1309453052boss%20summer%202011

SPECIAL ISSUESPECIAL ISSUE

6 History

The world in 1916

22The Great Age of Ocean Liners

Crossing the sea in luxury

26 John D. RockefellerHow one man changed America

31 SportsA new home for the Cubs

6 History

The world in 1916

22The Great Age of Ocean Liners

Crossing the sea in luxury

26 John D. RockefellerHow one man changed America

31 SportsA new home for the Cubs

C O N N E C T I N G T O I N D U S T R YC O N N E C T I N G T O I N D U S T R Y

SUMMER 20 1 1asia/pacific – winter 2011

Di x on C e l e br a t e s 9 5 Ye a r s

Dixoncommemorates its

95THANNIVERSARYwith an intriguinglook back to the eraof its founding

Dixoncommemorates its

95THANNIVERSARYwith an intriguinglook back to the eraof its founding

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With this special issue of BOSS, we celebrate the

95th anniversary of Dixon Valve by offering you a

window into the era in which it was founded—1916.

As I look back at the American economy during

that time, I can see that conditions were favorable

for my grandfather, Howard W. Goodall, to establish

a new company to design and manufacture the

valves and couplings so necessary for the country’s growing industries.

John D. Rockefeller, thanks to his savvy with Standard Oil, had just become the

world’s first billionaire. William E. Boeing, recognizing the potential of air travel, was

laying the groundwork for what would become the largest aerospace company in the

world. Automobile maker Henry Ford watched as middle-class Americans bought up

his popular Model T’s.

And while much of Europe was engaged in the bloodshed of World War I,

Americans lived in peace during the spring of 1916, when Dixon Valve first opened

its doors. They were flocking to movie theaters to watch Mary Pickford and Charlie

Chaplin on the big screen and calling one another on the newfangled telephone.

While the affluent enjoyed luxury voyages on the great ocean liners of the day, the

poor made their journey in steerage, on a one-way ticket from their home countries

to the Land of Opportunity.

Howard Goodall saw his opportunity, and he took it. The company that he started

in 1916, and the one that has remained in our family now for nearly a century, was

built solidly on the timeless values of honesty and integrity. Today those values con-

tinue to infuse everything we do. Though Dixon has grown from a single warehouse

in downtown Philadelphia to a thriving business with distribution centers spread

across four continents, we remain committed to treating all of our customers and

employees with respect and fairness.

Thanks for reading,

WELCOME TO OUR SPECIAL ISSUESUMMER 2011

ASIA/PACIFIC – WINTER 2011

PublisherDixon Valve & Coupling Company

EditorSue De Pasquale

Editorial BoardRichard L. Goodall, CEOLouis F. Farina, Senior Vice President,DVCCDouglas K. Goodall, President, DVCCBob Grace, President, DixonTaylor Goodall, Vice President,Distribution, DixonScott Jones, Vice President, Sales &Marketing, DixonHazen Arnold, Vice President, DixonMark Vansant, Vice President, DixonJoseph Dawson, Vice President, DixonSpecialty HoseKaren R. Hurless, Advertising &Communications Manager

Editorial & DesignAlter Custom Mediawww.altercustommedia.com

Art DirectorKim Van Dyke

Copy EditorChris Zang

Please submit address changes to:Alter Custom MediaAttn: Adrienne Gieszl1040 Park Ave., Suite 200Baltimore, MD 21201443-451-0723Fax: 443-451-6025

BOSS is produced three times a year by Dixon Valve &

Coupling Company and Alter Custom Media. The acceptance

of advertising does not constitute endorsement of the

products or services by Dixon Valve & Coupling Company.

The publisher reserves the right to reject any advertisement

that is not in keeping with the standing or policies of

Dixon Valve & Coupling Company. Copyright 2011, all rights

reserved. Reproduction of any part of BOSS without written

permission is prohibited.

Dixon Valve & Coupling Company800 High St.Chestertown, MD 21620877-963-4966Fax: 800-283-4966www.dixonvalve.com

E-mail questions or comments about BOSSto: [email protected]


FEATURES

DIXON 1916-2011

12 22

26

12 CELEBRATING 95 YEARSNearly a century after its founding, Dixon continues to put a premium onhonesty, respect and strong character. Plus: A sampling of other Americanstart-ups of the period.

22 SERVICE, SPEED, STYLE … AND STEERAGEIt was transport, not cruising, that kept afloat the great ocean liners of abygone age.

26 PUTTIN’ ON THE RITZThe story of John D. Rockefeller’s getting and giving and how it changedAmerica.

On the cover A vintage photo of a Dixon employee at work on a spindle screw machine.

4 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1


6 MILESTONES IN HISTORY1916: While Americans lived in precarious peace, Europe consumed itselfin the carnage of war.

10 PROFILEWilliam E. Boeing set the course for innovation in air travel.

31 SPORTSThe humble beginnings of Wrigley Field: Plus: A primer on other notablebaseball parks of the day.

34 INVENTIONSWith the debut of Coca-Cola’s shapely bottle, the company’s fortuneswere set.

DEPARTMENTS

WWW. D I X O N V A LV E . C O M S U MM E R 20 1 1 � BOSS 5

6 31

34


Film star Mary Pickford charmed moviegoers in 1916 for the mere cost of a dime, while telephones and automobilesquickly grew in popularity.

DIXON 1916-2011DIXON 1916-2011


S U MM E R 20 1 1 � BOSS 7WWW. D I X O N V A LV E . C O M

IN 1916, the world’s pop-ulation was approximate-ly 1.75 billion people.The most common formof government wasmonarchy. There wereonly three republics inEurope, one in Africaand one in Asia. Most ofthe monarchs, however,were pampered figure-heads, subservient toeither a constitution or aparliament. The Germankaiser, the Turkish sultan

and the Japanese emperor were the pup-pets of the military. Russia’s czar stillwielded real power, only limited by hisconscience and incompetence.The population of the United States

had just reached 100 million, and asmany people lived in cities as in ruralareas. With recent advances in medi-cine—the cure of rabies and diphtheria,the improved treatment of tuberculosisand yellow fever—the average American’slife span had grown to 50 years.Communication was easier than ever.

Since 1915, it was possible for a person in

New York City to telephone someone inSan Francisco; yes, the cost was a prohibi-tive $20.70 for the first three minutes($424 today), but it was still a marvel justto consider a conversation over a 3,000-mile distance.The telephone was not really a novel-

ty—even if the long-distance call was.After all, there was one phone for every10 people in the country. However, theautomobile was a sensation. Until 1908the vehicle had been a rarity, an ostenta-tious and not quite reliable toy for therich. Henry Ford changed that, introduc-ing assembly-line techniques to mass pro-duce an affordable car. By 1916, it took90 minutes to fully assemble a Model T,which could be purchased for less than

MILESTONES IN HISTORY

BY EUGENE FINERMAN

T H E WOR LD I N

1916WHILE AMERICANS LIVED IN PRECARIOUS PEACE,

EUROPE CONSUMED ITSELF IN THE CARNAGE OF WAR


8 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

$500 ($10,200 in today’s dollars).That still was not a meager amount,not when the average yearly salarywas $708 ($14,500 in today’s dol-lars). But the middle class couldnow afford automobiles, and buythem they did. In 1914, there were 1million cars on the American road;by 1916, that number had doubled.While the automobile was

increasingly conspicuous, it was notyet the primary form of transporta-tion. America had 21 million hors-es. It was literal horse power thatplowed the farmland and broughtthe produce to market. Even inmajor cities, horses were still com-mon in carrying and deliveringfreight. The typical Americankitchen had an icebox, where a

large block of ice would keep foodfrom spoiling. Each week the ice-man, in his horse-drawn wagon,would deliver a fresh block.In the cities, streetlights were

electric and nearly 20 percent ofAmerican homes had electricity;but most homes were still illuminat-ed by gaslight. Electricity was nowproviding the public with a new andpopular diversion: the movie. Forthe price of a dime ($2.05 today),moviegoers could watch the riotousantics of Charlie Chaplin or seeMary Pickford charm her way outof mishap and adversity.Of course, some people resented

paying that dime. Only a year earli-er, a ticket cost a nickel. D.W.

Griffith had raised both the qualityof the American film and the pricefor it. His epic The Birth of a Nationwas a cinematic masterpiece. The1915 film, a depiction of the CivilWar and Reconstruction from avery Southern perspective, was asweeping spectacle with brilliantcinematography. It had to be seen,the public was eager, and the the-ater owners knew they could dou-ble the ticket prices.This was America in 1916, a

prospering, comfortable countryand all too conscious of its precari-ous place in the world. America wasat peace, while Europe consumeditself in the carnage of the GreatWar [see “Europe’s War,” page 9].Indeed, the war would be the

chief issue of the presidential cam-paign of 1916. WoodrowWilsoncampaigned for re-election on theslogan “He Kept Us Out of War.” HisRepublican opponent, Charles EvansHughes, could hardly dispute that.Neutrality was a winning issue.There was no sentiment to be onGermany’s side. With its history ofinvading Belgium, its U-boat attacks

on passenger ships and pioneeringuse of poison gas, Imperial Germanywas easy to loath. However, therewas also reluctance to join the Allies.Irish-Americans did not want tohelp Britain, the old enemy that wasstill occupying their ancestral home.Nor was the Russian czar popularamong Americans of East Europeanextraction; oppression and persecu-tion were not fondly remembered.America was content to stay out of“Europe’s War.”Hughes, a former governor of

New York and a Supreme Courtjustice, found himself limited toattacking the “anti-business” idea ofan eight-hour workday—advocatedby some Democratic politicians andlabor leaders, who believed the cur-rent 10-hour day was too long. InNovember, Wilson won the elec-tion, carrying 30 states and leadingHughes by 500,000 popular votes.And so 1916 ended, with a

world bent on self-destruction andAmerica savoring what wouldprove to be the last months of aprecarious peace.

