brandy or grappa), and others. Most of the blends contained a great deal of robusta, though nothing compared to France, where robusta accounted for 75 percent of the beans in each cup.

Lavazza expanded from Turin, opening its first branch in Milan. The brand advertised with the lilting slogan "Lavazza paradiso in tazza," meaning "Lavazza is paradise in a cup." In 1956 Lavazza introduced vacuum cans, which allowed national distribution. Illycaffe, under the direction of Ernesto Illy, produced the finest-quality espres...o...b..end. Still, the Italian industry remained primarily local, with over 2,000 roasters in business by 1960.

j.a.pan Discovers Coffee Coffee first came to j.a.pan in the seventeenth century through a Dutch merchant trading at the island of Dejima, the only port opened to foreign trade. In 1888 the first kissaten kissaten (coffeehouse) opened in Tokyo, followed by many others, often frequented by artists and the literati. (coffeehouse) opened in Tokyo, followed by many others, often frequented by artists and the literati.91 A small coffee industry developed. In 1920 Bunji s.h.i.+bata founded Key Coffee in Yokohama, opening offices in cities throughout j.a.pan over the next fifteen years, then establis.h.i.+ng branches in Korea, China, and Manchuria. Other roasters sprang up after World War II. Tadao Ues.h.i.+ma, who had run a Kobe A small coffee industry developed. In 1920 Bunji s.h.i.+bata founded Key Coffee in Yokohama, opening offices in cities throughout j.a.pan over the next fifteen years, then establis.h.i.+ng branches in Korea, China, and Manchuria. Other roasters sprang up after World War II. Tadao Ues.h.i.+ma, who had run a Kobe kissaten kissaten before the war, opened a Tokyo branch and incorporated Ues.h.i.+ma Coffee Company in 1951. Altogether there were some two hundred roasters, most of which were concentrated in Tokyo and Osaka. before the war, opened a Tokyo branch and incorporated Ues.h.i.+ma Coffee Company in 1951. Altogether there were some two hundred roasters, most of which were concentrated in Tokyo and Osaka.

After the war, s.h.i.+bata moved the main Key Coffee office to Tokyo, enticed by the influx of American occupation forces, who brought with them their taste for coffee. He could not yet legally import coffee, however, and had to resort to the thriving black market. After 1950, when official coffee imports were allowed, hundreds of kissaten kissaten appeared in j.a.panese cities, many with a special appeal. In some, customers could watch newsreels. appeared in j.a.panese cities, many with a special appeal. In some, customers could watch newsreels. Chanson Chanson coffeehouses featured singers. In 1955 a six-story coffeehouse opened in Tokyo's fas.h.i.+onable Ginza district, featuring life-size animated female dolls, several bands, and a purple decor. Some coffeehouses featured singers. In 1955 a six-story coffeehouse opened in Tokyo's fas.h.i.+onable Ginza district, featuring life-size animated female dolls, several bands, and a purple decor. Some kissaten kissaten stayed open all night and offered private nooks favored by prost.i.tutes and petty criminals. stayed open all night and offered private nooks favored by prost.i.tutes and petty criminals.

The j.a.panese wanted to mimic the affluent Western lifestyle, sometimes with odd results. "In Tokyo," one writer observed in 1956, "waitresses do the mambo while carrying cups of Italian espresso to tables set against a Viennese decor." The kissaten kissaten frequently used English names: Dig was named to indicate that its owner did in fact "dig" jazz and American slang; he later opened a second coffeehouse called Dug. frequently used English names: Dig was named to indicate that its owner did in fact "dig" jazz and American slang; he later opened a second coffeehouse called Dug.

Googie Coffee The artsy beverage confections popular in international bohemian coffeehouses did not appeal to most American consumers. U.S. coffee shops served a regular cuppa joe, usually diluted to the tastes of the time, along with a hamburger and fries. These brash, plastic-and-chrome, neon-and-gla.s.s outlets served the car culture and possessed distinctly un-Italian names: s.h.i.+p's, Chip's, Googie's, Biff's, Bob's Big Boy, Coffee Dan's, Dunkin' Donuts,92 Herbert's, White Castle, Smorgyburger, McDonald's, Jack-in-the-Box. The soaring, garishly colored roofs signaled a new style called Coffee Shop Modern, or sneeringly, Googie Architecture. Herbert's, White Castle, Smorgyburger, McDonald's, Jack-in-the-Box. The soaring, garishly colored roofs signaled a new style called Coffee Shop Modern, or sneeringly, Googie Architecture.

