Duncan Hines

by Louis Hatchett

  At the 10th annual Duncan Hines Family Dinner held at the Morrison Hotel in Chicago on 8 May 1951, Hines told those gathered at the event that he and Clara had traveled through 39 states since they had last gathered a year earlier. While on these travels, said Hines, he been given both the time and the opportunity to reflect upon the many notable and significant changes in the restaurant industry that had transpired during the previous fifteen years, including advances in sanitation and better preparation of food. With this change, he noted, had come a wider acceptance among the American public in attitudes toward eating out. He cited as evidence the more than 40 million people who now ate out every day. He congratulated the restaurateurs for their efforts in upgrading their kitchens and making American restaurant cuisine respectable. He told them that the ranks of the Duncan Hines Family would continue to swell because he was getting fifty restaurant recommendations in the mail every day. Everyone, it seemed, had a new adventure in good eating for him to explore; something, he told them, should come from his imminent investigations. In the meantime, he urged them to join the American Restaurant Association if they had not already done so; the association was full of ideas to help them improve their trade. Likewise, he urged all hotel and motel managers in attendance to subscribe to Hotel Monthly and American Motel for new ideas on how to make their businesses even better. Hines insisted that they should never stop improving their establishments, whether for dining or lodging or a combination of the two. He told them that “there is no question but that cooking in public eating places in America is improving faster perhaps than many of you realize. A gratifying percentage of the public are becoming more food conscious and they will not patronize places where the food is not consistently good…. All over America thousands and thousands of people are giving serious thought about choosing the right place to eat.”566 Hines was very proud of his “family” members and the part they had played in changing how Americans viewed the restaurant industry—and just as proud of the considerable part he had played in bringing about that transformation.

  At this same gathering Hines told several anecdotes from his many years on the road. Most of the stories he told that evening were ones he had recounted many times before. He did tell a new story, however, one that came about during his recent trip to Mexico. He had arrived in Tamazunchale at the home of a friend, whom Hines would only identify as Col. Zelinsky. “It was rather late for dinner,” said Hines, but the hour of the day was immaterial as far as the Colonel was concerned. Soon after he and Clara had arrived at their host’s home, Col. Zelinsky announced that he had arranged to serve them an exceedingly fine dinner, one that would make their mouths water for more. The Colonel told the couple that his cook would be serving wiener schnitzel that evening; it was, he boasted, the best wiener schnitzel ever served in Mexico. Hines, his interest peaked by the Colonel’s braggadocio, agreed to try it. But when dinner was finally served, Hines quickly changed his mind. “When the wiener schnitzel was brought,” he said, “I thought it looked very queer.”567 It was then that he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Experience should have taught me,” he confessed, “that I was asking for trouble [when I agreed to eat] a European specialty prepared…in a dusty little Mexican town. I should have asked for frijoles refritos and tortillas and let it go at that.” As Hines was about to stab his fork into his meal, he examined it more carefully. “What I saw appalled me,” he said. “The Colonel’s pride and joy was unlike any wiener schnitzel I’d ever seen, and I’ve never seen anything like it since, either. It was an odd color that I couldn’t quite make out in the dimly lighted room, and it curled up at the edges like an old shoe that has laid out in the sun and the rain for a long time. The odor that arose from it was, to say the least, unpleasant. I certainly wasn’t going to eat that!”568

  Thinking fast, he remembered that one should not drink any water in Mexico unless he was crazy or desperate, so he asked Col. Zelinsky to get him a bottle of beer. “While he was gone,” said Hines, “I cut off one corner, wiped it off with my napkin and stuck it in my pocket. When Col. Zelinsky came back, I told him that I was awfully sorry, but I had forgotten that I was under doctor’s orders and was not allowed to eat any meat. But that it looked so good that I hadn’t been able to resist trying one bite. This seemed to satisfy him, but when I looked at it the next morning, I concluded that it was a piece of stewed burro’s ear, for it was [as] blue as anything. I still don’t know what would have happened to me if I had tried to eat it.”569 When Hines left Tamazunchale, he did so with few regrets, but he couldn’t help wondering if someone had missed a burro lately.570

  While Duncan Hines had no doubt left his mark on America’s social landscape, as the decade of the 1950s began his thoughts repeatedly turned to a question that increasingly vexed him. How was he going to dispose of the hobby that had become a publishing success? More pointedly, could he relinquish control of what he had started? And did he really want to?

