From geezer writer (and editor) to younger writer: whew. I ask the different question than "Did you marry her?" What happened to Helen...if you know. Random soft drink factoid: in 1972 I was researching my book "Soda Pop" and I spent a couple of weeks in an office in the Archives of The Coca-Cola Company in Atlanta. Every day at around 1…
From geezer writer (and editor) to younger writer: whew. I ask the different question than "Did you marry her?" What happened to Helen...if you know. Random soft drink factoid: in 1972 I was researching my book "Soda Pop" and I spent a couple of weeks in an office in the Archives of The Coca-Cola Company in Atlanta. Every day at around 10:30 a secretary would pop her head in and ask, in a magnolia-scented accent, "Would you like a co-cola, Mr. Dietz?" Sure. She would bring a six-and-a-half ounce bottle and a glass with ice. I had a pretty good sense of taste for soft drinks (all that research), and the Coke I was drinking was better than the Coke I drank in L.A. When I asked Wilbur Kurtz, Jr., the archivist, whether I was dreaming, he said, no, remember that the syrup is a living organism, and it diminishes with age. These bottles we get are made with syrup that is probably a day old, if that. Fresher even than the Cokes you drank in Virginia.
I drank some while researching my book on soft drink advertising and marketing. It's...interesting -- and a real Southern institution. On a TV talk show (c. 1973), Maury Povitch challenged me: had I tried Dr. Pepper and moon pie? Well, no. I still can't quite imagine the two together. Talk about a sugar rush!
I grew up drinking Pepsi Cola. Coca Cola, in my family, was for upset stomachs once the bubbles were stirred out, or sometimes Ginger Ale.
In the early 1960s, I was in France for a Jr. Year Abroad, and ordered a Pepsi. What a shock. It tasted like a Coke (too sweet) plus I had difficulty convincing the waiter I wanted ice with it. I learned that a squeeze of lemon improved it somewhat but basically gave up on soft drinks until I returned to the U.S.
Ah, yes. In Jewish families back then where there was some Yiddish spoken, soft drinks (don't forget 7-Up) were often referred to as grepswasser, greps meaning belch. As for the the taste of Pepsi being like Coke in France when you were there, you weren't dreaming. I noticed the same thing when I went South in the late 60s. I got pretty close to Wilbur Kurtz, Jr., the archivist for The Coca-Cola Company, as I was researching Soda Pop, my book on soft drink merchandising and advertising, and during a (bourbon-fuelled) lunch in Atlanta (1972, I think) with Kurtz and a nice PR guy, I asked about the matter of Pepsi taste in the South. Both Coke guys confirmed that yeah, it was an open secret in the industry that the folks at Pepsi tinkered with the formula for Pepsi syrup used to make Pepsi in the South, to make Pepsi taste like Coke, where Coke was still the dominant pop, by far. It would make sense for Pepsi to do the same in France, where the dominant pop would have been Coca-Cola, which shipped Coke to U.S. troops during the war, and established bottling plants as soon as it could. As long as you've read this far, one other absolute truth: there was never, ever, cocaine in Coca-Cola. Prior to 1904, there was an infinitesimal amount of *untreated* coca leaf in the syrup. To say that constituted cocaine would be like saying a single grape is the same as wine, or a single potato is the same as a glass of Wyborowa (Polish) vodka. The myth of cocaine in Coke was started (time for ironic smile) by The Coca-Cola Company, way back then. It advertised Coca-Cola as "brain food," and made other subtle references in ads to like the drink to the effects of cocaine (then legal). At our drunken lunch in Atlanta, Kurtz, the PR man and I tried to figure out how much pre-1904 Coca-Cola someone would have had to drink at one sitting to feel the effects of the untreated coca leaf. We came up with 24 six-and-a-half ounce bottles -- by which time the person's brain and body would already be overwhelmed by the effects of sugar and caffeine. End of lecture. Do some (old) people in the South still refer to Coca-Cola as "dope?" Probably.
