Candy: A Century of Panic and Pleasure

Candy Professor is no longer active, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get your fix.
Like candy? Like history? Like Candy Professor? Then you’ll LOVE my book, Candy: A Century of Panic and Pleasure. Get it now, before it goes all sticky and stale.


March 19, 2016 at 2:18 pm Leave a comment

Today’s Interesting Candy Facts

1. If you spill some M&Ms while you are riding in the car, and you happen to accidentally sit on one for several hours, and it stains your white pants, you can get the stain out with Spray and Wash.

2. If you are at a restaurant, and they give out those red peppermints in cellophane, and you put one in your pocket for later, and you forget about it, and you put your pants in the wash, you will find the wrapper at the bottom of your washer. You will not find the peppermint.

3. If you are driving home for several hours in the dark, and you stop at a gas station to “use the facilities,” and you feel like you ought to buy something since you are using all their nice facilities, and you notice a new kind of “3x Chocolate Snickers” featuring chocolate-ish nougat and chocolate-ish caramel along with the usual chocolate coating, and you buy it, and you break it into pieces in the car to share with your family, and your loving spouse drops some of the crumbs of chocolate onto his shirt, and they melt, you will need that Spray and Wash again. You will not, however, need to try another 3x Chocolate Snickers.

Have any other interesting candy facts to share?

January 21, 2014 at 12:45 pm 3 comments

CBS Sunday Morning on the Tootsie Trail

CBS Sunday Morning broadcast a fun segment on the mysteries of Tootsie Roll…pay attention and you’ll catch a glimpse of yours truly!

January 6, 2014 at 9:40 am Leave a comment

Tootsie Roll Tragedy: The Real Leo Hirschfeld Story

It’s 1909, and The Stern & Saalberg Company has a candy hit. Americans just can’t get enough of their “Chocolate Tootsie Rolls.” Those Tootsie Rolls have gotten so popular that they have to take out ads in the trade papers cautioning their customers against accepting inferior imitation. But who is this “Stern & Saalberg” who is taking all the credit for Chocolate Tootsie Rolls? Where is Leo Hirschfeld?

As candy nostalgists know, Leo Hirschfeld is the official hero of the Tootsie Roll saga. Today, Tootsie Roll is one of the top candy sellers in the U.S. And it all started with Leo, a poor Austrian immigrant with a dream and some family candy recipes. According to the Tootsie Roll Industries company history, Hirschfeld began selling the chewy candies in his little shop in New York City in 1896. The next thing you know, it’s 1917, Tootsie Rolls are a huge commercial hit, and the company changes its name to “The Sweets Company of America.” From that point out, the Tootsie empire grows in leaps and bounds. The story of Tootsie Roll after 1917 is one of a big candy company getting bigger.

There doesn’t seem to be anybody named Stern or Saalberg in official Tootsie Roll history. So what was happening in that murky gap between 1896 and 1917? And what happened to Leo Hirschfeld?

Let’s follow Leo along as he leaves his native Austria and struggles to make it in America. When Leo got off the steamship Neckar in the New York Harbor in 1884, he had two things: big dreams, and empty pockets. His father’s trade was candy, so that’s what he knew. He got to work. He set up shop in Brooklyn, sold some candy to the neighborhood kids. So far, so good.

But here’s where things get a little complicated. The common version of the story (here or here) is that Hirschfeld came up with the candy that would become Tootsie Rolls in 1896, made and wrapped them by hand, and sold them in his Brooklyn shop. A year later, seeing their popularity, he “merged” with Stern & Saalberg.

A nice story, right? But I uncovered evidence that blasts some serious holes in the official line on Tootsie Rolls.

In 1913, a reporter for the Pittsburgh Press sat down with Hirschfeld and three others who had shared his cabin on the Neckar in 1884. All of them were by then extremely wealthy. Each had a remarkable rags-to-riches story. One was a movie mogul, another made a fortune in fancy goods. And Hirschfeld’s story was all about the candy business. “[Hirschfeld] fought his way up until he became Superintendent of the Stern-Saalberg concern. Then he invented a certain children’s confection”…the Tootsie Roll. Notice the way Hirschfeld told the story to this reporter in 1913: first he went to work for Stern & Saalberg, then he invented the Tootsie Roll. And what’s all this about “fought his way up” in the Stern & Saalberg company? That doesn’t sound exactly like a merger of equals.

