Chapter 1

School’s Out

GRANDPA PEACH

Denver mornings start with a dry, cool and invigorating temperature, which makes it easy to look forward to the day, but Carl Hammond didn’t have great expectations when he awoke at the crack of dawn on that late summer Monday. Today would be his first day of high school, and he wasn’t one bit excited. In fact, he had very mixed feelings at the thought because he had already decided that what he had learned in elementary school was all the education he needed for the time being. He knew his older brother Harry didn’t agree with him, but despite the encouraging words of his brother, Carl felt four more years at school would be useless. He realized it was important for him to earn some money if he wanted to enjoy more than the room and board and bare essentials that his father would provide.

Harry, two years older and already aware of the courses he would need if he went into the construction business, felt no such qualms. But he understood that the prospect of sitting in a classroom at North High School bored Carl, who was anxious to find his way in the workaday world. Like an elder brother, however, he urged Carl to drag himself out of bed, get dressed and set out for school. The iconic North High School had not yet been built on Speer Boulevard, so Carl presented himself that day at Ashland School, which then housed both elementary grades and high school. Ironically, about thirty-five years later, he would build a factory for his Hammond Candy Company directly across the street. But Carl’s early opinions turned out to be well founded, so when he got home that afternoon, he announced that he didn’t need any more education. “Fine,” his mother replied, “but you’re not going to lie around the house. Go get a job.”

Portrait of Carl Hammond Sr. as a young man. Carl T. Hammond III Family Collection.

And that’s just what Carl Hammond did—he got a job as an apprentice for the Cosner Candy Company on Welton Street.¹

Independence was a trait he had inherited from both his parents and his grandmother as well. She had become a widow at a young age, but that situation wasn’t unusual on the plains, where accidents claimed many lives and some men were felled just by the exhaustion of tilling the soil. It was hard, hard work running a wheat farm successfully enough to provide for a family of five sons and, hopefully, put something aside to provide for old age. It was harder still for a young woman who now had all the household chores and the vegetable garden to manage, but it was possible for someone like her who took pride in her resilience. She was undoubtedly aware that with her brood she wouldn’t seem very attractive to the bachelor farmers in the area, and she might easily not have found the thought of another marriage very appealing. Instead, she hitched up her buckboard and drove into town to the feed store, where she had enough credit to purchase sufficient seed for the next year’s crop. At a time when a weaker woman might have been tempted to pull up her roots and return to her family, or move to another place for easier opportunities, or just give up entirely, Carl’s grandmother persevered, raising her sons until they were grown. When Carl’s father, Thomas Hammond, known as Peach, felt the pull of independence and announced his intention of looking for greater opportunities in California, she let him go. If the prospects of the uninhabited land offered by the Homestead Act of 1862 had lured the family to Lawrence, Kansas—where Peach was born on August 9, 1867—perhaps the growth of the state’s population prompted Peach to think of trying his chances elsewhere. There had only been 107,206 people living in Kansas in 1860, and by 1880 that number had exploded to 996,096.² It was a Hammond characteristic to seek personal, if not necessarily physical, space for growth, and with four other brothers living on the farm, perhaps Peach felt that was getting a bit crowded, too.

At any rate, Peach’s mother gave him, as she did all her sons, the very generous sum of $2,000. With the same dogged determination that had enabled her to conquer the vicissitudes of weather on the prairie, she had overcome the trials of single parenthood and, over the years, had frugally squirreled away about $10,000 from the sale of the wheat. Today, her gift would equal a little less than $50,000, a healthy start in life for any young man.³ When for family reasons Peach decided that California was too far from Kansas, he stopped in Denver and made it his home. Peach, too, handed down to Carl the kind of flexibility and hardiness that had been his mother’s legacy to him.

Peach and his wife, Mary, whose family hailed from Pennsylvania, separated after they moved to Colorado, although they never divorced. Peach then left Denver and homesteaded in Oak Creek, Colorado, where he lived off the land, raising cattle and occupying a two-room shack of about three hundred square feet. Many years later, Peach’s grandson Tom’s wife, June, nicknamed the cabin the “most painted shack in Colorado.” It seemed that whenever her friends from her Masonic group, the Daughters-of-the-Nile, needed to get away for just a little peace and quiet, they would visit the shack and paint it. The activity was probably a good justification for leaving everything behind for a day or two.