In Denial During the late 1950s, the U.S. coffee industry entered a period of what pop psychologists would call "denial." Arthur Ransohoff, the chairman of the National Coffee a.s.sociation, expressed a typical att.i.tude in 1956. "How're we doing? Not too bad-I think," he wrote. "Coffee was here, on this earth, long before any of the 'colas.'" Ransohoff concluded that "good old coffee seems to be 'in there pitching' and gaining slightly if not sensationally compared to the population growth of the country."

Coffee was was gaining, by the misleading statistics issued by the Pan American Coffee Bureau. Rather than expressing U.S. per capita in actual coffee pounds per citizen (the previous practice), the PACB now reported how many gaining, by the misleading statistics issued by the Pan American Coffee Bureau. Rather than expressing U.S. per capita in actual coffee pounds per citizen (the previous practice), the PACB now reported how many cups a day cups a day the average American the average American ten or over ten or over consumed, avoiding acknowledging that the cups consisted of weak coffee, stretched to brew sixty-four cups per pound. "Americans are drinking more coffee than ever before," the PACB bragged, but the truth was that real coffee consumption in the United States had peaked in 1946. In addition, the unfortunate coffee-boiling percolator now accounted for 64 percent of all household brewing. consumed, avoiding acknowledging that the cups consisted of weak coffee, stretched to brew sixty-four cups per pound. "Americans are drinking more coffee than ever before," the PACB bragged, but the truth was that real coffee consumption in the United States had peaked in 1946. In addition, the unfortunate coffee-boiling percolator now accounted for 64 percent of all household brewing.93 In a 1956 address, Judy Gregg of Gilbert Youth Research advised coffee men to "focus attention on the 15-to-19-year-old group," observing that they would increase by 45 percent in the next decade. "The soft drink companies have been aware of these trends," she said. "By examining what they have done to attract young people, perhaps you will be able to draw parallels for the coffee industry." She noted that c.o.ke appealed to teens with popular singer Eddie Fisher. "The coffee manufacturer that decides to use the same personality technique and hires the services of one Elvis Presley could enjoy a strange success," Gregg continued. "Imagine Elvis sipping just one cup on TV."

None of the coffee men rushed to hire Elvis. Even if they had, magazines such as Seventeen Seventeen wouldn't have run the ads, still considering coffee unsuitable for teens. When the Pan American Coffee Bureau finally broke through that taboo in the late 1950s, it featured an insert, "How to Make a Good Cup of Coffee," aimed at the future housewife, which elicited only yawns. So did the preppy, clean-cut "Teen Mates" they used to promote coffee with doughnuts, or the roaster billboard saluting the "student of the month" at a local college. wouldn't have run the ads, still considering coffee unsuitable for teens. When the Pan American Coffee Bureau finally broke through that taboo in the late 1950s, it featured an insert, "How to Make a Good Cup of Coffee," aimed at the future housewife, which elicited only yawns. So did the preppy, clean-cut "Teen Mates" they used to promote coffee with doughnuts, or the roaster billboard saluting the "student of the month" at a local college.

The roasters didn't seem to understand that teenagers wanted action, energy, and adventure. National Coffee a.s.sociation president John McKiernan explained the situation graphically. "Today, the Pied Piper is . . . one giant cola bottle, and his limbs are formed of soft drink and beer cans, strung loosely so that he makes a lot of noise as he walks through the marketplace with our youth flocking after him."

In 1959 the Pan American Coffee Bureau hired BBDO, Pepsi-Cola's advertising firm, to counter another major problem: the diluted-coffee trend. In what the BBDO men termed a "sprightly and unconventional approach," the ads depicted a businessman gripping a broad sword atop a rearing horse, next to a woman on a motor scooter holding a banner with the motto "More Coffee in Our Coffee or Fight." To join this "crusade," readers could send in a dime for a brewing leaflet and official members.h.i.+p certificate in the "League of Honest Coffee Lovers."