ELECTRICITY WAS NOW PROVIDINGTHE PUBLIC WITH A NEW AND POPULARDIVERSION: THE MOVIE.

D.W. Griffith’s The Birth of a Nationwas a huge hit, as was silent filmlegend Charlie Chaplin; horsesremained the primary form oftransportation.



WHILE AMERICANS held out forpeace in 1916, much of Europe wasalready mired in a war that hadbegun two years earlier—the culmi-nation of decades of grudges, ambi-tions and fears that set Europe intotwo rival, glowering blocs. Germany,Austria-Hungary and Turkeyformed one alliance; France, Russiaand Britain opposed them.The Great War began in August

1914, after the assassination ofAustrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand,and everyone predicted that itwould be over before Christmas.Germany calculated a six-weektimetable. Such blithe confidencedied in the trenches of France, asdid millions of men. The headlinesof 1916 would have recounted onedesperate campaign after another.

VERDUN: Having a larger popula-tion than France, the German strat-egy was a war of attrition. It wouldforce France into a battle that wouldbe—as the Germans termed it—ameat grinder. The Germans deter-mined that the French would fightto the last man to hold a series offortifications at Verdun, in north-eastern France. And so in Februarythe battle began. It lasted untilDecember. The French held on toVerdun, losing 160,000 men but nottheir will to fight. Having lost140,000 men themselves, theGermans abandoned the campaign.

JUTLAND: The greatest naval battleof World War I was just the fulfill-ment of a boy’s longstanding fanta-sy. Unfortunately, the boy becameKaiser Wilhelm II—and he nevergrew up. He wanted a navy thatcould challenge Britannia’s rule ofthe sea. There was no practicalpurpose for a large German fleet,not with Germany’s limited coast-

line. And for the first two years ofthe war, the German navy stayed inport, while the British navy was inthe North Sea. On May 31, 1916,the German fleet finally tried tojustify its existence.Off the Danish peninsula of

Jutland, the two fleets maneuveredand shot at each other. At the end ofthe day, an accountant tallying thecorpses and wrecks would have saidthat Germany won. With a smallerfleet, it inflicted far more damage,casualties and ship losses on theBritish. The British lost 14 ships and6,000 men; the Germans lost 11ships and 2,500 men. Yet theGerman fleet then retreated to itshome ports, never to sail again. Thisleft the British navy in uncontestedcontrol of the seas.

THE SOMME: To relieve the Frenchat Verdun, the British launched anoffensive in the Somme Valley, innorthern France. A week’s bombard-ment was supposed to obliterate theGerman defenses, and the Britishtroops would simply occupy the val-ley, while three divisions of cavalry

would outflank and rout the Germanlines. However, the British overesti-mated the accuracy and effect oftheir barrage. A week’s bombard-ment only eliminated the element ofsurprise. The Germans were ready.

On July 1, 1916, the Britishexpected 150,000 men—in threewaves—to overrun two lines ofGerman fortifications. But only100,000 soldiers were able to attack.In some sectors, the second and thirdwaves could not move past the deadand the wounded of the first wave. Ittook three days before the Britishcould get an accurate count of theirlosses. Of the 100,000 men whomade the attack, 20,000 were deadand 40,000 wounded. This was andremains the worst day in the historyof the British army. And yet the cam-paign continued, lasting untilNovember. The Allies gained fivemiles, at the cost of 146,000 dead.The Germans suffered 164,000 dead.And there were just as ghastly

campaigns on the Eastern Front,where the Russian and Austriandeaths numbered in the hundredsof thousands.

‘Europe’s War’

Battle of Somme


William E. Boeing’s first flight wasneither smooth nor luxurious, but itwas a trip he would never forget.On July 4, 1914, Boeing and a

friend, U.S. Navy Lt. G. ConradWestervelt, climbed aboard a ricketyhydroplane in Seattle manned by TerahMaroney. The plane was only bigenough for two, because it had no seats.Boeing and Westervelt took turns sit-ting beside the pilot on the front edgeof the muslin-covered wing. Boeing wascaptivated by the sight of the landscapetilting up beside him at takeoff and thetwo men spent the afternoon takingturns soaring through the sky aboveLake Washington.By day’s end, they knew this was no

flight of fancy. Aviation was the futureof transportation. “I think we can builda better plane,” Boeing reportedly saidthat afternoon. Within a year their newplane was a reality. Called the Bluebill,B&W Model I (the initials stand forBoeing and Westervelt), the 27 1⁄2-footseaplane/biplane reached a top speed of

just 75 miles per hour on its first flighton June 15, 1916. The B&W wasWilliam Boeing’s first plane but itwouldn’t be his last. During the nextcentury, the company he founded in1916 as Pacific Aero Products would goon to become Boeing, the largest aero-space company in the world and theoriginator of the iconic Boeing 747—and his name would come to be syn-onymous with aviation innovation.Even as early as 1929, just 26 years

after Wilbur and Orville Wright’sfirst manned flight, Boeing recognizedthe seemingly limitless possibilitiesof air travel. “Now I would say thatpeople want to ride in airplanes moreand more each day—and I shall go sofar as to say they will someday regardairplane travel to be as commonplaceand incidental as train travel,” he said.“We are trustees of a veritable revolu-tion that is taking place once morein the economic, social and political

10 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

PROFILE

The Sky’s the LimitWith persistence and great vision, William E. Boeing

set the course for innovation in air travel

BY MARIA BLACKBURN

DIXON 1916-2011


fabric with the advent of this newspeed medium.”Boeing was born on Oct. 1, 1881, in

Detroit, to Wilhelm and Marie Boeing.His father was a successful mining engi-neer and timber merchant and Boeingattended the finest schools. In 1903 atthe age of 22 he left his engineeringstudies at Yale University and headedfor Grays Harbor, Wash., to learn thelogging business. His timber ventureswere successful and by the time Boeingmoved to Seattle in 1908 he had addedto his already considerable fortune.Boeing was a private man, an avid

reader and a perfectionist, according tohis son, William Boeing Jr. Once, dur-ing a visit to his airplane building shopon the Duwamish River, he caught sightof a frayed cable and stated, “I, for one,will close up shop rather than send outwork of this kind.”The advent of World War I gave

Boeing Airplane Co. a much-neededboost and the company began manu-facturing pontoons for the U.S. Navy.However, Boeing knew the contractswouldn’t last. “It now behooves usto devote our energies toward thedevelopment of machines that will beused in peacetimes,” he wrote to hiscousin Edward C. Gott, who was incharge of the airplane company’s facto-ry in 1918 when the war ended. “Inthis connection the first logical open-ing will be the development of a com-mercial flying boat.”The loss of government contracts

caused the company to struggle inthe years after the war and Boeingbranched out to make furniture andphonograph cases to stay in business.Still, the company continued to makeadvances in aviation technology andeventually built a successful airmailbusiness. By 1928, after only a dozenyears in business, Boeing employed1,000 people and had the largest plantin the country devoted solely toaircraft production.In 1934, the same year he was

awarded the Guggenheim Medal forbeing an aviation pioneer, Boeing wasaccused of operating a monopoly by theU.S. government and was forced to

divide his company to separate hismanufacturing interests from hiscommercial airlines. He retired thatyear at the age of 53 and devoted histime to horse breeding, propertydevelopment and yachting.Boeing died of a heart attack in

1956 at the age of 74 but his pioneer-ing spirit lives on. Because of hisvision, the company he foundedwould go on to become the biggestmaker of commercial aircraft and thelargest aerospace company in theworld, with more than 160,000

employees around the world.“I’ve tried to make the men around

me feel, as I do, that we are embarkedas pioneers upon a new science andindustry in which our problems are sonew and unusual that it behooves noone to dismiss any novel idea with thestatement that it ‘can’t be done,’” Boeingsaid in 1929. “Our job is to keep ever-lastingly at research and experiment,to adapt our laboratories to productionas soon as practicable, to let no newimprovement in flying and flyingequipment pass us by.”



CELEBRATING95YEARSCELEBRATING95YEARS

DIXON 1916-2011

12 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

MORE THAN NINE DECADES AFTER IT’S FOUNDING, DIXON CONTINUES TO

PUT A PREMIUM ON HONESTY, RESPECT AND STRONG CHARACTER



ON A MONDAY MORNING IN SLEEPY CHESTERTOWN, MD.,Dick Goodall, CEO of Dixon Valve and Coupling Co., is sealing thedeal with a handshake.

But he’s not standing with a client in the company’s headquarters.He’s several blocks away, in the second-grade classroom at GarnettElementary School, and the recipient of his outstretched hand is awide-eyed, 7-year-old.

“When you meet someone for the first time, shake their hand firmly,like this,” he instructs the boy and the schoolchildren seated aroundhim. “And always be sure to look the person directly in the eye.”

Each week Goodall—and two dozen other employees at Dixon—make visits to school classrooms around the Chestertown area, to pro-mote the “Character Counts” curriculum and its “Six Pillars”: trustwor-thiness, respect, responsibility, fairness, caring and citizenship.

For Goodall, the man responsible for a company that employs1,200 people, with distribution centers spread across four continents,these classroom visits are the highlight of his week. That’s becausethe values he and his colleagues share with these children are thebedrock upon which Dixon was founded 95 years ago—values thatcontinue to infuse every level of the company today, from the factoryfloor in Chestertown to a far-flung distribution site in China.

“My grandfather, Howard W. Goodall, was well respected by every-body. He set the stage for Dixon, building on the ‘Six Pillars,’” saysDick Goodall. “It’s so important to treat people the right way: withhonesty and integrity. A great IQ [intelligence quotient] is one thing,but it’s the Character Quotient that really makes the difference.”