The town of Oak Creek is situated in the rich and fertile Yampa Valley in Routt County, just south of Steamboat Springs. Periodically, Peach would slaughter a steer, load the carcass onto a buckboard and then drive it over 150 miles to Denver, where he would sell the meat from his wagon at the side of the road. In the warmer months, the trip was arduous, traveling over the Gore Pass, which, at an elevation of 9,524 feet, was approximately 2,000 feet higher than Oak Creek. In winter, the journey was brutal, if not downright forbidding, but that didn’t deter Peach’s resolve to navigate the rough trails. He would take the wheels off his conveyance and add runners to handle the snow, which in some places could exceed several feet. The drifts, caused by the howling wind, increased the hazards for both Peach and his horse, which had to be fed and sheltered from the elements before Peach could get any rest. What today is about a three-hour drive in good weather, and frequently considered to be hazardous in snowy conditions, would have taken four days and nights for Peach. When it came time to sleep, he wrapped himself in blankets and hunkered down under the buckboard.

As he got older—he lived to be ninety and died on October 29, 1957—and was no longer able to continue these exploits, he spent time at Carl’s candy factory, sweeping the floor or helping with odd chores, because he was the kind of man who had to have something to do. That Peach truly characterized the hardy pioneer spirit is reflected in a story recounted by one of his great-grandsons. By that time, Peach was living in a nursing facility, where his son Carl would visit on Sundays. When asked on one occasion what he had done to his hand, Peach’s reply was that nothing had happened, totally ignoring the fact that his hand was wrapped in a much bloodied handkerchief. Upon further investigation, Carl discovered that Peach had closed a window on his finger, cutting it off up to the first knuckle. That was just another example of the hardy independence that typified Carl Hammond’s heritage.

SWEET PROSPECTS

Carl was born to Peach and Mary on November 21, 1895, in North Denver, a part of the city that until shortly after the depression of 1893 had been the independent town of Highlands. “True to her name and nature,” the town’s report for 1891 reads, “she stands high and sightly, where the pure air from the mountains—that God-given slayer of disease—is first-hand by her people and sells their lungs with strength and healthfulness. [There are] no smelters, factories or emitters of smoke within her borders.”⁴ In addition to his older brother Harry, he had two younger sisters: Doris, born two years after him, and Mabel, three years later.

Carl must have gained a variety of experiences as well as a love of the candy business during those initial years of employment, since in 1911 he listed his occupation as driver and, later in 1912 and 1913, as teamster in the Denver City Directory. However, Cosner’s would prove to be a good choice, for the confectionary business was booming and was considered to be an industry with great growth potential. As early as 1882, Milton Hershey’s father, who had come to Colorado from the East with an early tubercular condition, had encouraged his son to move to Denver, a city he considered to be fertile ground for entrepreneurs. Following his advice, Milton moved west and found work with a local candy maker. While employed by this confectioner, whose name has been lost, Hershey learned an important process for making candy that held the key to his future success. The Denver confectioner taught Hershey how to make caramels with fresh milk, which not only enhanced its flavor but also gave it an important chewing quality that eastern candy makers were then achieving with the use of paraffin. Armed with this new formula, he soon left Denver to seek out opportunities in Chicago and New Orleans and ultimately returned to his native Pennsylvania, where he proceeded to make his name known.⁵