I went looking for a record of Hirschfeld in Brooklyn. The Brooklyn city directory lists Hirschfeld as a “confectioner” with a home address on Myrtle Avenue until 1890. Then in 1891, he moves to Manhattan. His new address is 356 W. 45th Street. So, no candy shop in Brooklyn in 1896. But why did he move?

I dug a little deeper, and found more clues. Leo Hirschfeld is remembered as the man with the candy recipe. But he was really an inventor, of never-before imagined candies and confections and machines as well. The U.S. Patent Office awarded one patent to Leo Hirschfeld in December 1894 and two more in July of 1895: US Patent 530,417 for a machine for depositing confectionery into molds, U.S. Patent 543,733 for a bonbon dipping machine, and U.S. Patent 543,744 which describes a novel fork for dipping bonbons. (Hirschfeld would receive at least four other patents, not a bad record for inventions.)

The 1890s were boom years for candy making technology; making money in candy was all about volume, and volume was all about the machines. A good patent could be worth a lot. But in 1894 and 1895, the U.S. Patent Office records that Leo Hirshfeld assigned half of each of these patents to Julius Stern and Jacob Saalberg. Why would he do that?

Here’s what I think happened: sometime between May 1, 1891 and May 1, 1892, Hirschfeld moved to Manhattan because he took a job with Stern & Saalberg. His Manhattan address is only five blocks from the offices of Stern & Saalberg Co. at 311 W. 40th Street. This also explains why he would assign a half interest in his patents to Julius Stern and Jacob Saalberg. They were his employers.

Well before Stern & Saalberg started selling Tootsie Rolls, they had another hot item: Bromangelon Jelly Powder.  Jelled desserts were all the rage at the turn of the century. Jell-O is the only one we remember, but around 1900 you could have your pick of such temptations as Jellycon, Tryphora, and Bro-Man-Gel-On (also known as Bromangelon). And who had invented this alchemical substance with the doubly masculine name, a pink powder which, when you added hot water, tranformed into sweet fruity jelly? Why, Leo Hirschfeld.

The first documented evidence of the existence of Bromangelon that I have uncovered is the catalog for the Nineteenth Triennial Exhibition of the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic Association held in Boston in October and November of 1895. Stern & Saalberg participated in the Exhibition to showcase their remarkable product, Bromangelon. They explained that the unusual name meant “Angel’s Food.” They may have just been trying to impress the judges with this little tid-bit. They seemed quite casual about calling it “Bro-Man-Gel-On” or “Broman-gelon” in their ads, and neither of these seems to have anything to do with angels. Angels or no, the judges, finding the ingredient “pure” and the taste “pleasant,” awarded this dessert jelly preparation a Bronze Medal.

Bromangelon was big business for Stern & Saalberg from the late 1890s through the first years of 1900. Jellied dessert powders like Bromangelon were one of the first “convenience” foods that would transform American cooking in the twentieth century. Dessert was suddenly just a matter of some hot water and some imagination. And what you could do with the stuff. An ad for Shredded Wheat Biscuits in Good Housekeeping Magazine in 1900 included a recipe and a full color illustration of “Shredded Wheat Biscuit Jellied Apple Sandwich” that involved soaking the shredded wheat in Bromangelon to startling effect. Many other recipes in popular magazines of the early 1900s included “Bromangelon” as an ingredient to whip up such novelties as “Nut Bromangelon,” “Bromangelon Snow Pudding,” or “Orange Sponge.” Bromangelon is long gone, but in the 1900s and 1910s, it was well-known, and well-used, all over the country.

Stern & Saalberg were exhibiting Hirschfeld’s jelly powder in 1895. Together with the patent assignations in 1894 and 1895 and the evidence of Hirshfeld’s move from Brooklyn to Manhattan in 1891, this adds up to a pretty clear case for Hirschfeld working for Stern & Saalberg well before anybody started thinking about Tootsie Rolls.

Hirschfeld worked his way up at Stern & Saalberg Co. In 1904, the entry for Stern & Saalberg in the Trow Co-partnership and Corporation Directory of New York City mentions Hirschfeld for the first time, naming him as one of three “directors.” By 1913, Hirschfeld is the Vice President of Stern & Saalberg, and seven hundred million pieces of Tootsie Roll have rolled out the door and into the mouths and bellies of America. Seven hundred million pieces of candy, even lowly penny candy, is lots of dollars. Hirschfeld and Stern & Saalberg did very well together.

