Jones was a popular, rough-hewn, fast-talking Georgia evangelist, a reformed drinker and darling of the press because he was at the same time pious, earthy, witty, and eminently quotable. One critic dubbed him “the Cracker Evangelist.” Jones made much of his rural, homespun origins, making forays from his Cartersville home to blast the sins of big-city Atlanta, while at the same time carefully flattering the city’s fortunes and future. Actually, it was all an act, because the minister was quite well educated and capable of refined speech. For years, Jones had led the fight for Prohibition, slamming the “red-nosed whisky devils” and complaining that legislators were unable to pass anything—“not even a cheap bar room.”
“How he did hammer the brethren!” one survivor of a Jones revival meeting recalled. “He raked us fore and aft. He gave us grape and canister and all the rest. He abused us and ridiculed us; he stormed at us and laughed at us; he called us flop-eared hounds, beer kegs, and whisky soaks. He plainly said that we were all hypocrites and liars. . . . For six weeks [work was] neglected, and Jones! Jones! Jones! was the whole thing.”
The accumulation of his wit and abuse had its effect. By a slim margin, on November 25, 1885, encouraged by the local option bill recently enacted by the state legislature, Atlanta and Fulton County voted to go dry. In order to give saloonkeepers a chance to close shop, the ban on liquor would begin seven months later, on July 1, 1886, for an experimental period of two years.
Pemberton could see the handwriting on the wall, and not only in Atlanta. The national temperance movement had been gaining momentum for several years. The saloon, found on almost every street corner in America’s cities, offered an all-male bastion where the lower and middle class could repair for whiskey, beer, and a free lunch. The Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, founded in 1874, promoted the notion that virtually all crimes—murder, child abuse, political corruption, industrial accidents—resulted from demon rum or German beer. The emotional attacks of the WCTU polarized entire communities, so that by 1886, a Methodist minister in favor of temperance was murdered in Sioux City, Iowa, while driving his team through a pro-liquor crowd.
The days of a wine-based medicine appeared doomed, though it depended, of course, on what the law interpreted as alcohol. Pemberton frantically experimented with modifications of the Wine Coca formula. Convinced of the virtues of the coca leaf and kola nut, he removed the wine and started testing an assortment of essential oils, primarily distillations of fruit flavors. But they all tasted too bitter to him. Adding sugar masked the bitterness but made for a sickly sweet drink. To counteract that, Pemberton added citric acid. Throughout the winter of 1885, he continued to search for a satisfactory formula.
FRANK ROBINSON ARRIVES
In December, Frank Robinson and David Doe, two Yankees, appeared on Pemberton’s doorstep trying to peddle a machine they called a “chromatic printing device,” capable of producing two colors at one impression. Both were Maine natives but had lived for the past few years in Iowa, sprawling farm country that didn’t offer much market for a slick publishing device. Touring the South, Robinson and Doe landed in Atlanta, where the booming patent medicine industry would presumably pounce on a novel advertising opportunity. Asking around for likely prospects, they were told to try old Doc Pemberton, who seemed always to be looking for new partners and ideas.
After Pemberton talked it over with his old partner, Ed Holland, the four men shook hands on a deal and agreed on a new corporate name, the Pemberton Chemical Company. Holland was the only one who had much capital to invest, but they went in as equal partners. Pemberton contributed his talents and laboratory, and Robinson and Doe put in their printing machine. The firm’s letterhead soon bragged that “the great wonder of the world is printing two colors in a newspaper at one impression,” but Atlanta publishers never responded favorably to the novelty.
THE COCA-COLA LABORATORY
Throughout the winter and early spring of 1886, Pemberton obsessively experimented with his new coca and kola “temperance” drink, sending it down to Venable’s soda fountain at Jacobs’ Pharmacy for repeated trial runs. Pemberton’s nephew, Lewis Newman, visiting from college, was one of the errand boys:
My last visit to Auntie’s was when Uncle John was giving cococola a try out and he was even more glad to see me than usual. He was eager to show me through his “factory” and to tell me that he had begun selling “my temperance drink,” as he called it. . . . Uncle John sent me with an order for a drink and [told me] to wait in Jacobs Pharmacy to hear comments of those who came for Coca cola when it was first introduced. [It sold about] 3 to 5 gallons per day.