  17

  THE OFFICE LIFE

  By 1951 Duncan Hines had, as the cliché goes, “too many irons in the fire.” When he turned seventy-one in March, he knew he was not immortal. He no doubt wondered what Clara’s future would hold should he suddenly pass away. With this thought hanging about the periphery of his consciousness, he began to probe into the possibility of finding someone to take over his book publishing business. He wanted someone in whom he could have complete trust, someone who would make the decisions he made, someone who would continue to promote his business as he did. Although he greatly trusted Roy Park, he chose not to ask him for help in this matter. Park had his hands full promoting his name via canned and boxed grocery products; asking him to assume control over his book publishing operation seemed inappropriate. So he looked within the ranks of his family for help. One of the first people he turned to was his sister’s son, also named Duncan Hines. For a short time the younger Hines worked for his famous uncle, but he quit after about three weeks because his uncle was partial to “blowing up” at him over usually inconsequential matters. The sad truth is that while reason told Hines he needed to transfer his business over to another, his emotions would not allow him to relinquish control. Adventures in Good Eating was his child. Like a parent, he had nourished it, developed it and witnessed its spectacular growth. The mere fact that someone, particularly a relative, might come along and suggest some (probably efficient) modifications was more than he could bear; the situation could be likened to a famed portraitist watching a mischievous seven-year-old draw a mustache on a work of art upon which he had labored for many years. Nevertheless, between 1950 and 1952 Hines tried to find someone to adopt his creation wholesale with the unmentioned proviso that it not be changed in any way. As he was to learn, painfully, it was a qualification no one could accept.

  One of the people whom Hines had in mind as a replacement was an army air corp officer. A few years earlier, in 1946 and early 1947, Hines had spoken with his relative by marriage, Clarence Herbert Welch of Los Angeles, California, about taking over Adventures in Good Eating, Inc. In 1945 he learned Welch was considering leaving the armed services and asked him if he would be interested in administering the business affairs of Adventures in Good Eating. Hines admitted the financial aspects of his business was not his strongest suit. Although his background was in sales, public relations was where he really shined. Someone else, he thought, should handle the clerical responsibilities. Welch agreed to accept the position if he could conclusively determine there was enough money in it to support himself and his family.

  In early January 1946 Welch visited Bowling Green and gave the business a thorough top-to-bottom investigation. Everything Hines had in his office was turned over to his discerning eye. He went through the company’s financial records. He read every scrap of paper in the file cabinets. But after he had completed his probing study, he was still puzzled as to how the man made any money. It all seemed so chaotic. To Welch’s organized mind, Hines’s methods of accounting and office organizati
on were enough to drive anyone crazy. It was a patchwork operation, not an efficient, businesslike venture. He finally concluded that Adventures in Good Eating was nothing more than a glamorous hobby, and certainly not a business. After several frustrating months of trying to get some straight answers from Hines and his accountant/bookkeeper, Cecil “Hoot” Holland, Welch decided not to run Hines’s business, not only because he believed it could not generate enough money for him and his family, but also because he believed Hines was not serious about letting him manage it. There was also another reason. Between the time the subject was first broached and his decision not to accept, Hines had married Clara. In Welch’s eyes, she swiftly took control of his business affairs and quickly rendered moot any service he could have provided.