Dixon CEO Dick Goodall (center) and Bill Hollingsworth (top) enjoy alighter moment with second-graders at Garnett Elementary Schoolduring their weekly visit to promote lessons in good character.

BY SUE DE PASQUALE


HILE DIXONVALVE AND COUPLINGCo. was officially launched on March21, 1916, founder H.W. Goodall actual-ly began laying the groundwork nearlythree decades earlier.It was in 1887 that Goodall, then

just 15 years old, quit school to beginworking for Philadelphia rubber dis-tributor Latta & Mulconroy Co. Theinquisitive Goodall, whose father was acabinetmaker, was an inveterate tinker-er. Before long he was designing hosecouplings and clamps as accessories forthe company’s rubber hose line. Mr.Mulconroy, recognizing the sales poten-tial, encouraged Goodall to promote hiscouplings to several clients. But whenGoodall asked permission to expand hisefforts to include the region’s leathertanning industry, company co-ownerLatta refused—and fired the ambitiousyoung man.Goodall saw the setback as an

opportunity. He went on to found theGoodall Rubber Co. and the Knox

Manufacturing Co. to both manufac-ture and sell hose and couplings.H.W. Goodall was more than an astuteinventor and engineer—he was a savvysalesman, who recognized the impor-tance of asking leaders of differentindustries what products they neededto do their jobs better. In an agebefore airplanes made travel easy,Goodall—impeccably garbed in histrademark suit and tie—tirelesslycrisscrossed the country, visitingconstruction sites, mining operations,oil drilling companies and railroads.His countless face-to-face visits laid

the groundwork for the launch ofDixon Valve and Coupling, in 1916.Based in Philadelphia, Pa., the companywould develop, manufacture and sellthe myriad valves and couplings thathad become so necessary to America’sburgeoning manufacturing industries.As Dixon grew over the next several

years, the fledgling company moved loca-tions, eventually settling downtown at

“I REMEMBER walking down the streetto meet my dad after WORK. He’d havehis lunch pail in one hand. We’d walkHOME and have dinner.” —Lou Farina Jr.

14 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

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Hancock and Columbia avenues in 1929.It was here that Louis Farina Sr.

came to work as a mail clerk in 1931.Farina, who passed away recently at theage of 95, shared his memories of thosedays in an interview shortly before hisdeath. Early in his tenure, with the postoffice several blocks away, he woulddeliver packages back and forth in asmall wagon. With Schmidt’s BrewingCo. just around the corner, the spicyaroma of hops often filled the air, herecalled. Another nearby neighbor,Stetson Hat Co., was a popular stop-offfor visiting celebrities. When legendarycowboy film star Tom Mix came totown, hundreds lined up outside to geta glimpse.Farina was soon put in charge of

the shipping room. “As the companygrew, I grew with the company,” saidFarina. He would go on to work atDixon for six decades.Throughout the 1930s and into the

war years, workers on the factory floorremained busy. During this period,the largest selling item in the Dixonline was rotary hose couplings—ahigh-pressure fitting used in oildrilling. Other sought after products,which remain Dixon products today,included: Boss couplings, King single

From left: H.W. Goodall at Hoover Dam;assembling parts, ca. 1940s; distribu-tion trucks prepare to head out fromthe Philadelphia warehouse; in 1940,Dixon purchased the Mulconroy Co.and incorporated its products into theDixon line.

Ties That BindMANY WHOWORK AT DIXON STAY THEIR ENTIRE CAREERSWhen Louis Farina Sr. started work as a mail clerk at Dixon in 1931, he probablycouldn’t have imagined that his family connection to the company would lastmore than 80 years.

“Howard Goodall was like a father to me. He would sit at his desk and explainthings—he was as kind as can be,” said Farina Sr., shortly before his death thisspring at age 95. The hard-working Farina had a sharp mind for numbers and itdidn’t take long for him to get promoted. “Mr. Goodall said, ‘You’re pretty goodwith figures, we should be moving you up!’”

During his first years with Dixon, Farina made his home nearby with his wifeand three young sons. “We lived just four or five blocks from the factory,” recallseldest son Lou. “As a little kid, in the summertime, I remember walking down thestreet to meet my dad after work. He’d have his lunch pail in one hand. We’d walkhome and have dinner.”

By age 17, in June 1959, Lou Farina Jr. was ready to follow in his father’s footstepsand join the Dixon payroll. Following his father’s advice, he says, “I mostly did the jobsno one else wanted to do”—from filing, to running errands to washing the companycars. He recalls that one task was particularly unpopular. “It was hot all over the factorybut the top floor was especially hot. They couldn’t get anybody to do the filing—it musthave been 150 degrees up there. So I went in there and did it for four days straight.”

By the time Farina Jr. started with Dixon, his family had moved out to the north-ern part of the city, about 10 miles from the factory. Most days, he and his fathertook a bus and train to get to work. In the winter, when the snow piled high, therewere times when the buses couldn’t run. The younger Farina said he was oftentempted to call in absent, citing the lack of available transportation. But he could-n’t. “My dad would walk the whole way to get to work. So I couldn’t get away withit,” says Farina Jr., who went on to become company president.

For Farina Sr., the reasons for his loyalty were clear. “The Goodalls were verygood to me. Dixon always treated me like family.”


and double bolt hose clamps, airhammer couplings, suction couplings,Air King universal couplings and Kingcombination nipples.On Oct. 12, 1934, the company

opened its first international distribu-tion center, in Canada.Never content to rest on his laurels,

H.W. Goodall and his son R.B.—whohad joined the business in 1929—continually pushed for Dixon to devel-op new products. Among the Dixon“firsts” over the ensuing years: groundjoint Boss and air hammer couplings;steel hose menders and Boss-Lock camand groove.In 1940, some half a century after

he had launched his career at Latta& Mulconroy Co., H.W. Goodall ledDixon’s purchase of the company (atthat point known as the MulconroyCo.) and incorporated its products intothe Dixon line as Holedall couplings.With brisk sales and ongoing inno-

vation, the future for Dixon lookedbright. But trouble brewed on thehorizon. The advent of World War II,which transformed the business land-scape across the country, would throwa wrench in the wheel of the company’sexpansion.

HE JAPANESE BOMBINGof Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7,1941, pushed the UnitedStates into war—andlaunched a voracious needfor industrial products to

support the efforts of American troopson multiple fronts.Many of Dixon’s products fell under

the federal government priority system,and before long the company’s manu-facturing facilities were being usedalmost entirely for military contracts.As Louis Farina Sr. remembered

it, the nearby Frankford Arsenal couldnot keep up with the demand for fuseplugs for anti-aircraft shells. So thegovernment turned to Dixon to pro-duce 380,000 fuse plugs, which wererun on a six-spindle automatic screwmachine—only one of two inPhiladelphia at the time.“We sure were busy,” recalled Farina.

Because so many young men were calledup to serve on the war front, Dixonturned to the women in the communityto lend a hand on the factory floor. BothFarina’s mother and sister spent timerunning the machines, he says.With so many resources devoted to

government contracts, the company was

not able to keep up with supplying prod-ucts to its commercial hose distributorbase. A former Dixon sales manager,sensing an opportunity, created a part-nership and started the Hose AccessoriesCo. (later known as Le-Hi Valve andCoupling), which made huge inroadsinto Dixon’s distributor business.Then, when the war ended, all the

government contracts dried up—seem-ingly overnight. Thousands of Dixoncouplings sat gathering dust at theColumbus Depot and would eventuallybe disposed of for commercial use.It would take fresh energy and

vision to rebuild Dixon’s customer base.Fortunately, R.B. Goodall was up to thetask. The Virginia Military Institutegraduate, who also held a degree fromBabson College, gradually assumedmore leadership in the company as hisaging father slowed down.In 1951, after returning from a busi-

ness trip to California, H.W. Goodallfell ill—and died 10 days later. With thedeath of Dixon’s founder, the company’sleadership officially passed to R.B.Goodall, who assumed the title ofpresident and chief operating officer.“His door was always open,” recalls

Dick Goodall of his father, R.B., who

16 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1Lou F. Farina

From left: The Buck Foundry, 1951; Dixon's new factory in Chestertown, 1976; Richard B. Goodall, the company's second president.

T



led the company through severaldecades of growth and prosperity. “Hewould always listen and encourage.”Dixon employees, whether high-leveladministrators or machinists from thefaculty floor, felt comfortable stoppingby to share with R.B. Goodall any issuesthat were bothering them, says his son.In 1952, Dixon leaders made the

wise decision to purchase the Buck Iron

Co. in nearby Lancaster, Pa., therebyensuring a plentiful source of malleableiron, brass, aluminum and ductile cast-ings for hose couplings.Seven years later, in 1959, Lou

Farina Jr. joined the Dixon payroll, atage 17. After his first week on the job,Farina was approached by the vice pres-ident of sales. “He said, ‘Mr. Goodallsaw what you’ve been doing and he’sgoing to start paying you $5 more perweek.’ That meant I’d be earning $50a week. I felt rich!” says Farina.R.B. Goodall’s faith in him would

pay off. The teen who started out wash-ing cars and delivering packages to thenearby Greyhound bus station steadilyclimbed the company ladder. In 2001,he was named president—the compa-ny’s first non-family member ever tohold that position.The late 1960s and 1970s saw

innovation in the way Dixon distrib-uted products to its thriving client base.