Predictably, the campaign failed to bring back decent coffee brewing. All it did was attract the satire of Mad Mad magazine, which ran a parody about the "League of Frightened Coffee Growers," an organization that offered pamphlets telling "the whole miserable story of how the Pan-American coffee growers are losing their s.h.i.+rts." magazine, which ran a parody about the "League of Frightened Coffee Growers," an organization that offered pamphlets telling "the whole miserable story of how the Pan-American coffee growers are losing their s.h.i.+rts."

Scared into Agreement African growers too were suffering from overproduction and falling prices. Threatened with looming surpluses, the Africans formed the Inter-African Coffee Organization and rushed to the negotiation table. Together with fifteen Latin American countries, Angola, the Ivory Coast, and Cameroon signed on to a one-year quota system in September 1959 in which each country agreed to export 10 percent less than its best year in the past decade. 94 94 Without any enforcement mechanism, however, the quota system was widely violated. Without any enforcement mechanism, however, the quota system was widely violated.

The new agreement, a stopgap measure, at least was a start. In 1960 the British African coffee colonies of Kenya, Tanganyika, and Uganda joined the agreement, which was extended for another year. "The biggest question," wrote Brazilian Joo Oliveira Santos early in 1961, "is how and when the major coffee-consuming countries such as the United States will decide to partic.i.p.ate in a long-term agreement." He was optimistic, noting that "the ideological and political security of the Western World is directly dependent on its collective economic security." Clearly Santos was relying on the Communist menace to scare the United States into the agreement. As if to underline the threat, in 1960 the Brazilians sent a delegation to the Soviet Union to arrange to trade coffee for Russian oil, wheat, airplanes, and drilling equipment.

In 1959 Fidel Castro's rebels had overthrown the Batista dictators.h.i.+p in Cuba. In 1960 Castro aligned himself with the Soviets and began nationalizing American companies, throwing the United States into a panic over Communist influence in Latin America and further propelling the United States toward support for the coffee agreement.

The U.S. fear of communism focused not only on Latin America but also Africa. In 1960 the trickle toward inevitable African decolonization turned into a flood of newly independent countries, many relying primarily on coffee just when prices were nosediving. One coffee writer worried that the African nations might "become mere p.a.w.ns in the economic warfare currently being fought by the mighty nations of the East and West"-in other words, would they be ripped apart by the cold war?

When Charles de Gaulle offered French African colonies a choice of independence or continued "interdependence," French Sudan (renamed Mali) and Madagascar (renamed the Malagasy Republic) chose independence while remaining in the French commonwealth. Their example prompted the Ivory Coast, which had first opted to remain a colony, to choose independence in August 1960. The French continued to provide aid money and advisers to their former colonies. "Coffee is a political problem as much as an economic one," a French importer wrote. France had a duty, he said, to keep "millions of people within this side of the Liberty Curtain."

Though the transition to independence proceeded smoothly in the Ivory Coast, it was disastrous in the Belgian Congo. Some seventy-five years earlier, when Africa had been artificially sliced up by the European powers, the countries' imposed national boundaries hid smoldering tribal rivalries that frequently erupted with independence. Nowhere was this more evident than in the Congo.95 Within a week of the Congo's June 30, 1960, independence, the native army mutinied, looting, raping, and killing at random. The province of Katanga attempted to secede, and the Belgian government sent troops. In the mounting chaos Prime Minister Patrice Lumumba, a former postal worker, appealed simultaneously to the United Nations and to the Soviet Union for help. Within a week of the Congo's June 30, 1960, independence, the native army mutinied, looting, raping, and killing at random. The province of Katanga attempted to secede, and the Belgian government sent troops. In the mounting chaos Prime Minister Patrice Lumumba, a former postal worker, appealed simultaneously to the United Nations and to the Soviet Union for help.

By approaching the Communists, Lumumba sealed his fate. The United States ordained not only his overthrow but his death. With CIA air support, Lumumba was captured by Mobutu Sese Seko and was a.s.sa.s.sinated on January 17, 1961. The following years brought internecine warfare, attempted revolution, American intervention, and the long-term despotic rule of Mobutu, who renamed the country Zaire. "Production is declining," a Congo coffee man reported in 1965. "One of our merchant friends reports that 25 percent of his planter-clients have been killed. Others have left their plantations. On one shamba shamba, the entire labor force of a hundred men was slaughtered."