Although little is known about those first few years that Carl spent in the candy industry, he had been fortunate in finding employment with one of the top confectioners in his field. E.M. Cosner was a respected businessman who recognized the advantages the Colorado climate offered. He noted in an article he later wrote for a local business journal that marshmallows made in the East will dry and crack if shipped to high altitude and, if dipped in chocolate there, will splinter when shipped to this climate.⁶ An early twentieth-century issue of the trade magazine Candy and Ice Cream carried an article that proved Mr. Cosner’s point about marshmallows. Its headline read: “4 Tons Candy Seized and Owners Fined in Court. Marshmallows That You Can Hammer Are Shown to Judge. Denver, Co.” It seemed that a Mr. A. Lang, a wholesale jobber at 1221 Nineteenth Street, declared that he was willing to eat a pound of candy every day for a year from a batch of four tons that he had bought recently in Salina, Kansas. The shipment had been condemned by the city and federal health officials as units for sale. Lang made his extraordinary offer in municipal court before Magistrate Stapleton, but his offer was turned down, and he was fined $100 and costs after the health officials had pounded marshmallows and chocolate fudge with hammers to demonstrate to the court that it would make better building material than confection.⁷

Carl Hammond Sr. with his three siblings: Doris (top), Harry (far right) and Mabel. Carl T. Hammond III Family Collection.

Mr. Cosner also stated that chocolate cream centers will not hold up in Colorado’s climate if made in a low altitude, and since he believed that disease germs do not exist in a high, dry area, he added that candy manufactured in Denver’s air, which is light, dry and pure, was healthier than that made at lower altitudes.⁸ Whether this claim was true at the time, his assertion helped to ensure the success of his enterprise.

W.C. Nevin, whose company bore his name, also shared Cosner’s belief in the importance of Colorado’s high altitude, writing in the same article that because of the humidity in the East, pillows and glossy cuts (very popular hard candies to this day) must be enclosed in glass or hermetically sealed. He added that chocolate had to be artificially refrigerated, thereby excluding fresh air from the product.⁹ Clearly, it was a popular conviction that the industry Carl Hammond was joining not only gave pleasure to people but also added to their general well-being.

OFF TO WAR

Unfortunately, like so many young men of his generation, Carl had to interrupt his early career in 1917 when he was drafted into the army when the United States entered World War I. He served in France with the Rainbow Division in the field of communications. Responsible for carrying telephone wires on his back through the lines—often a hazardous duty in the event of enemy fire—he was decorated for his service before his discharge.

Similar to most of his compatriots in this and later wars, he spoke little of his front-line experiences, but akin to many of his noncommissioned peers, he did enjoy telling a few stories at the expense of his commissioned superiors. A favorite, according to a family member, recounted a march through exceedingly muddy fields, a trek that the troops thought the officer ordered for the sake of showing his power. Unfortunately, the new captain neglected to call the order to halt in a timely fashion, and the first two ranks fell into a very wet trench.

Carl only once spoke very briefly of a horrific incident in the trenches when a shell exploded, killing two soldiers, one on each side of him, and leaving him completely untouched. In relating this story to his grandson, Carl III, he simply remarked, “How does that happen?” He made much the same comment regarding an almost mysterious incident that also occurred while he was in France. The troops were frequently poorly supplied with even the most basic necessities, and for men who were constantly on the move, the lack of adequate boots was a critical condition. When the soles wore out, which was often, their only solution was to use whatever material was available as a substitute. Since this was usually cardboard, the solution was short-lived. (This shortage was also the common cause of a disease aptly called “trench foot,” which, if left untreated, can, in the worst cases, lead to gangrene and ultimate amputation.) One night, while Carl and some comrades were grousing with soldiers from another company in a local café about their cold, miserable feet, a stranger who overheard them intervened with welcome news. “Oh, I can get you some boots,” he said. “What size do you want?”

“Eleven C,” Carl responded and handed over the money the other man requested. Later that afternoon, he walked to the appointed street address to get his new boots, only to find out there was no such address, just an empty open field. He felt foolish and ashamed to have trusted a total stranger. He waited in vain for the stranger to appear. Discouraged, he set off across the open field to return to his quarters, and as he waded through the muck and debris, he stumbled over something blocking his path. Looking down, he discovered a pair of boots, miraculously size 11C. “How does that happen?” he again asked. Carl, who had a laconic nature, didn’t really expect a reply to these queries.