  Welch concluded later that even if Hines had never married Clara, it was unlikely he would have accepted the job. It was his contention that Hines, the printer, overruled Hines, the businessman. As he saw it, Hines was more interested in producing a high-quality book than he was in running an efficient business or making much money beyond his material needs. His reasoning in this regard came about one day after carefully examining Hines’s books and business practices. He sat down with the older man and had a frank talk with him. Welch quickly came to the point. “Duncan,” he said, “you’ve got a major problem with the book.” Hines asked what was the matter. Speaking specifically of Adventures in Good Eating but also including in his remarks Lodging for a Night and the Vacation Guide, Welch said, “The problem is that it’s too good, so far as the printing is concerned. It never wears out.” He pointed out, for example, his practice of putting glue between the book’s cover and its fly leafs. One could not pull back the book covers and easily pull them off the way one could with a standard paperback book. “That’s a great book,” Welch said to him. “That’s a quality book. But Duncan, what you’re selling is a directory. It’s got to wear out every year.” A fine, well-produced book, he added, had not only wrecked his balance sheet, it had also inadvertently slightly harmed his reputation. Recalling some letters he had reviewed in the files, he said, “You’re getting complaints from people about restaurants that you’ve not recommended in four years, or you’re getting complaints from people about restaurants that are no longer in business. Or you’re getting complaints about a restaurant that has been deleted in your new book but is still in last year’s edition. The problem is that your customers’ old book hasn’t worn out, and as a result they haven’t bought a new one. What you’re doing is making people keep obsolete directories. These directories you’re selling should self-destruct every year because you’ve got to sell books. That’s the nature of the business. And you’re hurting your reputation, Duncan. When people try one of these old guidebooks, they’re eating at places that are no longer recommended by you. And when the food is no good, they’re saying to themselves that they don’t understand how you got your reputation to begin with.” Despite Welch’s best efforts, Hines just could not understand Welch’s reasoning; the thought of producing a cheap product horrified him. No matter how many times Welch explained that a cheaper quality directory would net him more money, he simply could not bring himself to lessen the quality of anything associated with his name.

  Welch’s other problem with his business practices was Hines’s refusal to endorse products; this was, of course, two years before Hines met Roy Park. Welch told him, “You’ve got a fine name. You’ve got a great reputation. And if Duncan Hines endorses something and approves of it, then people will conclude that it must be good.” Hines pooh-poohed this idea, branding it as “commercial.” Welch countered that since the books produced by Adventures in Good Eating, Inc. were not making enormous sums of money, he should look at endorsements as “bread on the table.” “You’ve got to increase your income,” he said. Hines still contended that endorsing products was too commercial for his taste, and that the answer to any financial problem his company faced was to sell more books. Welch countered this assertion by contending that, based on his examination of the company’s financial records, such as they were, selling more books was not going to help his profit margin. His books ignored inflation and were still sold at $1.50. The production costs were rising in spite of this fixed price and increased sales of the books would only exacerbate the company’s financial problems. When it became apparent Hines would not see his logic, Welch gave up. He told others later, “I just can’t change Duncan. He’s a gentleman of the old school. His word is his bond, and he just doesn’t think people would appreciate it if he incorporated my recommended changes.”571

  In 1951 Clara persuaded her husband to hire her half-brother, Bob Wright. The younger man worked for his famous brother-in-law for a few months. Wright’s first job was billing those who rented the “Recommended by Duncan Hines” signs. Although his employment was brief, he developed some firm opinions about his famous in-law and his business. Hines, he believed, made most of his money from his sign rental business; he charged enough to cover his gas, lodgings and meals. Although over 9,000 establishments were eventually included in all three guidebooks, only 1200 to 1500 of them took advantage of the famous signs bearing Hines’s approval. His sign rental business translated into an annual profit of almost $38,000 a year—a hefty sum when one considers that the average income in the United States in 1951 was a little over $3,000.572

  Before the Second World War Hines had a profitable country ham business, but by 1951 it scarcely existed. The only ham orders he filled now were those for special friends—and only if they asked. When he received a request for a country ham, it was now his practice to go downtown and obtain one from Sam Nahm, a relation of Clara’s first husband, who ran a Bowling Green feed store.573 Sometimes he got his country hams from Jimmy Siddens in Bowling Green; other times he ordered one from a favorite outlet in Cadiz, Kentucky, a town well-known for producing marvelous slabs of Kentucky’s favorite delicacy.574 However, for some unexplained reason, in the summer of 1951, Hines briefly flirted with the idea of getting back into the country ham business—and he believed his young brother-in-law was just the person to carry out his plans. Hines had it all worked out. He had the young man’s future all planned. He told his brother-in-law that he was going to be the manager of this new enterprise. All he had to do was travel deep into the western Kentucky countryside and arrange with ham producers to supply him with choice two-year-old country hams. Wright made one trip into the country with him to line up a couple of potential ham suppliers, but for some reason, after a burst of energy into this potential lucrative direction, nothing further came of his grandiose plans. It never got off the ground because Hines, as usual, had too many other projects going at once, and there was no time left for this one. After working for Hines for three months, Wright saw more rewarding employment opportunities and left Bowling Green for a job in San Francisco.575