Until that time, it could take days,sometimes weeks, to ship products tocustomers across the country. TheDixon management team recognizedthe wisdom of establishing distributioncenters—warehouses that could bestocked with products—at locationsacross the country (and later aroundthe world). With this breakthrough,customers could be assured of promptand efficient delivery of whatever theyneeded to keep their businesses rolling.During these years, Dixon leaders

also began forging partnerships withother manufacturers, a move thatenabled Dixon to offer its customersimportant products—such as wormgear clamps—that weren’t being madein-house. Though Dixon would contin-ue to manufacture most of the productsit sells, it did begin marketing a limitednumber of hose fittings and accessoriesmade by other manufacturers.With steady growth came the need

for a larger work force. Dixon began tooutgrow its Philadelphia headquarters,and R.B. Goodall started the search fora new site for the factory.One day, while returning home

from a visit to Maryland’s EasternShore, he found just the facility—andthe town—he was looking for.

In 1952, Dixon leaders made the WISE decision toPURCHASE the Buck Iron Co., thereby ensuring aplentiful SOURCE of malleable iron, brass, aluminumand ductile castings for hose COUPLINGS.


18 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

OR MANY YEARS, VITAFoods, a pickling operation,had been a major employerof residents living in andaround Chestertown, Md.—a small waterfront communi-

ty that gained fame during colonialtimes for hosting its own “tea party”against the British (see “At Home on theEastern Shore,” p. 21).When Vita (now headquartered

in Chicago) consolidated operationsin New England in the early 1970s,it left empty a spacious plant with 10acres of land. R.B. Goodall, with sonsDick and Doug, didn’t have to thinklong before making a move to pur-chase the property and its facilities.Chestertown leaders were thrilled bythe prospect of new jobs.Renovations began in earnest in

1975, recalls Doug Goodall. Equippedwith a degree in engineering, he hadspent his first years with the company,

in the late 1960s and early 1970s, learn-ing everything possible about the man-ufacturing end of things. He was thuswell equipped to lead the setup of thenew plant and train the new work force.“Converting a pickle plant into a

factory was a challenging job,” recallsGoodall. “We lived in a motel andworked every waking hour during theweek—then we’d go home to our fami-lies on the weekend.” Despite the hectic

pace, he says, “It was a labor of love. Itwas more fun than you can imagine.”By 1976, Dixon was ready to say

goodbye to downtown Philadelphia andestablish headquarters in Chestertown.Jim Canalichio, who had joined

Dixon in 1970, was one of just 15employees who moved with the com-pany to its new location. “We saw itas a real opportunity,” says Canalichio,whose son, J.C., is today director ofinformation technology at Dixon.“It had gotten very difficult inPhiladelphia to find the workers weneeded. In Chestertown we were ableto attract people from a broad rangeof backgrounds.”

The early hiring process was fastand furious, recalls Doug Goodall.“Once we had a new machine up andrunning, we’d install a light over it,interview someone to work on it, andby the end of the day, they’d be making

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On the warehouse floor: Today’s Dixon corporate support staff includes (top row, l to r): Taylor Goodall, Scott Jones, Mike Coakley,Mark Vansant. Bottom row: Jim McColigan, Mary Price, Bob Grace, J.C. Canalichio.

“In CHESTERTOWN we were able toattract people from a BROAD RANGEof backgrounds.” —Jim Canalichio



parts.” Though few employees arrivedwith the precise skill set needed,Goodall says, the company set up anextensive training program, includingan apprenticeship for machinists that isstill going strong. Participants spendfour years on the factory floor and inclass, accumulating 2,000-plus hours oftraining (in areas such as machine shopprogramming, blueprint reading anddrafting), ultimately earning the covet-

ed status of “journeyman” in a particu-lar manufacturing specialty.In addition, nearby Washington

College, a small liberal arts school,graduated a steady stream of broad-thinking innovators—some of whomwould become key players on Dixon’sexecutive leadership team.With both of his sons now playing

an important role in the company, R.B.Goodall led Dixon through a prosper-ous period of expansion. In 1980,Dixon entered the cam and groovemarket by applying for a patent for the“Boss-Lock”—a fitting with a safety-locking handle. The cam and grooveline further expanded in 1985 withthe purchase of the Le-Hi AndrewsDivision of Parker Hannifin.Dixon’s international footprint also

broadened, with the opening in 1981 ofDixon Adflow Ltd. (now Dixon GroupEurope) in Preston, United Kingdom.(Today the company’s European loca-tions also include a facility in Troisdorf-Spich, Germany, which was establishedin 1998.) Dixon further expanded itsmix of products into the hydraulic andpneumatic quick disconnect couplingmarket, in 1993, by purchasing thePerfecting Coupling Co. (now DixonQuick Coupling).The following year, R.B. Goodall

passed away, after 65 years with thecompany. Sons Dick and Doug—thethird generation of the Goodall family—stepped in to lead, without missing a beat.In 1996, Dixon made a significant

move by expanding its footprint to theLand Down Under, with the purchaseof Australian manufacturer Minsup.Now known as Dixon Asia Pacific, thecompany has expanded its fire protec-tion products and has grown to incor-porate six locations across Australia.Other acquisitions quickly followed:

in 1999, American Coupling Co. (nowDixon Brass), which added sophisticat-ed manufacturing of pneumatic brasshose fittings, couplings and adaptors;and Bayco Industries, which wasmerged with the already present Dixonoperation in Canada to become DixonGroup Canada. Dixon Bayco U.S.A., theU.S. segment of Bayco Industries, isnow known as Dixon Bayco. The pur-

DIXON’S LEADERS areknown for their longevity.Over the company’s 95-yearhistory, just five men haveheld the post of president:

A Start-Up SamplerWith the American economy strong, theperiod when Dixon launched was apromising era for entrepreneurs. A sam-pling of other companies that wereestablished around the same time:

GENERAL TIRE AND RUBBER: The compa-ny that made its brand famous with theslogan, “Sooner or later, you’ll ownGenerals,”was founded in 1915 in Akron,Ohio, byWilliam F. O’Neil. Branching outinto broadcasting in the 1940s, it went onto acquire radio and TV stations and net-works across the U.S. Later reorganizedinto holding company GenCorp, GeneralTire was then sold to German tire makerContinental AG—and still exists as part ofContinental's American operations.CURTISS CANDY CO.: Founded by OttoSchnering in 1916, near Chicago, Ill., thecompany debuted with its Kandy Kake,refashioned in 1921 as the Baby Ruth bar.Next came the popular chocolate-coveredpeanut butter crunch, Butterfinger.Curtiss was purchased by StandardBrands in 1964, which merged withNabisco in 1981; in 1990, NJR Nabiscosold the Curtiss brands to Nestle.NASHMOTORS: The automobile manu-facturer that pioneered seatbelts (1950)and the compact (1950), subcompact(1970) and muscle car (1957) categories,was established in Kenosha,Wis., in 1916,by General Motors president CharlesW.Nash. The Nash Model 671, whichdebuted a year later, was the first in along line of vehicles to bear the Nashname. In 1954, Nash merged with HudsonMotor Car Co. to become AmericanMotors Corp.—which was ultimatelyacquired by Chrysler Corp. in 1987,becoming the Jeep-Eagle division.THE BOEING CO.: The multinational aero-space and defense corporation wasfounded in 1916 byWilliam E. Boeing inSeattle, Wash. (See p. 10 for more.)PHILLIPS PETROLEUM: Founded in1917 by brothers L.E. Phillips and FrankPhillips, the company headquartered inBartlesville, Okla., would go on to gainfame for its Phillips 66 brand, named inpart to honor the historic U.S. highway,Route 66. Phillips merged with ConocoInc. in 2002 to become ConocoPhillips.

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The Dixon Driller is the longest continuallyrunning corporate advertising publica-tion in the United States.

HowardW. GoodallRichard B. GoodallRichard L. GoodallLouis Farina Jr.Bob Grace


20 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

chase expanded Dixon’s product line toinclude petroleum and dry bulk fittings.Dixon extended its reach into the

food and beverage market in 2000with the purchase of Bradford Fittings(now Dixon Sanitary), which offersa full line of 304 and 316L stainlesssteel fittings for use in the food, dairy,beverage, cosmetic, pharmaceuticaland industrial markets. Four yearslater, the company created Dixon Fireto serve the fire protection industry;and in 2006, added more brass firehose fittings to its line with the acquisi-tion of Powhatan.“When I started as a sales trainee in

1989, we had a catalog that was 112pages long that included all the productswe sold,” says Scott Jones, today vicepresident of sales and marketing. “In the21 years since then we have had nineacquisitions that we’ve assimilated intoour product mix and our distributionsystem. The Dixon catalog is now 720pages long! Today we’re able to take alot more products to our customers.”

With the vast increase in productofferings has come a strategic decisionto establish sales offices and distribu-tion sites in locales all over the world:In addition to Australia, Dixon has apresence in Europe, Mexico, Russia,China and India.“We’ve set ourselves apart in deliv-

ery by getting things quickly to ourcustomers. They’ve come to rely onDixon to carry the inventory they need,and in most cases they can get whatthey need the same day or the verynext day,” says Bob Grace. He startedas a distribution manager in 1989 andtoday is Dixon president.Grace, like Jones and other key

members of Dixon’s management team,spends a significant amount of timetraveling to the company’s far-flungsales offices and distribution sites; hespends about one week of every monthon the road.“While we do a fair amount of

videoconferencing, you can’t replacethe face-to-face,” Grace says. “It’s so

important to spend time with Dixon’speople, going over their business plans,letting them know just how importantthey are to the company.”And that personal connection is

extended to Dixon’s customers, says Jones.“We want Dixon to be the easiest com-pany to do business with and we’re notgoing to compromise,” he says. “When acustomer dials a Dixon phone number,they’ll get a live person who picks upthe phone within the first two rings. Itall goes back to our core mission: We

Goodall family members in Dixon’s employ include (l to r) Doug Goodall (an employee of Buck Foundry), his father DougGoodall, Dick Goodall, Kate Gray (daughter of Dick Goodall), and Taylor Goodall, son of Dick Goodall.