He grimaced a bit, but with a twinkle in his eye, at the memory of the unsavory conditions on the crowded troop ship crossing the Atlantic. Sleeping on the stacked bunks sometimes presented difficulties, but it was the sanitary facilities that made even the more hardened men balk. The majority of the soldiers on board, especially those from cities and the more urban areas of the country, enjoyed indoor plumbing at home. Even those used to outdoor latrines were startled to find that they had to use open troughs, filled with running water pumped in from the ocean, that spanned the width of the vessel. When the ship encountered the heavy seas characteristic of the Atlantic, it helped to have nimble feet to escape the inevitable sloshing.

BRECHT’S MAKES LIFE SWEETER

At the end of what for a time came to be called the Great War, Carl returned home, anxious to resume his career, and soon apprenticed at the Brecht Candy Company. G.A. Von Brecht, who was described in the Rocky Mountain News as a capitalist from St. Louis, had established his company in 1915, after his purchase of the defunct Austin Candy Company. Von Brecht proposed to invest the lordly sum of $100,000 to modernize the Austin facility at Fourteenth Street and Wazee to make, in his words, the “new factory one of the largest and best in the country and certainly the biggest west of the Mississippi river [sic].”¹⁰ The building still stands at that location, but while the sign “Home of Brecht’s Chocolate and Candies” has long been replaced to advertise its latest tenant, the slogan painted on the Speer Boulevard side of the building remains: “Brecht’s Candies—Makes Life Sweeter.”

Von Brecht had rushed his plan to install the latest and best machinery for the manufacture of candy, and although he had announced his proposal in the middle of October, he had his factory up and running by November 15, just in time to supply the Christmas trade. His company was a boon to the North Denver economy since it employed approximately two hundred people, eighty more than the Austin Company had hired.¹¹ At that time, Mr. Brecht had no reason to know that he would probably lose most of those men to the war that the United States would enter two years later.

It is probable, therefore, that Carl Hammond was one of the many whom Brecht needed to hire when the war ended and a workforce was once more available. Carl had good company and good opportunities while at Brecht. He recounted that on lunch break, he and his buddies used to go up to the roof to smoke. While there, they would watch the horse-drawn wagons straining to scale the viaduct with their loads and try to guess which horses could reach the top, still moving upright, rather than staggering under the weight they were carrying. Like the teams he was watching, Carl worked diligently, rapidly learning the intricacies of making the hard candy that was Brecht’s specialty and honing an innate business sense. His bosses were attuned to the skills he displayed, promoting him to production manager in the short time he worked at Brecht.

Although there is no record of Carl’s salary while at Brecht, the average annual wage in the 1910s was approximately $750 (which translates to a mere $11,800 in 2014), and in the 1920s, this had only increased to $1,236 (or $14,650). It is no surprise, therefore, that with Carl Hammond’s entrepreneurial spirit and the skills he learned while at Brecht, he soon decided to strike out more or less on his own.¹²

Unfortunately, there is very little history about Carl’s earliest endeavors in the Hammond family annals. What is known is that in about 1922, Carl began working for his brother Harry Hammond, who, true to his ambitions, had gone into construction as he had planned when he decided on the necessity of a high school diploma. In the 1923 Corbett and Ballinger’s directory, in which Harry’s address is given as 2339 15^th Street, he is listed as a carpenter. He owned his own business, building single detached homes (one at a time), industrial buildings and renovations. Carl worked for Harry during the day and made candy at night behind a small storefront located at 1411 Platte Street. Eventually, Carl spent more time making candy than working construction. By the time the city directory of 1920 was published, he was listing his occupation as candy maker.

Four generations of the Hammond family: Peach, Carl Sr., Carl Jr. (Tom) and Carl III. Carl T. Hammond III Family Collection.

This, then, is the story of how Carl Hammond created a small family-run business that sustained itself through a depression, the Second World War and the onslaught of crushing competition from domineering global conglomerates and, with the founder’s passing, continued on to the next generation. It is the unique history of a company that has emerged with the same handmade products that are faithfully produced, often using the same machinery, as they were one hundred years earlier.