Three days after Patrice Lumumba's a.s.sa.s.sination, John F. Kennedy became the new president of the United States. Along with Cuba and the Congo, he worried about Angola. Determined to stymie Communist influence in Africa, Kennedy encouraged the Portuguese dictators.h.i.+p to crush an Angolan rebellion rather than to allow independence. When unpaid coffee workers demanded back wages, planters panicked and fired on them. In the ensuing ma.s.sacre, hundreds of whites and thousands of blacks were killed in the coffee plantations. Finally, with American weapons, the Portuguese restored order and coffee cultivation.

The British delayed granting independence to Uganda, Kenya, and Tanganyika, hoping to provide a smooth transition. Late in 1960 Alan Bowler, a British coffee exporter, wrote from Nairobi, Kenya: "To millions in this Continent, coffee means the difference between too little to eat or enough." With tiny farms predominating, he doubted the efficacy of any scheme to reduce the surplus coffee harvest. "To any smallholder having three acres," he wrote, "it would take a great deal of filtered economics, plus a gun, to begin to persuade him to cut production." By this point 80 percent of African coffee was grown by Africans.

The new coffee agreement thus was born out of economic despair and political tension. In the United States in January 1961, John McKiernan of the National Coffee a.s.sociation warned that in Africa the Soviet Union could "exploit nationalism to ensnare emerging nations into Communist slavery." He concluded that, although the NCA traditionally had opposed quota schemes as limits on free trade, he now would support the International Coffee Agreement in this "atmosphere of international hypertension."

In 1961 President Kennedy sponsored the Alliance for Progress, designed to improve relations with Latin America through aid programs. In his March 13 speech introducing the Alliance, Kennedy acknowledged that "no program of economic development can be effected unless something is done to stabilize commodity prices."

Treasury Secretary Douglas Dillon reiterated U.S. support for a coffee agreement. On July 9, 1962, the United Nations convened a UN Coffee Conference in New York City to negotiate a long-term agreement. The meetings ran virtually around the clock. "For me," U.S. delegate Michael Blumenthal later recalled, "the most amusing moment came at 4 A.M. one morning when I was still rus.h.i.+ng around . . . the U.N., trying to break a deadlock. Two other members of the U.S. team were holding on to my coat-tails, begging me to maintain the dignity of my office. I think I replied that if I had any dignity, I would be home in bed."

The partic.i.p.ants finally reached a tentative quota agreement. The International Coffee Agreement (ICA) would come into full force, however, only when ratified by most of the importing and exporting countries. The deadline for ratification was set for December 30, 1963. In the meantime, the five-year agreement would go into effect informally.

The basic quota was based on world exports of 45.6 million bags. Of that amount, Brazil was allowed 18 million bags, Colombia just over 6 million, the Ivory Coast 2.3 million, and Angola just over 2 million bags. The agreement called for quarterly quota adjustments requiring approval by two-thirds of both importing and exporting countries. Furthermore, every coffee s.h.i.+pment was to be accompanied by a "certificate of origin," or re-export certificate. Countries with low coffee consumption, such as j.a.pan, China, and the Soviet Union, were exempted from the quota system. Exporters therefore could s.h.i.+p as much coffee as they wished behind the Iron Curtain or to j.a.pan. The agreement gave lip service to promotional efforts to increase worldwide consumption and to limit overproduction, but the provisions were all voluntary. Any country could withdraw from the agreement with ninety days' notice.

Stumbling Toward Ratification The path toward U.S. ratification of the International Coffee Agreement did not run smoothly. In March 1963 hearings were held before the Committee on Foreign Relations to discuss the agreement. Kansas Senator Frank Carlson asked, "Is it not a fact that what you actually are doing is placing a burden on the coffee consumers of the United States to maintain a price level in a foreign country?" Another senator asked whether it were not really "an international cartel." In May the Senate ultimately ratified the agreement knowing that it still would have to pa.s.s "implementing" legislation that would allow U.S. Customs to reject coffee without a proper certificate of origin.

Then nature intervened in Parana, first with an early August frost, then a devastating September fire, all in the midst of a prolonged drought. With Brazil's prospective crop severely damaged, coffee prices once again began to climb. After tortuous debate, the House of Representatives nonetheless voted for implementing legislation on November 14, sending it back to the Senate for a final vote.

Eight days later, just after noon on November 22, 1963, President Kennedy was a.s.sa.s.sinated in Dallas. The coffee politics were so intense that the members of the ICA, engaged in a bitter debate over quotas at London headquarters, continued their all-day arguments late into the night, even after hearing of the U.S. president's murder. In the end, at 2:00 A.M. on November 23, they failed to increase quotas in response to rising prices.