And when did anyone start thinking about Tootsie Rolls? The Stern & Saalberg Co. applied for a trade-mark for “Tootsie” for their “chocolate candy” in November 1908. The trade-mark was registered on September 14, 1909. They stated in their application that “Tootsie” had been used in association with the candy since (drum roll, please)…September 1908.

There was a “Tootsie” in the Stern & Saalberg Co. business before September 1908, but it didn’t have anything to do with candy. Booklets printed to advertise Bromangelon featured “Tattling Tootsie,” a cute little girl whose mischief seems only tangentially connected to the joys of gelatin. We do know who this Tattling Tootsie is. Every story of the genesis of Tootsie Rolls mentions Clara, Leo’s little daughter. Her nickname was “Tootsie,” and the story goes that the candy was christened in her honor. But first, she did her time as the child spokes-model for fruity gelatin.

Did Hirschfeld make or sell a candy resembling the one that would be marketed as “Tootsie Roll” some time before? Maybe. But there is another piece of the Tootsie Roll puzzle. In May of 1907, Hirschfeld applied for a patent for a candy-making technique that would give Tootsie Rolls their distinctive texture (U.S. Patent 903,088; for more on the patent, see my Tough Tootsie, and How it Got to Be That Way). The patent was awarded in November, 1908. The Stern & Saalberg Co. started selling “Tootsie Rolls” in September 1808, and really began a big advertising and marketing push in 1909.

All the patents, trade-marks, and advertising put Tootsie Rolls in motion between 1907 and 1909. As far as I can gather from the evidence, the invention of Tootsie Rolls in 1896 in Hirschfeld’s little Brooklyn candy store is a myth.

Tootsie Rolls made Leo Hirschfeld very rich. He couldn’t have done it on his own, though. Without Stern & Saalberg, an established business with sufficient capital to launch a major candy line, Hirschfeld would have languished in his little Brooklyn house, selling bits of candy to the neighborhood kids. And without Hirschfeld and his inventions, The Stern & Saalberg Company would have gone on as a small candy wholesaler offering “Fluffy Mints” and “Diamond” brand gelatin dessert mix. But The Stern & Saalberg Company went on to become The Sweets Company of America, which in turn became Tootsie Roll Industries, a business today worth well over one billion dollars.

And what happened to Leo Hirschfeld?

The end of the story is not quite so sweet. Hirschfeld left The Sweets Company of America sometime around 1920 to start another candy venture called the Mells Candy Corporation. 1921 was a bad year. His wife was seriously ill, and recuperating in a sanatorium. Hirschfeld himself suffered from a disease of the stomach. On January 13, 1922 he shot himself in his room at the Monterey Hotel at 94th Street and Broadway in Manhattan. He died that same day. The note he left for his attorney said “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help it.”

That’s the official story from his obituary, at any rate.

I think it was more complicated. By the time Stern & Saalberg reorganized as The Sweets Company of America in 1917, Stern and Saalberg were both retired. But Hirschfeld, who had been there longer than anyone else, had never risen beyond Vice-President. Others came in and took over the company. Hirschfeld was a brilliant inventor, but maybe not such a great business man. He was pushed out at The Sweets Company of America, so he ventured out on his own to start fresh with the Mells Candy Corporation. But nothing came of it. Mells was bankrupt by 1924.

What was really going through Hirschfeld’s mind that January day in 1922 when he pulled the trigger? Someone else was selling his Tootsie Rolls, and Mells Candy had nothing to show. He died wealthy, to be sure. But if he had hopes of building a candy dynasty, one he could pass on to his own children, those hopes were dashed by The Sweets Company of America.

By the way, Tootsie Roll for some reason spells Leo’s last name “Hirshfield.” This is not the way Leo spelled it in directories or patents or anyplace else. Until the day he died, it was “Hirschfeld.”

ADDENDUM: After I published this post, Steve Sheehan got in touch with me. It turns out I’m not the only one who’s been poking around in the murky Tootsie Roll past. Steve’s extensive unpublished archival research into Stern & Saalberg and related matters corroborates my findings. He drew my attention to this transcript of an 1896 New York State Assembly Hearing which names “Hirschfeld” first among some 50 employees of the Stern & Saalberg Company. Incontrovertible proof, as Steve puts it, that in 1896 Hirschfeld “was not selling candy out of his store. He was a salaried employee supervising the Stern & Saalberg line.” (Personal communication)

Related Posts:

Sources: In addition to the sources linked or referenced by name in this post, I also consulted Leo Hirschfeld obituaries in  New York Tribune 14 Jan 1922 and New York Times 14 Jan 1922; announcement of Mells bankruptcy auction, New York Times July 30, 1924; various announcements of financing and directors meetings relating to The Sweets Company of America, Wall Street Journal 1919-1920; city and business directories for New York City, Manhattan and Brooklyn.

