It is the most controversial issue dividing Americans today. Friendly football games, church services, and even family get-togethers suddenly turn furious the instant it arises. And what is this radioactive topic, this most divisive question of our times, you ask? Is it Biden vs. Trump? Violence in the Mideast? Which religion is one, true faith?
Hardly. They’re all child’s play compared to the burning question that is vexing America at this very moment: “Candy corn, yes or no?”
To say that people love or hate the fall treat is a gross understatement. There is no middle ground. Those who like it do so with a fervor bordering on being an obsession. Those who don’t despise it with a level of loathing usually reserved for people who abuse small animals. And each camp is passionately intolerant of the other.
Consider this observation from comedian Lewis Black (a hater): “Candy corn is the only candy in the history of America that’s never been advertised. And there’s a reason. All of the candy corn that was ever made was made in 1911. And so, since nobody eats that stuff, every year, there’s a ton of it left over. And the candy corn company sends the guys to the villages, and they collect out of the dumpsters all the candy corn we’ve thrown away.”
Funny, but far from accurate. So, just who created the confection concoction that has divided Americans so bitterly?
There is a widely circulated claim that the honor (or dishonor, depending on one’s point of view) belongs to a man named George Renninger. He came up with it sometime in the 1880s. At least, that’s what family lore says. There’s not a lot of documentation to back up the claim. His 1944 Philadelphia newspaper obituary, for instance, only said he was “associated with the Philip Wunderle Candy Company for 68 years.” But then again, nobody else ever claimed to have invented it. The National Confectioners Association gives Renninger the title.
We do know for sure that the aforementioned Wunderle Candy Company first began selling it in 1888. But it really took off a decade later when the Goelitz Candy Company began producing the stuff. Lovers and haters alike will be surprised to learn candy corn was originally marketed under the name “Chicken Feed.”
Strange as it sounds today, Americans were crazy about agriculture-themed candy in the late 19th century. Goelitz (which you will likely now recognize as Jelly Belly Candy Company) piggybacked on it. Chickens love eating corn, after all. And its distractive yellow, orange, and white colors appealed to many people.
For a while, Goelitz branded it “Butter Sweet Candy Corn” (though it still was promoted with a rooster in advertising posters). But conciseness and clarity eventually won out. Butter corn, poultry, and various other barnyard oddities were all dropped. The candy corn craze was officially underway.
Many kids enjoyed the stuff in its early years because it was incredibly cheap. It’s made with honey, sugar, butter, and vanilla, making it an affordable alternative to the more luxurious milk chocolate. Its waxy content meant it would last almost forever, though that texture is also one reason why so many people dislike it.
Goelitz lost its place at the top of the candy corn pack decades ago. That distinction today belongs to Brach’s, which accounts for 85 percent of all candy corn sales.
A generation or so back, candy corn was available at retail outlets year-round. Now, it’s pretty much limited to the Halloween season. But it’s still a biggie. In 2016 alone, 39 million pounds were made in just the U.S. That comes to almost 9 billion individual pieces, enough to circle the moon nearly 21 times if placed end-to-end. (Yes, someone with way too much free time on his hands actually made that calculation.)
So, with no end in sight, it looks like world peace will be obtained before the Great Candy Corn Love/Hate thing is ever resolved. But both sides can at least take cold comfort in this fact: Whatever else it is or isn’t, candy corn doesn’t appear to be bad for you. After all, its creator, George Renninger, lived to be 88—and that’s not chicken feed, by George!
