Chapter 4

Depression Years

PENNY CANDY

But the good times of the 1920s—when that old adage that “God helps those who help themselves” proved profitable for so many Americans—came to their crashing end in 1929, and no one was immune to its effects. Bank failures, unemployment, diminishing wages for those lucky enough to have jobs—all contributed to a national malaise. In Denver, the city found that its earlier boast of being a central transportation center came back to haunt it, since it now became an easy and attractive magnet for hobos and transients en route from no place to nowhere. One of the less glorious moments in Colorado history came with the accusations and blame being assigned to Mexican nationals for the economic crisis and the establishment of roadblocks to prevent them from moving freely. The newspapers dubbed that unfortunate policy the “bum blockade.” State government often found itself in opposition to edicts emanating from Washington, particularly in response to providing the matching funds mandated by the National Recovery Administration. Unfortunately, one of the ways of raising those monies, since Governor Edwin C. Johnson strongly fought against an income tax, was a sales tax that was levied on a variety of goods that included groceries. This only exacerbated the problems everyone faced in putting food on the table. The governor was so opposed to the New Deal and its Federal Emergency Relief Administration regulation that states had to raise one dollar for every three they received that he influenced the legislature to refuse to act on raising funds. At one point, the federal aid was actually cut off. Of course, it wasn’t the power brokers who were hurt but the householders who had elected them.⁴⁰

Cutting candy cane lengths before adding the crook. Photo by the author.

Carl faced the dilemmas of the Depression with his usual fortitude and ingenuity, putting his focus on the “penny” candy products. Family lore includes stories of the number of small candy canes he would get out of a single batch. (Today, Hammond’s canes are available in much larger sizes, and the variety of flavors has expanded considerably from the original, but the familiar red-and-white peppermint is still the most popular; the canes still rank as the number-one hard candy seller.) Carl recognized that candy could be a solace to people enduring hard times and that if he made it sufficiently inexpensive, they could and would buy it. If people couldn’t splurge on buying dinner out, they might treat their family to a small bag of Hammond’s sweets. Carl continued to make it all, but he considered hard candies to be his signature product, and he profited from that preference when he needed to market at a low price.

Adding crooks to candy canes. Photo by the author.

But selling candy in those quantities didn’t buy his family’s meat and potatoes, so as one answer, Carl hired Bill Hiney, a colleague he knew from Brecht, to make the candy. While Carl then worked for Harry, although construction must have been slow, Laura ran the store and Bill produced the candy. Ginny Gleason, who later ran a candy store in Denver and now greets visitors to Hammond’s tours, enjoys her childhood memory of the shop in the 1930s. She remembers Laura looking pretty in her organdy apron, while a helper in a pink dress reached past the curtain at the back of the glass showcase to select her choice. It was usually a difficult decision, choosing either a cream or a caramel.

Emery Dorsey, who later became Tom Hammond’s son-in-law and whose family also ran a small business, describes stories of the period:

Those were difficult times—folks were without jobs, and there was virtually a confectionery on every street corner, yet most found ways to sustain themselves. Family became critical to survival, and sons and daughters took their places alongside their parents in the back and front of these small establishments. Walking into a local shop meant being greeted by name, followed by lighthearted inquiries about family and children. Quality and service were the most important considerations of the time. Of the many tales of challenges and hardships, the common thread that tied individuals together was the support of community and the significance of family. Intentions were not set on extravagant amounts of money or even success; it was the conscious efforts to help and to sustain each other that mattered.

In 1931, the Nevin and Brecht candy companies—the former had been founded forty-seven years earlier, and the latter had been a relative newcomer to Denver when Carl and Bill worked for it—announced their amalgamation as one operating organization. The press reported that each would continue to function as a separate entity “with its own staff of executives and with virtually no reductions in working forces.” “Greater economy of operation” was the key reason given for the consolidation, so it might be assumed that Bill’s job was one of those cut and that he was then available when Carl needed a candy maker for his little factory.⁴¹

In fact, it must have been galling to have been a struggling entrepreneur like Carl in 1934 when the Denver Post headlined in one of its articles that “Rocky Mountain Business Holding Above Last Year,” adding in the body of the story that general business conditions were staying above the previous year, despite the slowness with which some goods were moving at retail.⁴² Similar optimistic comments were reported at the celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of the Chamber of Commerce,⁴³ but that could be construed as either blowing in the wind or as an honest effort to convince the public that, despite their personal difficulties, times were improving. Another more tangible effort to bolster the average Denverite’s optimism on the state of the city’s affairs was the assertion that it was the second capital of the United States. This was based on the number of federal agencies that had major offices or were based in the municipality. The list included the chief reclamation office, the U.S. Bureau of Roads, the Home Owners Loan Association, a new bureau and an internal revenue office that gave employment to more than one hundred individuals.⁴⁴ Strangely, the United States Mint—which dated to 1858, shortly after the discovery of gold in Colorado—wasn’t even mentioned as an important factor in boosting Denver’s status as one of the country’s most important urban regions. It is also paradoxical that the city aimed to be like the nation’s capital while the state was busy affirming its state’s rights.