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DIXON DIVISIONALMANAGEMENT TEAMBoss:Wayne SpurrierDixon Bayco: Bob KoeningerDixon Brass: Jim JablonskyDixon Powhatan: Hazen ArnoldDixon Quick Coupling: Scott ClarkDixon Sanitary: Sally BesgroveDixon Specialty Hose: Ron Athey


are ‘wrapped around’ our customers.”Under the direction of human

resources vice president Mary Price,Dixon now offers an extensive leader-ship training program; at variouspoints during the year, promisingemployees from all over the worldcome to Chestertown for several inten-sive days of workshops and seminars.In addition to being immersed inDixon’s customer service model, theyalso discover firsthand that the “SixPillars” of character remain key to thecompany’s success.“We have a very unique culture;

it’s a culture of people wanting to worktogether. There’s a spirit of cooperationand a sense of family,” says Grace.Agrees Jones, “We treat all of our

employees with mutual respect. Wedon’t have any big shots sticking theirchests out and making all the decisions.There’s a culture of working together.”One key indication that this approach

works is Dixon’s low employee turnoverrates. In an age when most people canexpect to change jobs—and employers—eight or nine times throughout their

working lives, Dixon stands out for itsemployee retention, at every level.With the company’s 100th birthday

just around the corner, what will thefuture hold? Dixon leaders are currentlyinvolved in a strategic planning processaimed at setting goals for the next 10 years.CEO Dick Goodall is pleased to see

the family-owned business grow toinclude the fourth generation: His son,

Taylor, who has worked in many differ-ent areas of Dixon’s operations, hasnow been with Dixon for seven years.He recently joined the managementteam as vice president for distribution,a role that encompasses all the compa-ny’s domestic branch locations. “Itravel about one week out of eachmonth,” he says, including “bench-marking” trips to Dixon distributionsites in Australia, Canada, Mexico and

the United Kingdom. Like his father,Taylor Goodall sees continued expan-sion in international markets.

Says Bob Grace, “In the UnitedStates, Dixon has a very strong brandrecognition. We’re hoping to buildthat overseas, by gaining strongholds inplaces like India, China, Russia andSingapore. We want to expand the Dixonname and footprint across the globe.”

“H.W. Goodall wouldn’t havedreamed of how far Dixon has come,”says Richard “Flats” Flaherty, whoretired as vice president of sales andmarketing in 2010, after 40-plus yearswith the company. “Dixon has alwaysstrived to be easy to do business with—and at the same time, to be better at itthan anyone else. For some companiesthat’s lip service, but at Dixon, that’swhat we do every day.”


When Dixon pulled up stakes from gritty, downtownPhiladelphia and moved to serene Chestertown, Md., in1976, the contrast couldn’t have been more stark.

Described as “a treasure hidden in plain sight” by theNational Trust for Historic Preservation, Chestertown islocated on the banks of the Chester River—a riverfront linedwith historic 18th-century homes. With some 5,000 citizens,the town is proud of its rich colonial heritage, which it cele-brates each year with the Chestertown Tea PartyFestival. Its highlight is a re-enactment of the May1774 protest, during which defiant residents, angeredby British taxation, purportedly boarded a schoonerand dumped its tea into the sea. The event came fivemonths after the better-known Boston Tea Party.

Chestertown is also home to Washington College,the nation’s 10th oldest college, established in 1782.A small liberal arts school of about 1,300 students,Washington College is perhaps best known for itsSophie Kerr Prize, awarded each year to a graduatingsenior with the greatest literary potential;the prize is the largest undergraduate award in thecountry, currently valued at about $60,000.

Dixon employees who make their homes in and aroundChestertown treasure its beautiful rural setting—its rollingfarmlands and Chesapeake Bay estuaries. They enjoystrolling a main street lined with bed-and-breakfasts, smallrestaurants and shops. And they find comfort in the smalltown atmosphere, where everyone seems to know eachother, and children can play safely and happily in the sur-rounding parks, fields and streams.

At Home on the Eastern Shore

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“H.W. Goodall WOULDN’T haveDREAMED of how far Dixon hascome.” —Richard “Flats” Flaherty


Service, Speed, Style… and Steerage

Seventy-five years ago it was transport,not cruising, that kept the great ships afloat

BY MIKE FIELD

22 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

DIXON 1916-2011


LISTEN… in the roll and lap of theocean’s waves you can hear the names ofthat bygone era of the mid-1800s to early1900s: theMauretania and Lusitania, theOceanic and Europa, Queen Mary and theNormandie, the Olympic and her ill-fatedsister, the Titanic. They were among thegreat ocean liners in the age of steam,before jet travel, when crossing the seademanded time and money and—for theprivileged elite in first class—a sure senseof style and elegance.A great-uncle of mine was born

aboard the liner City of Rome as itcrossed the Atlantic and all his life borethe name “Seaborne” to show it—a notuncommon practice in those days.Perhaps your family, too, has a story

about one of the great ships and some-one who made a passage to a new lifein one. For many, those stories are notof teacups and caviar, but rathercramped quarters, seasickness and dis-comfort. Whether above the promenadedeck or below it, those voyages were anevent to be remembered and talkedabout and passed on. No wonder thenthe White Star Line could charge today’sequivalent of $75,000 for a first-classsuite aboard the maiden voyage of itsdoomed Titanic; even the poor folks inthird class—technically called steeragebecause they were housed in the lowerdecks in the vicinity of the ship’s propul-sion and control mechanisms—had toscrape together about $35 ($620 today),



the equivalent of two or moreweeks’ wages to book passage.But steerage, in fact, was

where the money was.Although the great ship lines never let on,the one-way steerage class passengersbound for the Americas to fill anunquenchable thirst for abundant cheaplabor were the ocean liner’s bread-and-butter. Typically the ships carried two orthree times the number of third-class pas-sengers as those in first—and often incramped, austere and uncomfortable con-ditions. Earlier, in the 19th century, third-class passengers slept packed together inimmense dormitories (which is why thesteamship Adriatic could transport 50passengers in first class and more than800 below decks in steerage). But by thesecond decade of the new century steer-age passengers were housed in compactcabins with bunks, cold running waterand toilets; daily meals were provided in acommon dining area. White Star Line’sthree great “Olympic-class” sisters—Olympic, Titanic, Britannic—even had athird-class common area with its ownpiano, though steerage entertainment wasleft strictly to the passengers’ own making.Yet nearly 100 years later it is the

starched white collars, the Worth gownsand air of assured entitlement that came

with first-class passage that still draw ourfascinated attention. Here is the last mealthe first-class passengers aboard theTitanic ate before hearing an eveningconcert, wandering off to bed and ulti-mately claiming the majority of thespaces in the lifeboats: oysters and Belugacaviar followed by cream of barley soup; athird course of poached salmon steaksthen filet mignon in wine; next sauteedduck breast with figs chased with a lemonsorbet to clear the palate; finally a roastguinea hen with raspberries and a Belgianendive salad to conclude. After theTitanic’s great tragedy in 1912, the num-ber of lifeboats, the height of the interiorwatertight bulkheads and the strength ofthe ships’ hulls all changed. However theelegance, sophistication, fine dining andglamour remained.Ocean liners, designed to take on the

seas in all seasons and all weather, lookdistinctly different than the floating behe-moths that are the modern cruise ship.This year the cruise industry expects tobook 16 million passengers worldwide inships like the $1.4 billion Allure of theSeas, which entered service last Decembercarrying 6,300 passengers on 16 deckswith a 1,400-seat theater, ice skating rinkand its own Starbucks. The emphasis inthese ships is on grand open spaces, exte-

24 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

Previous page: Illustration of theQueen Mary ocean liner. This page,left to right: The main dining roomof the Titanic, the largest ship ofits day; an advertising poster forthe Cunard Star Line, featuringdetails of the Queen Mary’s layout;the Mauretania in dry dock inSouthampton in 1922; today’smassive Allure of the Seas, withits 16 decks, and space for 6,300passengers.

Not forgotten, and not entirely gone, the great ocean liners of thepast—or parts of them—may still be seen in various forms hereand there. Although most great ships typically have a life span ofonly decades before being overcome by fatigue and newer tech-nology, there are about three dozen classic ocean liners stillaround today. Some are floating, such as the very early S.S. GreatBritain (1843), now a maritime heritage site in Bristol, England, ortourist attractions like the RMS Queen Mary, famously convertedto a hotel and conference center in Long Beach, Calif.One of the greatest of the ocean liners—the S.S. United States,

last holder of the Blue Riband award—is tied up in Philadelphiawhile volunteers attempt to raise millions to refurbish her. Someare laid up and out of service and threatened with likely decon-struction for scrap. About a dozen from the 1950s and ’60s arestill actively sailing as cruise ships in smaller markets focusingon a more intimate passenger experience. Although all of thegreat coal-burning four-funnel liners have been sunk orscrapped, you still can visit the beautifully hand-carved, oak-pan-eled dining room from the Olympic at the White Swan Hotel inAlnwick, England. —MIKE FIELD

Touching History


What is important to recognize is that the great vessels of thatbygone era were ocean liners, not cruise ships. They were travel-ing to a destination with purpose, often carrying valuable cargoin addition to their passengers. British liners contracted withHis Majesty’s government to carry the mail could use the prefixRMS or Royal Mail Ship—both the Lusitania and the Titanic usedthe RMS prefix and went down with mail aboard.

Speed, then, became an important component of a ship’s rep-utation. For more than 100 years, starting in 1838, an unofficial

accolade known as the Blue Riband was awarded to the passengerliner crossing the Atlantic Ocean in regular service with the recordhighest speed. First to claim the title was the paddle wheelsteamship Sirius, which traveled from New Jersey to Ireland in 18days at an average speed of 8 knots. By 1952, the last winner—the S.S. United States—was making the trip in three days, 12hours, 12 minutes, at nearly 35 knots (about 40 mph). In the’teens and 1920s most of the great ocean liners plying the Atlanticwere making the passage in about five days’ time.