To keep the ICA alive, the United States deposited its instrument of ratification on December 27, four days before the deadline, still without implementing legislation. Coffee prices continued their steady climb, from 34 cents a pound up to 50 cents for Santos #4. On February 12, 1964, knowing that American politicians were likely to kill the agreement unless more coffee were released and prices moderated, the ICA Council voted overwhelmingly to increase quotas just over 3 percent, releasing another 2.3 million bags.

When the Senate Committee on Finance met two weeks later for three days of hearings, Averell Harriman of the State Department pointed out that the purpose of the ICA was to prevent the bankruptcy of producing countries. Delaware senator John Williams asked, "But it was a one-way protection, was it not? There was nothing in there that would protect the price of coffee from going to a dollar a pound."

The producing countries clearly had voted for a quota increase largely to placate U.S. politicians. "And once this implementing legislation has been approved by Congress and signed by the President," a senator observed, "they will not have the Senate to fear."

Even liberal Democratic Senator Paul Douglas objected to the ICA implementation, on the grounds that higher coffee prices would not "trickle down" to peasant laborers. What had happened during the price spike in 1954? "Elaborate houses and plantation houses were built by the planters," Douglas observed, "and they sent abroad capital anonymously to be deposited in Swiss banks in numbered accounts. . . . Money was not used for the improvement of the condition of the people." If they did pa.s.s the legislation, Douglas noted, "we will be acclaimed for following out the good neighbor policy, but this is the superficial crust of Latin American life. The real volcano is underneath."

Wendell Rollason, who testified for a Miami anti-Castro organization, shared Douglas's concerns but drew a different conclusion: The campesinos of Latin America needed help. "They seek a piece of land, a steady job, a full belly, a child's education. . . . It is going to be us or the Russians. It's that simple."

Averell Harriman told Senator Douglas that, at least in Brazil, the government was attempting "social reform and social progress, improvements of the condition of the people." In Brazil huge fazendas fazendas still predominated, with 1.6 percent of the farms holding over half of the cultivated land. still predominated, with 1.6 percent of the farms holding over half of the cultivated land.96 The Senate pa.s.sed the implementing legislation on July 31, 1964, but only after Republican Senator Everett Dirksen tacked on an amendment specifying that the United States would withdraw from the ICA upon a joint resolution of Congress. Although the House already had approved the legislation, it now had to approve the amended version. By a narrow margin, in August, the House rejected rejected it. it.

After the elections, in which Lyndon Johnson won a landslide victory, the Senate pa.s.sed the amended bill on February 2, 1965, and the House once more held hearings in April, then finally pa.s.sed the implementing legislation, and the International Coffee Agreement went into full effect, with the United States monitoring certificates of origin.

Boomer Bust The U.S. coffee industry continued to experience its own crisis. From a "peak" of 3.1 cups a day for U.S. consumers age ten or over in 1962, per-capita coffee consumption by 1964 averaged 2.9 cups a day.

To appeal to the baby boomers, the Pan American Coffee Bureau introduced a series of campaigns such as "Mugmates," asking adolescents to decorate coffee mugs. "I go for coffee, you go for coffee, let's go for coffee together," a slogan urged. But these lame attempts did not woo teens. A survey revealed that "teenagers do not like the taste of coffee at all, and in many instances find it repulsive." Coffee was not considered refres.h.i.+ng or beneficial in any way. At least there was some tiny solace: teens identified coffee as an adult beverage signaling a rite of pa.s.sage into the world of the businessman and housewife. "While the youngster is consuming hundreds and hundreds of bottles of pop, he is doing so with the full cognizance that in not too many years he will be a coffee drinker."

Just when additional coffee promotion appeared to be absolutely vital, even the small amount of support from the Pan American Coffee Bureau fizzled in antic.i.p.ation that the London-based International Coffee Organization would take over. But the ICO members failed to appropriate promotional funds for three crucial years, from 1963 until 1966. At the same time, the Coffee Brewing Inst.i.tute, which for over a decade had made valiant but ineffectual attempts to improve American brewing habits, lost its funding.97 Coca-Cola and Pepsi mounted ever-more sophisticated campaigns to entice youth. "Things go better with Coca-Cola," sang a cheerful folk group. "Food goes better with, Fun goes better with, You go better with c.o.ke." Pepsi countered with a brilliant attempt to snare-and even label-an entire generation. As television commercials showed frenetically active, happy young people on motorcycles or roller coasters, a woman sang, "Come alive! Come alive! You're in the Pepsi Generation." In 1965 soft drink firms spent nearly $100 million on ads-twice the outlay for coffee. the outlay for coffee.