This article was originally published at in February, 2010

January 4, 2014 at 3:26 pm 1 comment

Halloween Round Up

Halloween on your mind? Here’s a round up of Candy Professor Halloween stories from the archives.

Stories of early twentieth century Halloween. Halloween was parties and pranks. No trick-or-treat yet!

Trick-or-treat, with the ring of the door-bell, the chant, the threat of trick, and the propitiating treat, doesn’t appear until the late 1930s and 1940s. After the conclusion of the Second World War at the end of the 1940s, trick-or-treat takes off. The 1950s were the trick-or-treat golden years:

After all that trick or treating, what if you have too much candy? Here’s a couple of solutions:

Off site, guest posts at The Atlantic Food Channel and Salon:

October 30, 2013 at 10:28 am 2 comments

The Cotton Candy of Tomorrow

2115115958_bc91dfdd8c_mAs every cotton candy lover knows, the treat is at its best when served fresh from the machine. And a big part of the pleasure is watching the magical transformation of powder into spun floss.

The first machine to spin sugar floss was invented in 1897 by a pair of innovators from Tennessee named William Morrison and John C. Wharton. Around the same time, other versions of cotton candy machines appeared and their inventors claimed to be “the first.” But the Morrison and Wharton device was closest to the modern machine.

The mechanism is very simple. Heat melts the sugar, and the centrifugal force created by spinning the apparatus pushes it through a fine mesh. The tiny strands of molten sugar solidify when they hit the air, and cotton candy collects around the sides of the bowl. A skilled confectioner could spin sugar manually off the tines of a fork or similar instrument, but the result would never be so fine, nor could the fluffiness of cotton candy be achieved by hand. So even though manual techniques existed for creating very find strands of sugar, the spinning into fluffy clouds can only be achieved as a machine effect.

Cotton candy must be made fresh, on the spot. A whiff of humidity and it wilts into a sticky mass. As for that pre-bagged stuff at CVS…not even close. So dedicated cotton candy lovers count the days until summer, with its carnivals and county fairs. That’s the way it’s been since 1897. But the cotton candy times, they are a changin’…

I’ve seen the future, down at the multiplex: it’s a big box called the Cotton Candy Factory, a vending machine that makes a fresh, fluffy cotton candy on a stick in under a minute, right before your eyes. The floss is identical in every way to the midway classic, except you don’t  have to step in horse poop to enjoy it. Price per vend? 2 dollars U.S., or 4 dollars N.Y.C.



October 17, 2013 at 4:44 pm 2 comments

Celebrating CANDY with Original Music

CANDY not only tastes good, it sounds good too! In honor of the publication of CANDY, my Fearless Assistant (aka Jelly Bean Baby) has composed an original clarinet solo titled “Candy Books.”

Press play to hear it:


October 16, 2013 at 11:10 am 1 comment

On Pausing at the Window of Ye Olde Candy Kitchen

Today’s old fashioned candy kitchens attract customers by displaying the candy maker in action. We watch pimply faced minimum wage teens stirring the kettle or overseeing the mechanical puller, and think, “I can do that.” The Joy of Cooking still has recipes for pulling taffy and making fudge, the very kinds of candy you are most likely to find being made before your eyes at Ye Olde Candy Kitchen.

What we aren’t likely to realize is that these simple, transparent operations are the exception. Before mechanization and the de-luxurization of sugar, the art of the sugar boiler was secret and restricted to a very few. Modern candy after 1850 was a product of technological developments that quickly took candy out of home-style kitchens. The art of the candy maker was supplemented, and perhaps in our day supplanted, by  engineering.

But both art and engineering have removed candy from the realm of things we can easily comprehend and duplicate, from the days of the sugar plum through the zenith of American candy to our own globalized candy cornucopia. This is the miracle, and the marvel, of modern candy.

October 11, 2013 at 11:17 am 2 comments

Candy Corn-A-Palooza

corn manThis month in candy here at Candy Professor Central it’s “candy corn-a-palooza.” Together with my Fearless Assistant (aka Jelly Bean Baby*), we have been noshing our way through the full spectrum of candy corn offerings.