#1 MITCHELL SWEET

The assets that probably helped Carl the most in surviving the Great Depression were his integrity and his very strong sense of self. He knew that he wanted to provide a good product that people would want to buy and appreciate, and if, at the end of the day he could say he had done that, then he was satisfied. One day, a friend approached him with a delicious confection that he had invented and that he thought Carl should taste. Carl bit into it, a soft, bite-sized marshmallow surrounded by succulent caramel; he loved the product and purchased the recipe to produce in his factory, naming it the “Mitchell Sweet” after his friend. The Mitchell Sweet became a signature candy in the Hammond’s line, and today it has been in continual production at Hammond’s for almost ninety years. It still ranks number one among the soft candies sold. This was just another example of Carl’s ability to recognize a great possibility, capitalize on it and watch it grow. Few bestsellers have such an incredible survival rate.

In stature, Carl was about five feet, ten inches, with a strong, wiry build; light hair blond to brown in color; and blue eyes. His grandson Carl III remembers him as a man who smiled a lot and had a sunny disposition and a generous spirit, not surprising in one who lived life on simple terms. He strongly believed that one never gets enough of something he doesn’t need, and although in later years he could have afforded a higher-priced model, he said all he needed was a Chevrolet.

Carl also had an inquiring mind, and he liked to explore his own possibilities, deciding one day that he would like to play the violin. Difficult as it must have been, he taught himself how to play, and he became sufficiently proficient that he became an active member of a chamber group. And, of course, there was the piano, because in the words of one family member, “Everyone had a piano.” Making music may have resembled making candy, since getting the timing right meant harmony in both. Carl’s mother must have realized early in his life that his lack of a formal education would only act as a spur to fulfilling many ambitions.

FAMILY MAN

Although Carl wasn’t particularly religious as a Christian Scientist, he was active as a Mason, which had a strong presence in North Denver. When he died, his obituary reported that he had been a member of Highland Masonic Lodge No. 86, Royal Arch Masons Rocky Mountain Consistory No. 2, El Jebel Shrine, Order of Eastern Star Temple Chapter No. 96 and the Knights Templar, and his family suggested contributions to the Shrine Crippled Children fund.⁴⁵ These associations meant that Carl and his family were always very connected with what went on in North Denver.

Carl was a family man in the best sense of the term, and he raised his children, as he had been raised, to understand the responsibilities one inherited as a son or daughter. Just as he had been allowed to make his own decision to abandon high school and strike out on his own, he allowed his son, Tom, the same latitude. Although he wasn’t a hard taskmaster, he did believe that first came one’s responsibilities.

Working at the store wasn’t a choice for Tom or his sister, Marjorie, nor was it only an expectation on Carl Sr.’s part—it was a given. The factory was an integral part of the family’s life and livelihood, and everyone was expected to contribute. When Carl and Laura were first married, home and workplace formed a unit, with the store in front, the candy kitchen to the rear and the living quarters upstairs, a common arrangement for family-owned and run businesses. Once they bought their first home, however, Laura had to bring Tom and Marjorie with her while she sold the candy. From an early age, when the children had grown past the toddler years, they were expected to pitch in and perform any small tasks that fit their chubby hands and legs. In the beginning, that might mean fetching the bags for a customer’s purchases or, as each child became taller and stronger, sweeping the floors, wiping the counters or any other chore that made life easier for their parents. In the words of Carl’s grandchildren, “It was simply what one did.”

For young Tom, in about fifth or sixth grade that meant a walk to the rail yard, where he would sell candy bars to anyone willing to buy, whether it was laborers on their lunch break or transients who were just hanging around, hoping for a handout or lucky enough to have a spare five cents to hand over for a chocolate treat. At times it must have been a frightening experience, because men who are cold, hungry and homeless can be mean or dangerous. But many of the hobos, as they were called, were just sad people, “down and out” due to unfortunate circumstances brought about by bad economic times; the stories they told Tom must have taught him life lessons he would never otherwise have learned. They would certainly have given him an added appreciation of his own home life. By then, there were always candy bars available for him to sell, since the company had started to make them for the wholesale market.

One of Tom’s favorite stories about his early sales experience occurred when he was dating a girl in high school and eventually met her parents. The girl’s father kept eyeing Tom suspiciously and finally said, “You know, you remind me a lot of a little rugrat selling candy bars that used to run out of my warehouse.” Tom simply smiled and said, “Gee, I don’t remember anything like that,” and quickly changed the subject to football at North High School. It didn’t turn into a long-term relationship—surprise, surprise.

But just selling to the men who were coupling or uncoupling the rail cars or unloading freight would have given Tom a new perspective on different ways men earned their livelihoods. There is also a good chance he added to his vocabulary, but not words he could have brought home to his mother. Most important to Carl Sr., however, would have been the opportunity he was giving his son to strike out on his own, as he and his father, Peach, had done before him.