A 1965 editorial in the Tea & Coffee Trade Journal Tea & Coffee Trade Journal summed up the problem: "Coffee has been engaged in a tough compet.i.tive struggle for a great many years and it has been losing that fight for at least a decade. Now, for the first time, the extent of the loss is becoming measurable and there is no reason to believe that the tide of battle is about to turn." summed up the problem: "Coffee has been engaged in a tough compet.i.tive struggle for a great many years and it has been losing that fight for at least a decade. Now, for the first time, the extent of the loss is becoming measurable and there is no reason to believe that the tide of battle is about to turn."

Merger Mania Instead of mounting a truly effective campaign to attract baby boomers, coffee roasters continued to battle one another for dwindling market share. As profit margins tightened, the process of industry concentration accelerated, with mergers and bankruptcies narrowing the field to just 240 roasters by 1965. Of those, the top eight companies accounted for 75 percent of sales.

The most momentous merger was announced in September 1963. Consumer food conglomerate Procter & Gamble was buying Folger's, the oldest coffee firm in the West. Up to that point Folger's and Hills Brothers had battled for coffee supremacy primarily in the West and Midwest. By the time Procter & Gamble paid $126 million for the company, Folger's had attained a slim lead over Hills Brothers in most of its markets. With roasting plants in San Francisco, Kansas City, New Orleans, Houston, Los Angeles, and Portland, it employed 1,300 people and held 11 percent of the U.S. coffee market.

The b.u.t.toned-down Procter & Gamble men, who had turned soap sales into a science, shook up the genteel coffee world. Everything now had to be doc.u.mented with endless reports and memos. Sophisticated television ads now reached many more consumers, playing on their fears and desires. Mrs. Olson, an omniscient Swedish busybody, magically appeared at the back door with a can of Folgers Coffee (Procter & Gamble dropped the apostrophe), just in time to save a marriage and restore true love. The ads reinforced s.e.xist images of petulant husbands incapable of making their own coffee and frantic wives whose worth was measured out in coffee spoons. Within Procter & Gamble it was known as the "There, There" campaign. The company conducted research to determine "how ugly and aggressive we could get," as one adman put it. They discovered that housewives would accept "all sorts of abuse" as reasonable, since they actually experienced it much of the time in their daily lives.

Only months after Procter & Gamble bought Folgers, Coca-Cola jumped into the coffee fray, announcing a merger with Duncan Foods in February 1964. c.o.ke already owned Tenco, the New Jersey instant-coffee cooperative, which it got as a bonus when it bought Minute Maid orange juice in 1960. Now c.o.ke suddenly was the fifth largest roaster in the United States, with brands such as Admiration, b.u.t.ter-Nut, Fleet-wood, Maryland Club, Huggins Young, and Blue Ridge, along with a healthy private label and inst.i.tutional business. Just why the soft-drink t.i.tan would want to sell coffee remained a puzzle, since colas offered a much higher profit margin. Many suspected that c.o.ke was more interested in acquiring aggressive managers such as Charles Duncan Jr. and Don Keough, who had come onboard with b.u.t.ter-Nut. Both men would rise to the top at c.o.ke.

The Maxwell Housewife With the acquisition of Duncan Foods, Coca-Cola commanded a mere 5 percent of the regular coffee market and 1 percent of the instant. General Foods remained the coffee behemoth, with a 22 percent share of regular coffee and 51 percent of instant. It owned Maxwell House, Sanka, and Yuban, and it practiced the most sophisticated, high-powered coffee marketing, appealing to slightly different segments of the market with each brand.

In the early 1960s General Foods bought French, German, Swedish, Spanish, and Mexican roasters. Following liberalization of j.a.panese coffee imports, the company formed a joint venture with a local brewery and mineral water company in 1961 to produce instant coffee for the j.a.panese market. To solidify its new international image, General Foods paid for Maxwell House to become the official coffee at the 1964 New York World's Fair, where it reminded visitors that it was good to the last drop on soaring sixty-foot-high archways.