Both Newman and John Turner, who apprenticed with Pemberton around the same time, remembered being sent down to the drugstore to get a drink of Coca-Cola for Pemberton, because there was no carbonated water at the laboratory. This contradicts the Company dogma that Coca-Cola was accidentally mixed with soda water about a year later.
Lewis Newman described his uncle’s 1886 laboratory, revealing how the myth of the root doctor stirring his kettle probably began:
The remodeling and equipment of the Marietta Street house absorbed all the money Uncle John had or could get. . . . The wonderful part of the equipment, to me at least, was the enormous filter made of matched flooring, wide at the top and narrowing to the base. It was built through the floor of a second story room and the ceiling of the room below. This big hamper-like receptacle was filled with “Chattahoochee River* washed sand,” Uncle John explained. . . . The prepared ingredients of coca cola were poured into the top of this filter and treacled through the several wagon loads of washed sand into a metal trough.
My best recollection is that this process was for the purpose of “ripening” the mixture by [letting it] filter through without access of air. There were two large kettles such as sorghum and sugar cane juices were boiled in. . . . Paddles of ash similar to those used in propelling canoes stirred the liquid while it was boiled . . . before [being] taken through the filtering and fermentation process.
This cumbersome method of making Coca-Cola was later abandoned, but Pemberton’s laboratory certainly consisted of more than his kettles. Unfortunately, there is no way of knowing what this original Coca-Cola tasted like after it had been slowly “ripened” through the enormous sand filter.
A PAPER IS READ IN SAVANNAH
In April of 1886, Pemberton was scheduled to deliver a major speech to the annual convention of the Georgia Pharmaceutical Society, but he was too close to a satisfactory formula to tear himself away and travel all the way to Savannah. Instead, he sent the text of the speech to be read aloud. In the paper, he gave a detailed, scholarly account of caffeine and cocaine, including the history of both drugs’ isolation and use. He noted that “caffeine, as obtained from tea and coffee in this country, is inferior to that manufactured from the kola nuts by Merck, of Darmstadt.”
Pemberton’s real passion, however, was obviously the coca leaf. “All of the medical journals are full of its praises and I am perplexed to know where to begin and how to end so interesting a subject,” he wrote. “Never in the history of the medical world has a remedial agent, within so short a space of time, risen from comparative obscurity to such practical . . . importance. The article went up like a rocket amidst the universal plaudits of the medical profession all over the world.” The veteran pharmacist then enumerated the many benefits of coca, including an account of Koller’s experiments with eye surgery. Interestingly, he made the same point as Mariani—that the Peruvians did not value the coca leaf with the largest amount of cocaine, preferring a milder leaf with a better blend of alkaloids. Pemberton obviously had conducted extensive experiments with the coca leaf by this time: “I must say, after considerable experience, that of many samples sent me by reputable houses, only about one out of one dozen samples proved to be of any value, many of the samples containing no Coca whatever.”
A HISTORIC NAMING CONTEST
At almost the exact moment this speech was bei
ng read in Savannah, Pemberton finally pronounced himself satisfied with his new product, but he was still calling it simply “my temperance drink.” He needed a good name. All four of the partners brainstormed and submitted potential titles. It would be interesting (and amusing) to hear what they were, but all we know is that Frank Robinson came up with Coca-Cola. Everyone agreed it was the best name, not only because it described the two principal drug ingredients (damiana having fallen from the formula) but because it had an alliterative ring.
Triple (and sometimes quadruple) alliterations were in vogue, particularly in Atlanta, allowing a tongue-twisting tour of the alphabet: Botanic Blood Balm, Cope-land’s Cholera Cure, Goff’s Giant Globules, Dr Jordan’s Joyous Julep, Ko-Ko Tulu, Dr Pierce’s Pleasant Purgative Pellets, Radway’s Ready Relief, Swift’s Sure Specific. Robinson later wrote that he created the name “Coca-Cola” not only to indicate the key ingredients, but “because it was euphonious, and on account of my familiarity with such names as ‘S.S.S.’ and ‘B.B.B.’” Robinson and The Coca-Cola Company later had good reason to emphasize the poetic rather than descriptive character of the name. For over seventy years, the fact that the name clearly stemmed from its ingredients would inspire harried Coca-Cola lawyers to write tortured legal briefs arguing just the opposite. By 1959, the president of The Coca-Cola Company was referring to it as a “meaningless but fanciful and alliterative name.”