  Because of his age, and because of Clara’s prodding, Hines slowed down his busy schedule. She insisted he not venture out on the highway as often. This was easier said than done; there were times when Hines could not avoid having a jam-packed agenda on his calendar. But most of his days throughout the 1950s were characterized by a relative peacefulness. Duncan Hines had just enough to keep himself busy. No more. No less. He could remain in Bowling Green for longer periods because his books continued to sell. Year after year, sales for all four publications increased. Keeping himself before the public to generate sales no longer seemed urgent. With the exception of the Vacation Guide, his books always sold out. Paul Moore, who oversaw book production from about 1947 through 1953, stated that a typical printing run for Adventures in Good Eating in the early 1950s was approximately 25,000 copies. A comparable printing for an edition of Adventures in Good Cooking approximated 17,000 copies, while a print run for an edition of Lodging for a Night usually came to about 10,000 copies. All three books far out-paced sales of the Vacation Guide, which rarely sold out of its annual 5,000 unit print run.576

  Hines and Clara were not o
n the road these days nearly as much as they had been. For as much as three months of the year, they stayed home. A typical automobile trip at this time might take them north to Omaha, Nebraska, west to Seattle, Washington, south to San Francisco, California, and west to Dallas, Texas. They would spend three or four days in each city before eventually returning to Bowling Green. During these trips Hines seldom popped into restaurant kitchens unannounced, checking on the quality of the establishment’s cuisine. By and large, that was a thing of the past. Besides, he did not have to since the public was now doing it for him. By 1950 his very active dinner detectives were still with him, but they had dwindled to about a dozen individuals. Although the general public was helpful to Hines’s cause, his “detectives” were still the ones he trusted most.577

  Many people worked for Duncan Hines, but the ones who made his operation an efficient one were his secretaries. By 1950 much of the postwar chaos Clarence Welch had witnessed four years earlier had vanished. To be fair, Welch inspected his operation at a time when book orders were coming in so fast that his office staff could barely keep up with the demand. But now the operation functioned like clockwork. Without his secretaries, Hines could not have put out any of his guidebooks, and he knew it. It is unlikely all their names will ever be known. Many of them, like Edith Wilson, Emelie Tolman and Olga Lindquist are long dead, but some employees have left behind their recorded impressions.

  One such person was Mary Jo Agee, who worked for Hines during the early 1950s. Agee was a woman in her late twenties or early thirties with two children. She was several years older than her fellow office colleagues. “She was a short person who wore four-inch high-heels all the time, even while doing her housework,” said one of her co-workers.578 Her job was to fill book orders. She typed the shipping labels and sent customers their bills. When she finished these tasks, she gave the labels and bills to John Henry Foster, Hines’s handyman and groundskeeper, who hand-wrapped all orders before taking them to the post office. Sometimes Foster’s efforts did not suit the fastidiously neat specifications Hines laid down for him. Once Foster put the wrong label on a box of books, and the mistake sent Hines into a state of prolonged vocal exasperation. As always, however, he quickly cooled off within a few minutes. Sometimes, though, Hines hired employees who did not suit him at all. One woman he hired simply could do nothing right in his estimation and he soon dismissed her. She was not the only one. If an employee ever made a mistake, such as sending a customer a cookbook instead of a guidebook, it was usually only a matter of time before that person found employment elsewhere. As was the case in Chicago years earlier, his lack of a discernible criteria for selecting those he hired, caused him to have unnecessary fits. He knew what qualities in a person he did not like but apparently could not detect them during the initial interview. As a result, those he employed was a hit-or-miss affair.579