In 1960 viewers first saw the now-cla.s.sic Maxwell House percolator ad, created by famed adman David Ogilvy and destined to run off and on for years as it entered the subconscious of a generation. As coffee began to spurt sporadically into the gla.s.s k.n.o.b at the top of a percolator, a syncopated beat accompanied it, then as the percolator settled into full boil the tune broke into a sprightly melody to signify the cheerful warmth of morning coffee preparation. It was a brilliant, evocative commercial, even though it celebrated a dreadful way to brew coffee.

In the first sn.o.b appeal to instant users, General Foods introduced instant Yuban the same year, with door-to-door sampling, advertising, and extensive sales promotion. Because it used all-arabica beans, this soluble product indeed was superior to other instants, although mediocre compared to regular coffee. Along with other coffee roasters General Foods switched to nonkey cans with plastic resealable lids. It coordinated a television campaign on The Andy Griffith Show The Andy Griffith Show with four-cup samples of Sanka bound into with four-cup samples of Sanka bound into Family Circle Family Circle and and TV Guide TV Guide magazines. magazines.

In 1964 the company introduced Maxim, the first freeze-dried coffee, a technological advance over spray-dried solubles that offered better flavor. "You are looking at something you've never seen before-the power to turn every cup in your house into a percolator," Maxim ads promised.

In 1965 the company launched "the most powerful advertising ad promotion program in ground coffee history" for Maxwell House, featuring its first color-TV spots. Simultaneous print ads offered a 7-cents-off coupon and a free record, "12,000 Girl Scouts Sing America's National Favorites." The television minidramas, aimed at young married couples, urged women to "Be a Maxwell Housewife." A typical ad showed a pert young woman surrounded by packing boxes in a new apartment. "Wife," says the condescending husband in a voice-over, "pay attention, because I'm going to teach you to make coffee." The ad never shows the husband, only his hands, as he makes coffee. He orders her only to use Maxwell House coffee. "Smell it. Now taste it. See? Always good to the last drop. So-no experimenting with my coffee. Be a good little Maxwell Housewife and I think I'll keep you around." He pats her on the head and musses her hair. Intended to tap the insecurities of young wives, this spot also undoubtedly offended budding feminists.

The Decline of Hills Brothers In the brave new world of coffee conglomerates, Hills Brothers stubbornly held out as a traditional family firm. A 1958 opinion survey conducted for the firm showed that Hills Brothers suffered from an "old-fas.h.i.+oned" image, while Folgers was considered "modern and up-to-date." Worse, the survey found that "the belief that its quality has deteriorated is given as a reason for deserting Hills Brothers." The charge was true. Under immense compet.i.tive pressure, Hills Brothers compromised the quality of the blend.

In 1960 consumer interviews revealed that the Hills Brothers Arab was perceived as a tired, old-fas.h.i.+oned patriarch. Marketing consultants concluded that "the figure is seen as hopelessly out-of-date." The report infuriated sixty-three-year-old Leslie Hills, R.W.'s son. "They throw the Arab off the label as though it were an old shoe." He refused to budge.

Although the Arab remained on the cans, the firm made valiant efforts to maintain market share, including the now-standard coupons and special deals. It offered free coffee urns to churches and clubs that sent in a sufficient number of coffee labels. Hills Brothers cosponsored the 1960 Squaw Valley Winter Olympics, but with a total annual ad budget of $5 million, their TV spots appeared only in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Portland, and Chicago. At the same time, they sponsored local ads on s.h.i.+rley Temple's Storybook s.h.i.+rley Temple's Storybook, Bat Masterson Bat Masterson, and Walt Disney Walt Disney.

A new ad campaign urged consumers to "Head for the Hills!" a.s.serting that the coffee was "just slightly richer, now-about 10 percent richer than other leading coffees." It also introduced the absurd slogan, "Flavor so unbeatable, it's reheatable!" Television spots showed an auto-body shop worker reheating his coffee over a blowtorch.