Crossing or Cruising?


rior cabinswith windowsand, increas-ingly, their ownbalconies, and a

plethora of shops, theaters, pools, restau-rants and other amenities. When askedby The New York Times recently whatcruise passengers desire most, RoyalCaribbean President and ChiefExecutive Officer Adam Goldsteinanswered simply: “Options, options,variety, variety.” To accommodate theircustomers’ near-constant need for dis-traction, modern cruise ships locatealmost all their common areas and mostof their cabins in the unconstrainedspace above decks, giving them thepeculiar appearance of floating condo-miniums stacked into the sky.The classic ocean liner, by contrast,

features a distinct hull, typically paintedblack and high in freeboard, which isthe distance from the waterline to decklevel. Many of the cabins and publicspaces are thus contained within thehull itself, making them smaller, withlower ceilings, and giving them smallstout portholes rather than large flimsywindows, which would easily wash outand flood a ship in rough weather. Hereagain, form follows function, and what

most differentiates life aboard the greatclassic liners from the cruise ships oftoday was the relative lack of diversionprovided to the passengers.Ocean liners were big ships going

somewhere at great speeds with pur-pose. By today’s standards, the enter-tainment options offered by the ship’smanagement were scarce, and for themost part, passengers were expected toamuse themselves. This they typicallydid by writing letters or keeping jour-nals; reading in the ship’s well-stockedlending library; smoking, playing cardsand gambling in the men’s lounge; lis-tening to the ship’s orchestra (usuallyconsisting of a piano and small stringsection); and dining, drinking anddancing at elaborate formal eveningsoirees. There may have been a smallindoor pool, more suitable for plungingthan lap swimming, and a gymnasiumwith the latest in modern exerciseequipment. There was shuffleboard anddeck quoits, which is a British-inventedgame in which rope rings are tossed ata stationary peg. In fair weather therewas shooting practice at clay targets offthe ship’s stern. And for many passen-gers the highlight of a crossing was sim-ply strolling the promenade deck, oroccupying a well-placed deck chair to

watch the ocean roll endlessly by.Every trip aboard an ocean liner was

made to feel like a unique and specialoccasion. Yet beneath it all lay a kind ofsteady routine. In her 24-year career, theOlympic—when not called into wartimeservice as a troop transport ship—pliedthe Atlantic transit on a four-week cycle.It started with a seven-day voyage fromSouthampton to New York, followed by3 ½ days to restock and board new pas-sengers, then a longer return trip withadditional stops at Plymouth andCherbourg before reachingSouthampton. Again a 3 ½-day turn-around was required before beginningthe next voyage. Marvels of industrialage technology, with miles of cabling,pipes, and wiring of incredible complex-ity, the real miracle for these grand shipsis that for so many journeys, life onboard was quiet and uneventful.It was almost enough to make one

forget the great risk that any sea voyageentails. “When anyone asks me how Ican best describe my experience innearly 40 years at sea, I merely say,uneventful,” remarked the man whofirst commanded the Olympic. A yearlater, E.J. Smith would sail out ofSouthampton, and into the pages ofhistory … as captain of the Titanic.

—MIKE FIELD


26 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

BY MIKE FIELD

WHEN JOHN D. ROCKEFELLER was a youngman, a minister once offered him the followingguidance: “Earn all you can. Give all you can.”It was advice that Rockefeller followed the

rest of his long life. In his earning, throughoutthe latter half of the 1800s, he created the mod-ern petroleum business. Through his giving, herevolutionized philanthropy. Together, thosetwo industries in countless waysshaped America in the 20thcentury.Oil tycoon J. Paul Getty

famously had this succinctadvice for how to becomewealthy: “Rise early. Work late.Strike oil.” John D. Rockefelleramassed his wealth—at onepoint his net worth was estimat-ed to be equal to roughly 2 per-cent of the country’s GNP—without ever striking a gusher.In fact, even though his name isforever associated with Big Oil,it was only later in his careerthat Rockefeller owned oil wells. His initialforay into the industry was through petroleumrefining, a straightforward industrial processthat has fixed costs and relatively restrainedand predictable profits. From the start, he wascontent to let others take the big risks (andpotentially make the big fortunes) drilling foroil. Rockefeller’s particular genius was in inno-vating new technologies and new business tech-niques that enabled him to consolidate thebusiness and eventually create a monopoly—the Standard Oil Trust—that helped make him(depending on whom you asked) the mostrespected, or the most reviled, businessman in

American history.And certainly, he was the richest: When

Forbes compiled its list of the richest men inhistory, Rockefeller easily topped the chartswith an amassed wealth equal to $338 billionin today’s dollars. By way of comparison, con-sider that Bill Gates, the Microsoft founder andcomputer pioneer, comes in 31st on the list

with a measly $54 billion or so.In these matters it’s important to

keep all the zeros in those figures intheir proper perspective. On Sept.29, 1916, The New York Times gavefront-page coverage to a run-up inthe price of oil stocks sparked by a10-cents-a-barrel increase in theprice of crude petroleum. Five yearsearlier the Supreme Court hadruled that Standard Oil was effec-tively a monopoly made illegalunder the Sherman Antitrust Act.The Court ordered the companybroken up into 34 smaller compa-nies, many of which are familiar

names today: Conoco, Amoco, Chevron,Exxon, Mobil and others.Rockefeller, as the holder of 25 percent of

all Standard Oil stock, was given the same per-centage of stock in each of the new companies.Anyone who thought the court decision was aform of financial punishment aimed at StandardOil’s founder clearly missed this fine print. Now,in 1916, trading at a combined price (when youadded the value of the stock of each of the 34companies) of more than $2,000 a share, thestock prices made Rockefeller the world’s firstbillionaire. This was at a time when a first-classstamp cost 2 cents, and even more tellingly, the

ritzP U T T I N ’ O N T H E

Rockefellereasily topped

the charts withan amassed

wealth equal to$338 billion intoday’s dollars.

DIXON 1916-2011


S U MM E R 20 1 1 � BOSS 27

THE STORY OF

JOHN D. ROCKEFELLER’SGETTING AND GIVING

AND HOW IT CHANGED

AMERICA

WWW. D I X O N V A LV E . C O M


entire federal government budget wasonly about $710 million. No wonderthen that the expression “rich asRockefeller” came into everyday use fordescribing extreme wealth.No one quite knew what to make

of one man having that much money.Many were outraged. Even the staidGray Lady herself, the usually reservedNew York Times, struck a tone halfwaybetween breathless excitement andstern moral disapprobation on the dayfollowing its announcement ofRockefeller’s billionaire status.Apparently that story only stoked theflames of the Wall Street feeding frenzy,causing stocks to race even furtherahead, and adding a cool eight mil toRockefeller’s wealth: ROCKEFELLERGETS $8,028,000 IN DAY shouted theTimes’ front page headline. The paper

also noted that now the combined stockvalue of all the Standard Oil spin-offcompanies was equal to twice the entiredebt of the United States.All in all, it was an impressive

achievement for a man born to modestcircumstances who started out his busi-ness career as a wholesale greengrocer.Born on July 8, 1839, the second of

six children in a small town not farfrom Ithaca, N.Y., young Rockefellerdisplayed a sobriety and seriousness atan early age—in direct contrast to thenotorious dalliances and escapades thatearned his father the nickname “DevilBill.” His mother, Eliza, was a devoutBaptist and instilled in her son a dedi-cation to hard work and charitable giv-ing. From his first days he gave a por-tion of all his earnings to charity and bythe age of 20 he was tithing—donating

a tenth of all he earned—to his Baptistchurch. His two main ambitions as ayouth, he once confided, were to earn$100,000 and to live to be 100. In theend, he nearly achieved both.As a boy, Rockefeller and his family

moved to Cleveland, where he graduat-ed from high school and then brieflystudied bookkeeping. Starting his ownwholesale produce company with abusiness partner in 1859, Rockefellerwas ideally situated at the confluence oftwo important discoveries.The first was made by Pennsylvania

businessman Samuel Martin Kier. In1851, he developed a method of heatingand distilling the crude petroleum oilthat had been seeping into area saltwells; Kier produced a clear com-bustible liquid that he sold under thename of “Carbon Oil” —today com-

28 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

John D. Rockefeller in a 1917portrait by John Singer Sargent;Standard Oil Refinery No. 1 inCleveland, Ohio, 1899; a politicalcartoon from 1904 demonstratesAmerican fears about theStandard Oil Company's vastand growing power over theAmerican government.

NO ONE QUITE KNEW WHAT TO MAKE OF ONE MAN HAVING THAT MUCH MONEY.MANY WERE OUTRAGED.


monly known as kerosene. It was atimely discovery, as the last of the whal-ing grounds were being depopulatedand the price of whale oil was skyrock-eting; people needed something to fueltheir lamps.Then, in the summer of the same

year Rockefeller opened his business,Edwin Drake drilled 70 feet into theground in a Pennsylvania farmsteadand produced the world’s first oil well.(Until the discovery of oil in Texas in1901, Pennsylvania would produce halfthe world’s oil supply.)Need and resource and technology

had all come together to create a newindustry and John D. Rockefeller,showing the innate business savvy thatwas to define his entire life, was quickto recognize the opportunity. In 1863,Rockefeller and his business partnersbuilt an oil refinery in Cleveland’sindustrial area, near the railroad tracksthat would enable them to ship the newcommodity kerosene all over theUnited States. Within two years he wasable to buy out his partners for $72,500at auction; it was, he later recounted,“the day that determined my career.”It was around this time that

Rockefeller began life as a family man.He married Laura Celestia Spelman in1864 (about whom he would later say,“Her judgment was always better thanmine. Without her keen advice, Iwould be a poor man.”) The two wouldgo on to have five children: fourdaughters and a son, John D.Rockefeller Jr.As a businessman, Rockefeller had

a keen instinct and a laser-like focuson bringing what he saw as order andrationality to a wildly chaotic evolvingindustry. He believed deeply in thevalue of what he did, saying often thatthe purpose of his company was toprovide “the poor man’s light.” In 1870he formed Standard Oil of Ohio, andrapidly built it to the largest and mostprofitable refinery in the state. Neverafraid to borrow money or drive a hardbargain, he bought up competitors atevery opportunity—in one four-monthperiod in 1872, in what came to beknown as the “Cleveland Massacre,” he

purchased 22 of 26 competitors in hishometown—and he worked tirelesslyto improve efficiency and economy inhis refineries. The size of his operationenabled him to demand, and receive,substantial discounts and kickbackson the railroad shipping costs of hiskerosene, which he then used to under-cut his competitors.