I’ll be honest with you, it hasn’t always been pretty. Last week, we experienced a most unpleasant sort of surprise in the guise of M&M White Chocolate Candy Corn. Verdict: Don’t go there. In the spirit of gustatory recovery, then, this week we return to the classic: real, authentic candy corn.

Candy corn is a generic bit of mellocreme, invented back in the 1880s. Anybody can sell candy corn, and judging by the offerings in my local drugstores, anybody does. So we decided it was time for a little taste-off. Here are the contenders:

three corns

In the upper left corner, Jelly Belly’s premium gourmet candy corn, 99 cents/ounce.

Immediately below, Brach’s national brand candy corn, 25 cents/ounce.

And rounding out the field, on the right, Rite Aid store brand candy corn, 16 cents/ounce.

Ladies and gentlemen, here’s the bottom line: you get what you pay for. The high-end Jelly Belly product truly is superior. The bits are even, regular, smooth and shiny. The flavor is mild and pleasant. The texture is just a bit grainy, with the lovely chew that distinguishes a fine candy corn. So hands down, it’s better than Brach’s. But it is fair to ask: is it FOUR TIMES better?

Brach’s candy corn is what I grew up with, and I must say I think it is quite fine. Unlike the Jelly Belly corn, Brach’s boasts “real honey” in the mix. The flavor is slightly more salty than Jelly Belly, and once someone says the word “honey” you’ll say, “Oh, yeah, it kinda does taste like honey,” although i suspect the actual amount of honey is infinitesimal. Real honey flavor doesn’t necessarily come from actual honey these days (cf. “natural flavors”).

Texture-wise,  Brach’s is a bit more granular and gritty than Jelly Belly, with a more “full sweet” intensity. This is the quality that has made candy corn the Halloween treat so many hate on. But for me, it’s that mix of chewy and grainy and sweet that I love.

The Brach’s brand started as a family candy business back to the early 1900s. Then all the Brach family died or were killed in gruesome murders. In the 1980s, several changes in corporate ownership took their toll. Production moved to Mexico in 2001. Those were some dark days for Brach’s candy corn, when every bag seemed to be full of misshapen morsels pulled off the rejects line. Happily, Brach’s candy corn has turned the corner; the batch I sampled was quite an improvement. My impression is that the current owner of Brach’s, Ferrara Candy Co., is heavily investing in the whole candy corn line (more on that in a future review), and that has raised the quality.

Now, for our last contender, “generic” candy corn sold under the Rite Aid label. These are weird, let me just start with that. The shape is too angular, the orange is too reddish, they have a dull and listless look overall, and the taste…I can’t figure it out. More vanilla, less honey-salt. I will give these generic grains points on texture, though. The texture actually seems ok, maybe even smoother than the Brach’s. But something is seriously wrong with the production. Let’s have a close up:

corn rite aid

How many pieces are actually in tact? Three? Four? Most of them have lost their white tip, and quite a few have split right down the center. This is such a mess that you can hardly call it candy corn. I would never put a bowl of this out on the table. Even at less than one-fifth the price of the gourmet Jelly Belly corn, this “generic” is no bargain.

Bottom line: if you’re eating for pure pleasure, splurge on the Jelly Belly’s. If you’re having a party, Brach’s is best. As for the generic, I have to give it my lowest ranking: fake candy corn.

If you’re interested in the back story, check out my candy corn history at

*Jelly Bean Baby will be a familiar character to readers of CANDY: A CENTURY OF PANIC AND PLEASURE

October 10, 2013 at 12:24 pm 1 comment

Starred Reviews for CANDY

Reviewers for both Booklist and Kirkus have awarded CANDY: A CENTURY OF PANIC AND PLEASURE the coveted star!

Kirkus (starred review):

“Though the subject matter may be fluffy, the treatment is substantive and significant, representing an important contribution to the literature about what, and how, we eat in 21st-century America.”

Read the full Kirkus review here

Booklist (starred review):

“…lively, engaging, and deliciously descriptive….With a helpful heaping of information in every verbal bite, this fascinating social and culinary history gives readers a deeper understanding of the powerful forces at work behind the brightly colored wrappers.”

Read the full Booklist review here

October 8, 2013 at 11:22 am Leave a comment

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Candy: A Century of Panic and Pleasure

Welcome to Candy Professor

Candy in American Culture What is it about candy? Here you'll find the forgotten, the strange, the curious, the surprising. Our candy story, one post at a time.

(C) Samira Kawash

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