From geezer writer (and editor) to younger writer: whew. I ask the different question than "Did you marry her?" What happened to Helen...if you know. Random soft drink factoid: in 1972 I was researching my book "Soda Pop" and I spent a couple of weeks in an office in the Archives of The Coca-Cola Company in Atlanta. Every day at around 10:30 a secretary would pop her head in and ask, in a magnolia-scented accent, "Would you like a co-cola, Mr. Dietz?" Sure. She would bring a six-and-a-half ounce bottle and a glass with ice. I had a pretty good sense of taste for soft drinks (all that research), and the Coke I was drinking was better than the Coke I drank in L.A. When I asked Wilbur Kurtz, Jr., the archivist, whether I was dreaming, he said, no, remember that the syrup is a living organism, and it diminishes with age. These bottles we get are made with syrup that is probably a day old, if that. Fresher even than the Cokes you drank in Virginia.
Try Dr. Pepper.
I drank some while researching my book on soft drink advertising and marketing. It's...interesting -- and a real Southern institution. On a TV talk show (c. 1973), Maury Povitch challenged me: had I tried Dr. Pepper and moon pie? Well, no. I still can't quite imagine the two together. Talk about a sugar rush!
Ha! Diabetes, here we come.
7 years in N.C. and I never paired the two.
Never will I ever! LOL
I grew up drinking Pepsi Cola. Coca Cola, in my family, was for upset stomachs once the bubbles were stirred out, or sometimes Ginger Ale.
In the early 1960s, I was in France for a Jr. Year Abroad, and ordered a Pepsi. What a shock. It tasted like a Coke (too sweet) plus I had difficulty convincing the waiter I wanted ice with it. I learned that a squeeze of lemon improved it somewhat but basically gave up on soft drinks until I returned to the U.S.
Ah, yes. In Jewish families back then where there was some Yiddish spoken, soft drinks (don't forget 7-Up) were often referred to as grepswasser, greps meaning belch. As for the the taste of Pepsi being like Coke in France when you were there, you weren't dreaming. I noticed the same thing when I went South in the late 60s. I got pretty close to Wilbur Kurtz, Jr., the archivist for The Coca-Cola Company, as I was researching Soda Pop, my book on soft drink merchandising and advertising, and during a (bourbon-fuelled) lunch in Atlanta (1972, I think) with Kurtz and a nice PR guy, I asked about the matter of Pepsi taste in the South. Both Coke guys confirmed that yeah, it was an open secret in the industry that the folks at Pepsi tinkered with the formula for Pepsi syrup used to make Pepsi in the South, to make Pepsi taste like Coke, where Coke was still the dominant pop, by far. It would make sense for Pepsi to do the same in France, where the dominant pop would have been Coca-Cola, which shipped Coke to U.S. troops during the war, and established bottling plants as soon as it could. As long as you've read this far, one other absolute truth: there was never, ever, cocaine in Coca-Cola. Prior to 1904, there was an infinitesimal amount of *untreated* coca leaf in the syrup. To say that constituted cocaine would be like saying a single grape is the same as wine, or a single potato is the same as a glass of Wyborowa (Polish) vodka. The myth of cocaine in Coke was started (time for ironic smile) by The Coca-Cola Company, way back then. It advertised Coca-Cola as "brain food," and made other subtle references in ads to like the drink to the effects of cocaine (then legal). At our drunken lunch in Atlanta, Kurtz, the PR man and I tried to figure out how much pre-1904 Coca-Cola someone would have had to drink at one sitting to feel the effects of the untreated coca leaf. We came up with 24 six-and-a-half ounce bottles -- by which time the person's brain and body would already be overwhelmed by the effects of sugar and caffeine. End of lecture. Do some (old) people in the South still refer to Coca-Cola as "dope?" Probably.
In 1970, the store that sold burgers, soda, and fries plus clip-on ties, note books, etc. was called "The Dope Shop."
Certainly, my sister, who worked at a movie theater in Durham recounted this conversation to me. She was working to concession stand.
"I'll have a coke."
Sis: "What kind?"
"Orange."
For you Yankees, "Coke" was generic for "soda."