EARLY SUCCESS
At first, the new drink sold moderately well, at least in Atlanta. Pemberton, who had worked so hard on the formula, now turned the manufacture over to Robinson and took a rest. Busy brewing the stuff, Robinson soon devoted all of his time to the one drink. He made it, promoted it as best he could on a limited budget, and sold it. Further, he recognized that Coca-Cola could be marketed as a dual-purpose product. It was a stimulating medicine to cure headaches and depression, but it was also a new soda fountain drink with a unique taste. In his first ad, which ran in the Atlanta Journal on May 29, 1886, he emphasized its qualities as a beverage: “Coca-Cola. Delicious! Refreshing! Exhilarating! Invigorating! The new and popular soda fountain drink containing the properties of the wonderful Coca plant and the famous Cola nut.” Although this first effort featured “Coca-Cola” in block letters, Robinson worked on the script logo over the winter, introducing the familiar Spencerian handwriting for the first time in a June 16, 1887, ad.
Compared with most promotions of this period, the first Coca-Cola ad was remarkably brief, pointing the way to modern advertising. It first used the adjectives, “delicious and refreshing,” which would become virtually synonymous with Coca-Cola. Unlike Pemberton’s tours de force of the past, Robinson avoided lengthy Victorian perorations, nor did he mention the doctor by name. Robinson apparently wanted the drink to be set apart, not just another of Pemberton’s preparations. The inventor himself used Robinson’s adjectives when he wrote the label for his new syrup, but otherwise the prose was vintage Pemberton:
COCA-COLA SYRUP AND EXTRACT For Soda Water and other Carbonated Beverages. This Intellectual Beverage and Temperance Drink contains the valuable Tonic and Nerve Stimulant properties of the Coca plant and Cola (or Kola) nuts, and makes not only a delicious, exhilarating, refreshing and invigorating Beverage (dispensed from the soda water fountain or in other carbonated beverages), but a valuable Brain Tonic and a cure for all nervous affections—Sick Head-Ache, Neuralgia, Hysteria, Melancholy, etc. The peculiar flavor of COCA-COLA delights every palate.
There was another good reason for the brevity of Robinson’s original ad: it was cheaper. Because Pemberton and his partners had limited funds, their newspaper ads were sporadic. During the first year of the drink’s existence, total advertising expense amounted to around $150. Although that was not a great deal of money, it bought a sizable amount of exposure for Coca-Cola. Large banner-style oilcloth signs cost a dollar apiece, streetcar signs a little over a penny, and posters about a third of a cent. A thousand coupons for sample drinks could be printed for a dollar.
Robinson soon arranged for an oilcloth sign to be pinned to the awning of Jacobs’ drugstore—the drink’s first point-of-purchase advertising, with red lettering on a white background ordering patrons to “DRINK COCA-COLA 5¢.” Within a year, there were oilcloth signs advertising Coca-Cola at fourteen Georgia soda fountains. Thousands of Coca-Cola posters were distributed, while every streetcar in Atlanta carried an ad for the drink.
Only two days after the drink’s introduction, Pemberton had written an arch note to Jacobs’ Pharmacy complaining that “a certain individual, best remaining unnamed,” had refused to sample Coca-Cola. “Do not give him a free sample,” Pemberton wrote, because “profits will not permit such extravagance.” He did, however, promise a refund if the drink failed to satisfy. Soon, however, Robinson convinced the doctor that he had been wrong to think that profits wouldn’t permit the “extravagance” of giving away a nickel glass of Coca-Cola. On the contrary, future profits demanded it. Robinson had tickets printed up, to be redeemed at local soda fountains, offering free drinks and, using the Atlanta city directory, mailed them to prospective customers and gave them to traveling salesmen to distribute. Once they tasted Coca-Cola, new patrons were sure to come back for more, Robinson reasoned. He promised the soda fountain owners that he would redeem their tickets.