Rockefeller was a man with avision, but surprisingly, it may not havebeen as simple as wanting to be therichest man in the world. He set hismind on greater accomplishments. “Ihad no ambition to make a fortune,” helater recalled. “Mere moneymaking hasnever been my goal. I had an ambitionto build.” And build he did. By the endof the 1870s, Standard Oil was refiningmore than nine-tenths of the oil in theUnited States and Rockefeller wasalready a millionaire.Despite its immense size (it was the

world’s largest and wealthiest corpora-tion), Standard Oil was a remarkablyefficient organization and was surpris-ingly quick to satisfy customers andadjust to new market realities.Rockefeller was proud of the fact thatunder Standard’s monopolistic prac-tices (which he portrayed as merelybringing rationality and efficiency tothe marketplace), the consumer priceof kerosene fell by 90 percent. In addi-

tion to eliminating competitors,Standard also eliminated many of theresellers and middlemen that inflatedthe final cost of kerosene.To further increase efficiency, the

corporation standardized product, con-tainers and shipping. Moreover,Standard Oil was agile enough to with-stand the invention of the electric lightand the steady decline for keroseneused for lamps that resulted. Aroundthis time a former waste product of thedistillation process—gasoline—took onnew importance, and Standard wasquick to capitalize on the nation’sgrowing thirst for it. As the yearsadvanced, the value of Standard Oilstock—and Rockefeller’s millions—seemed to multiply endlessly.And yet, probably owing to his

strict evangelical Baptist upbringing,Rockefeller was noticeably lacking inthe usual millionaire vices. He did notdrink, smoke, dance or, apparently,keep mistresses. Always physicallyactive and a keen sportsman, near theage of 60 he stumbled into golf andthereafter played nearly every day forthe rest of his life. He lived, dressed, ateand recreated as you would expect of amulti-millionaire; but unlike the greatrobber barons of his age, he did notcollect yachts or castles or Renaissancepaintings. When he retired from thedaily management of his businessaround the turn of the century (he wasin his 50s at the time), rather than col-lecting great works, he set about doingthem, turning his sharp analyticalmind to charitable giving with thesame relentless efficiency and effective-ness with which he had built his com-panies. In the process he transformedthe concept of charity from merely giv-ing alms to the modern philanthropicideal of investing in a better tomorrow.In 1909, Rockefeller wrote a short

treatise describing his own evolvingunderstanding of charity. In TheDifficult Art of Giving, he recounts howinitially he followed “the haphazardfashion of giving here and there asappeals presented themselves.” But withincreasing wealth came a growingunderstanding that carefully targeted



30 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

giving—like good investing—is sure tobring the highest returns. “We havesought, so far as we could,” he wrote,“to make investments in such a way aswill tend to multiply, to cheapen, andto diffuse as universally as possiblethe comforts of life.” Four years later,in 1913, he established the RockefellerFoundation with the explicit intentof developing systematic methods ofphilanthropy.In his philanthropy, like in building

the Standard Oil petroleum empire,John D. Rockefeller was an astute judgeof character and eager to enlist the very

best minds and ideas: initially Baptistclergyman Frederick T. Gates, whoguided the transformation of theUniversity of Chicago from a smallBaptist college to a pre-eminentresearch university with the aid ofRockefeller money; later RaymondFosdick and George Vincent helpedplan Rockefeller Foundation benefac-tions, particularly in the areas of highereducation and medicine, where muchof the foundation’s funds, energies andoriginal ideas ultimately had suchtransformative effect.It is nearly impossible to overesti-

mate or easily summarize the power ofRockefeller’s philanthropy. He gaveaway more than $540 million (roughly$7 billion in today’s dollars) during hislifetime, creating important entities likeSpelman College (which bears his wife’smaiden name), Peking Union MedicalCollege in China and the JohnsHopkins University School of PublicHealth. He is widely recognized as thegreatest lay benefactor of medicine inhistory and—although he personallypreferred homeopathic remedies—wassingularly responsible for the advanceof modern medical science.Rockefeller achieved his early

ambition of making $100,000 manytimes over; only in his desire to see100 did he fall short, though he sur-vived well into his 90s. As an old manhe remained mentally and physicallyfit until almost the very end, focusingon his golf and giving. When he was91 he played six holes in 25 strokes.John D. Rockefeller died on May 23,1937—less than two months shy of his98th birthday. The family wealth wasplaced in a series of complex trusts,the terms of which were kept privateand aroused considerable curiosityand speculation over the years. A littlelight was shone into the family fortunewhen grandson Nelson Rockefellerwas appointed by newly ascendantPresident Gerald Ford to take the roleof vice president. At his confirmationhearings, Rockefeller gave Senatorsand the American public a look at thecomplex web of the family finances,saying, “If you’re thinking of colossaleconomic power, it doesn’t exist. Wehave investments, but not control.”Today, John D. Rockefeller’s

wealth—and the deeply ingrained tra-dition of family giving—continues toimprove and enrich the lives of count-less people. No less than the CarnegieCorp., another great charitable institu-tion begun by a 19th-century industri-alist, lent this praise to the Rockefellerlegacy: “The contributions of theRockefeller family are staggering intheir extraordinary range and in thescope of their contribution tohumankind.”



Charles “Lucky Charlie”Weeghmanserved up a circus-like spectacle for theChicago Cubs’ opening day on April 20,1916. The Cubs had a new home—thenorth side ballpark that would later bedubbed Wrigley Field—and the team’snew owner wanted fans to embrace afresh era for the 40-year-old NationalLeague franchise.A consummate promoter and sales-

man, Weeghman had the team paradethrough the Windy City streets toWeeghman (pronounced Weg-man)Park, built two years prior. The pre-game ceremony included a marchingband, fireworks and even a bear cub andzookeeper from the Lincoln Park Zoo.(The bear, nicknamed “Joa” after Cubsminority owner Jonathan OgdenArmour, would later be housed in a cageoutside the park, on Addison Street.)Weeghman, a self-made millionaire

who started his career as a waiter mak-ing $10 a week, then went on to earnhis fortune as a food-counter chainentrepreneur, had waited years for thissignature moment.Eager to own a baseball team, he

had unsuccessfully tried to purchase theSt. Louis Cardinals in 1911. So heseized on an opportunity three yearslater to join the fledgling FederalLeague, an independent or “outlaw”league that wanted to compete with theestablished American and NationalLeagues of professional baseball.Weeghman founded the Chicago

Federals, one of eight teams in the new

league, and built a stadium for the teamin the Lake View neighborhood, on theformer site of the Chicago LutheranTheological Seminary. Later on, Cubsfans could thus lay claim thatWeeghman Park/Wrigley Field wasbuilt on “hallowed ground.”Construction of the 14,000-seat

Weeghman Park, designed by architectZachary Taylor Davis, began on March14, 1914. The steel and concrete stadiumcost $250,000 ($5.6 million in today’sdollars) and featured a single-storygrandstand, a small section of bleachersin right field, 4,000 yards of soil and four

acres of bluegrass in the outfield. Amodest park by the day’s standards,Weeghman paled in comparison to theChicago White Sox’s Comiskey Park,also designed by Davis, which had beenbuilt in 1910 and dubbed “the baseballpalace of the world.”After the Federals’ first season,

Weeghman held a contest to renamethe team. The fans chose the ChicagoWhales, which according to Cubshistorian Ed Hartig, referenced theteam’s “A Whale of a Club” slogan andthe nearby Waveland Avenue thatwould flood after rains.

SPORTS

A Home for the CubsThe humble beginnings of Wrigley Field

BY GREG RIENZI

Three decades after it was built,Wrigley Field hosted the Tiger-Cubs World Seriesin 1945. Tickets for the final game went on sale at 8 a.m. on Oct.9; lines startedforming at around 6 p.m. the preceding day.