In 1964 Gray Hills, A.H.'s son, died at age seventy. The next year an internal Brand Image Study Brand Image Study stated, "Throughout the Western Zone, Hills Bros. was seen as a poor quality coffee or a brand that was declining in popularity." Folgers, with Procter & Gamble's marketing clout behind it, was seen as " stated, "Throughout the Western Zone, Hills Bros. was seen as a poor quality coffee or a brand that was declining in popularity." Folgers, with Procter & Gamble's marketing clout behind it, was seen as "the good quality coffee." Chicago, where Hills Brothers long had dominated, and the East, where it was newly introduced, provided the only bright spots, with a relatively favorable image. good quality coffee." Chicago, where Hills Brothers long had dominated, and the East, where it was newly introduced, provided the only bright spots, with a relatively favorable image.

The Creation of Juan Valdez In 1960 the National Federation of Coffee Growers of Colombia invented Juan Valdez, a friendly, mustachioed coffee grower who, with his mule, trundled his handpicked beans down from the Colombian mountains. Played by actor Jose Duval, dressed in traditional peasant garb and wearing a sombrero, the proud-yet-humble Juan Valdez captured the American imagination. For once advertising hype matched reality; most Colombian coffee indeed was produced on small mountainside fincas fincas by some 200,000 families headed by men such as Juan Valdez. Although railroads rushed coffee to freighters on the coast, the beans often did take the initial trip down the mountain on muleback. The Colombian beans really did make a fine cup of coffee, superior to most U.S. blends. by some 200,000 families headed by men such as Juan Valdez. Although railroads rushed coffee to freighters on the coast, the beans often did take the initial trip down the mountain on muleback. The Colombian beans really did make a fine cup of coffee, superior to most U.S. blends.

The initial ad campaign broke in January 1960 in ten major U.S. markets, using full-page newspaper spreads. "We don't know who's more stubborn-Juan Valdez or his mule," read the caption underneath a picture of the coffee grower, arms folded, in front of his pack animal. "Juan has a finca (coffee grove) 5,000 feet up in the Colombian Andes. The soil there is rich. The air is moist. Two reasons for the extraordinary coffee of Colombia. The third is stubbornness of growers like Juan." The copy went on to explain the importance of shade trees and hand harvesting. As a trade journal editor observed, the ads made consumers aware of the "costly care and effort poured into a good cup of coffee."

The Juan Valdez campaign carved out a quality image for Colombian coffee and blends that contained it. Spending over $1 million the first year, the federation brought Valdez to television viewers, who could actually see him picking the beans and leading his mule down the mountainside. Five months after the campaign began, there was a 300 percent increase in the number of consumers who identified Colombian coffee as the world's finest. By 1962 the federation had taken the campaign to Canada and Europe. The campaign was so successful that many roasters not only bragged that their blends contained Colombian beans but also began marketing 100 percent Colombian cans. By creating a value-added product, the Colombian beans could command a premium price. In addition, the federation provided free advertising support and the Juan Valdez logo on each can. A 1963 trade ad showed all-Colombian blends from around the world. "They're bringing in markkaa, francs, kroner, guilders . . . and good old dollars too!" the copy bragged.

By the end of 1963 the television campaign had gone national, and Valdez now had a son. "See, Ramon," Valdez said, "we always shade our coffee trees from the sun-so the beans will ripen slowly. And we pick the coffee beans one by one." In 1964 General Foods switched its high-end Yuban brand to 100 percent Colombian coffee, proving that the campaign had triumphed even in Maxwell House country. Five years after the creation of the mythical Colombian coffee grower, over forty U.S. brands and over twenty European roasters featured all-Colombian brands.

In a Vortex Aside from the Juan Valdez phenomenon, however, coffee had entered the vortex of a downward spiral. To stay in business you had to cut prices. To cut prices you had to narrow profit margins. To maintain profitability you had to cut quality.

In 1963 one green coffee broker a.n.a.lyzed the contents of "one of the finest blends," probably Folgers. It contained 20 percent Brazilian beans, 40 percent Colombian, 30 percent Central American-and 10 percent African robusta. Only a decade earlier, no self-respecting blend would have contained any any robusta beans. In such a ma.s.s-market, bottom-line, loss-leader, robusta-blended world, was there any hope for decent coffee in the United States? robusta beans. In such a ma.s.s-market, bottom-line, loss-leader, robusta-blended world, was there any hope for decent coffee in the United States?

Surprisingly enough, the answer was yes. But America's coffee savior would not be a General Foods or Procter & Gamble man, but a disgruntled Dutchman running away from his father.