Meanwhile, the dreaded onset of local Prohibition arrived on July 1, 1886. In an orgy of self-congratulation, Atlanta became a pioneer as the first major city in the United States to swear off liquor. “ATLANTA DRY” the front page of the Constitution announced, “The First of July Marks a New Era.” It is unclear, however, just how dry the city actually was. In the same paper there appeared an ad for “Duffy’s Pure Malt Whiskey for Medicinal Use, Absolutely Pure and Unadulterated. In Use in Hospitals, Curative Institutions, Infirmaries. Cures Consumption, Hemorrhages, and all Wasting Diseases.” Prohibition apparently did not affect the Kimball House, whose liquor license didn’t run out until October 9. The crowds there became so rowdy that the management no longer allowed drinking on the premises, forcing consumers to take their booze with them. A Kimball House ad in the October 5, 1886, Constitution warned buyers that they’d better stock up: “Will sell in quantities.”
Not surprisingly, then, Pemberton was advertising French Wine Coca again soon afterwards, now claiming extraordinary longevity for those regular coca users: “Instances are recorded of persons who have lived over 120, 130, 140, and even over 150 years.” Pemberton also began calling his Wine Coca “the Great ‘EuBion’ and Temperance Drink.” If he could really get away with selling Wine Coca as a temperance beverage during Prohibition, sales should rise dramatically.
They did. Though Prohibition was resoundingly voted out on November 26, 1887, sales of French Wine Coca and Coca-Cola were booming long before that. On May 1, 1887, an article in the Constitution stated that “the daily sales are five gross for the wine coca. The sales within the last few weeks for the coca-cola syrup amounted to six hundred gallons. Both the coca-cola syrup and the wine coca are being sold throughout the United States, and everywhere are coming orders for the goods, and testimonials unsolicited pouring in on all sides.” Although the paper undoubtedly exaggerated the national market for the hometown products, these figures are still impressive. “The goods manufactured by this firm,” the article bragged, “are not ‘nostrums’ by any means but are pharmaceutical preparations and are recognized as such by the elite of the medical profession everywhere.”
At 720 bottles a day, French Wine Coca sales still far outstripped those of Coca-Cola. Nonetheless, considering that the soda fountain season had only just begun, Coca-Cola’s six hundred-gallon sale was a considerable achievement. Because each gallon of Coca-Cola syrup ideally yielded 128 drinks (one ounce per drink), the six hundred gallons translated to 76,800 drinks. Frank Robinson later downplayed the first year’s sales, testifying under oath that “from May 1886 until May 1887 . . . he [Pemberton] sold twenty-five or thirty gallons, maybe, something like th
at.” Either his memory was faulty or he was lying. At any rate, the twenty-five-gallon figure for that first year has become part of inaccurate Company lore.
The spring also brought changes in personnel. The shadowy Mr. Doe withdrew from the partnership, taking the printing machine with him as his share. He was replaced by M. P. Alexander, a Memphis pharmacist described in the same article as “an energetic, thorough business man [who] will reflect credit upon any business with which he is connected.” Because the stock of Pemberton Chemical Company had been increased by $10,000, it is reasonable to assume that Alexander brought cash as well as energy to the partnership, which is probably why he immediately assumed the presidency. At the same time, Woolfolk Walker, “a young man of fine business tact,” joined the firm as a salesman. A Columbus native, Walker had served as a private in Pemberton’s Cavalry during the Civil War. Probably as a result of war wounds, Walker had a pronounced limp; he was to play a key role in the early history of Coca-Cola.
Finally, though he was not mentioned in the article, Charley Pemberton appeared on the payroll for this period and learned to make Coca-Cola, freeing Robinson for more intense promotion. Dr. Pemberton’s only child was thirty-three years old and, according to all accounts, womanized and drank too much. The young Pemberton had been a gifted athlete, the champion catcher for a local baseball team back in 1872, but somehow he had gone sour (his friend Lewis Newman wrote of a failed romance). Now Charley’s talents were directed at the poolroom in the local saloon. Concerned about his son’s future, Dr. Pemberton hoped Charley would eventually take over his business.
For God, Country, and Coca-Cola Page 5