DIXON 1916-2011


32 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

Though a few major league playershad jumped to the upstart FederalLeague, or threatened to jump, the leagueultimately could not sustain interest. Itfolded after just two seasons, in 1915.Weeghman, as part of a Major

League Baseball settlement, was allowedto purchase 90 percent of the financiallytroubled Cubs for the price of $500,000(roughly $11.2 million today).The Cubs had been playing in the

West Side Grounds in an ethnic part oftown, where they enjoyed a heyday.They won a record 116 games in 1906and one year later triumphed in theWorld Series, besting the Detroit Tigers.While the Cubs boasted a winning tra-dition in the old stadium, the park hadits quirks. Sections of the dilapidatedwooden park burst into flames on sever-al occasions—one time forcing playersto come to the aid of fans.Weeghman’s decision to move the

team to the north side of Chicagoangered some supporters, and was a bitof a gamble, according to Hartig. “The

West Side Grounds was closer to thedowntown area and the new park wasin an area not very well developed atthe time,” he says. “Some thought hewas abandoning his fan base or givingup on the West Side.”To bring Weeghman Park up to

major league standards, Weeghmanadded more bleachers and broughtcapacity up to 16,000. Major League

Baseball at the time had 16 teams, eighteach in the American and NationalLeagues. Most of the stars of the dayresided in the American League,including the likes of Babe Ruth (then apitcher with the Boston Red Sox), TyCobb and “Shoeless Joe” Jackson. TheNational League could claim future Hallof Famers Rogers Hornsby, Grover

Alexander and Zack Wheat.The Cubs began play in their new

stadium toward the tail end of the“dead-ball era” (the period—from about1900 through 1919 and Babe Ruth’semergence as a power hitter—when aball was often used for the wholegame). Cy Williams, the team’s left-handed-hitting center fielder, wouldlead the majors in homers that seasonwith a paltry 12—a far cry from today’shome run totals. “The game back thenheavily relied on bunting and stealing.Triples were more common than homeruns,” Hartig says.And players didn’t live or travel in

luxury, he notes. “This was also beforecommercial air travel and teams wentby bus from city to city.”The Cubs won Opening Day in extra

innings, beating the Cincinnati Reds, 7-6,but would go on to finish the 1916 sea-son with an unspectacular 67-86 record.The highlight of the season came on

Sept. 4 when pitching legends ChristyMathewson and Mordecai “Three-Finger” Brown squared off in what wasthe final game of their heralded careers.For the much-hyped contest, the Cubsmade a poster of Brown’s famous righthand, which was missing parts on two

fingers due to a farm machinery acci-dent in his youth. To the disappoint-ment of Cubs fans, Mathewson’s Redscarried the day, 10-8.Peter Alter, an archivist at the

Chicago History Museum, believes thatWeeghman Park would largely beunrecognizable to the modern fan. Thestadium, he said, needed to evolve

“THE GAME BACK THEN HEAVILY RELIED ON BUNTING

AND STEALING. TRIPLES WERE MORE COMMON THAN

HOME RUNS.” —Cubs historian Ed Hartig

Wrigley’s famous hand-operatedscoreboard; a poster ofMordecai “Three-Finger” Brown;slugger Babe Ruth in 1918.


WWW. D I X O N V A LV E . C O M

TakeMe Out to the Ball GameWrigley Field wasn’t the only game in town in 1916—or the country, forthat matter. Some other notable baseball parks of the day, and whatmade them unique:

Comiskey Park: Home to the Chicago White Soxfrom 1910 to 1990, the park was named for itsbuilder, Charles Comiskey. During its 81-year histo-ry, it was the site of 6,000 games, including fourWorld Series (one played by the Chicago Cubs,because there wasn’t enough seating at WrigleyField). The stadium originally sat a record 32,000fans, earning it the nickname “The Baseball Palace

of the World.” Comiskey Park was demolished and turned into a parking lot in 1991,when the White Sox moved across the street to U.S. Cellular Field.

Forbes Field: The Pittsburgh Pirates opened thispark in the Oakland neighborhood of Pittsburgh,Pa., with a game against the Chicago Cubs on June30, 1909—and faced the Cubs again for their lastgame in the stadium on June 28, 1970. Renownedfor a rock hard infield that caused unpredictablebounces (and earned it the nickname “The Houseof Thrills”), Forbes Field was demolished in 1971;today the space it once filled holds the library and dorms of the University of Pittsburgh.

The Polo Grounds: Just north of Central Park in New York City, the site (originallyconstructed in 1876 for polo games) saw a succession of four different stadiums

that culminated in “Polo Grounds IV” in 1911. Thenew stadium proved good luck for the New YorkGiants, who went on to win the National Leaguepennant in 1911, 1912 and 1913. The New YorkYankees also briefly made their home here, from1913-1922, before building Yankee Stadium acrossthe Harlem River. In 1951, Bobby Thomson’sfamous line drive home run—“The Shot Heard

’Round the World”—soared into the lower deck of the left-field stands. The stadi-um was demolished in 1964, but not before the New York Mets played there in1962-63. (The Giants had moved to San Francisco in 1957.)

Fenway Park: Opened in 1912 as home to the Boston Red Sox, Fenway Park is theoldest Major League Baseball stadium still in use. With its location in the denselypopulated neighborhood near Boston’s KenmoreSquare, it blends in so well with surroundingbuildings that first-time visitors sometimes driveright by. Once inside, though, avid fans (known asthe “Red Sox Nation”) can’t miss the famous“Green Monster”—the 37-foot, 2-inch high wall inleft field that’s just 305 to 315 feet from homeplate, making it a popular target for right-handedhitters. Other notables: the lone red seat in right field that marks the longest homerun ever hit (502 feet, by Ted Williams), and the retired numbers of the team’sgreats on the right-field façade.

before it could be appreciated. “It was amodest, second-rate park in its owntown when it opened, but the ballparkstuck around and aged well,” Alter says.Beginning in 1922, the renamed

Cubs Park underwent several renova-tions. The grandstands were movedback 60 feet and wooden bleachers wereadded, increasing the capacity to 20,000.Weeghman went bankrupt in the

early 1920s and was forced to sell con-trolling shares of the team to chewinggum magnate William Wrigley Jr. Thus,in 1926, Cubs Park was renamedWrigley Field. To increase seatingcapacity to 38,396, Wrigley constructeda double-decked grandstand, whilelowering the playing field and remov-ing the bleachers in left field.More renovations occurred in 1937.

Bill Veeck constructed the famous hand-operated scoreboard behind new bleach-ers in center field. (The scoreboardremains a manual affair to this day, andstill has never been hit by a batted ball.)Also that year, Veeck planted 200 Bostonivy plants and 350 Japanese bittersweetplants—curling vines that would spreadto create the signature look for WrigleyField’s outfield wall.Lights for Wrigley Field were origi-

nally to be installed for the 1942 sea-son. However, because of the U.S.involvement in World War II and thebombing of Pearl Harbor, Wrigleydecided to donate the lights to a ship-yard for the war effort instead.Wrigley Field would stay dark at

night for the next 46 years, limiting theCubs to day games only when playingat home. Not until 1988, after baseballofficials refused to allow Wrigley tohost any postseason games withoutlights, was the stadium illuminated.Today, Wrigley Field is the second

oldest major league ballpark, onlybehind Boston’s Fenway Park, whichopened in 1912.Since the 1940s, Wrigley Field has

changed little, save for the addition ofthe lights. What also hasn’t changed isthe Cubs’ notable absence of WorldSeries titles. But each season, loyalCubs fans turn out to support theirteam. At Wrigley Field, it seems, hopesprings eternal.


34 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

INVENTIONS

It is the bottle that launched abillion sips.The Coca-Cola Co.’s contour bottle,

introduced in 1916, isn’t just a softdrink container. It’s an icon. With itsfeminine curves, compact shape andsleek lines, this is a bottle so distinctivethat it is reportedly recognized by95 percent of the world’s population.Nicknamed the “hobble skirt” for itsresemblance to a popular fashion ofthe early 20th century, the bottle wastermed “a masterpiece of scientific,functional planning” by noted industri-al designer Raymond Loewy. “TheCoke bottle,” he said, “is the most per-fectly designed package in the world.”The legendary design has its origins

in a contest that the Coca-Cola Co. heldfor bottle manufacturers in 1915. Atthe time, bottled soft drinks were allpacked in almost identical straight-sided bottles. Shopkeepers cooled thedrinks in tubs of cold water and oftenthe bottles’ paper labels peeled off. “TheCoca-Cola people wanted a design thatcould be recognized even by anyonejust feeling the bottle in their hand,”Earl R. Dean, mold shop supervisor forthe Root Glass Co. in Terre Haute, Ind.,recalled in an oral history that his sonNorman recorded in 1969.A supervisor at Dean’s company

named Alexander Samuelson, who was

part of the initial meeting, offered akernel of an idea when he asked,“What is Coca-Cola made of?”Thinking something in the appearanceof the coca plant or kola nut wouldlend itself to their task, Dean and RootGlass auditor T. Clyde Edwards set offfor the public library to find images ofboth ingredients. They failed. But theydid find a small diagram of a cacaopod, and Dean immediately saw thebulbous, gourd-shaped bean as theperfect inspiration.He sketched a design for the bottle

and showed it to his boss. “I told [him]it could very well be transformed intoa bottle, and at the stem end we couldplace a ring for a cap,” Dean said. In20 hours Dean crafted the mold, thenthey produced a dozen samples, andsent one off. Out of more than a dozendesigns, the contour bottle was deemedthe winner and from the time it hit theshelves the following year, the Coca-Cola contour bottle was a huge success.However, it would be decades before

Dean’s work would be publicly recog-

nized. Samuelson, not Dean, was listedas the inventor on the company’s Nov.16, 1915, design patent. And to this daymany people credit Samuelson withdesigning the iconic packaging that’sstill being used to bottle the soft drinksome 95 years later.Jeff Dean, his grandson, isn’t one of

them. For the last 30 years or so, heand his father have worked to makesure Earl Dean’s contribution to historyis not forgotten. In 1998 he created anonline tribute to his grandfather(http://www.thecontourbottle.com) andjust last year Norman Dean, Earl Dean’sson, published a book about the inven-tion of the contour bottle called TheMan Behind the Bottle (ExLibris, 2010).“My grandfather was a nice guy who

never wanted to make waves, but theshape of that bottle is an important partof how Coca-Cola markets and sellsthat drink,” says Jeff Dean, a purchasingmanager who lives in Santa Clarita,Calif. “If it wasn’t for that bottle, I’mpretty sure Coke would be no moredistinguishable than any other soda.”

Shapely IconWith the debut of Coca-Cola’s unique contourbottle, the company’s fortunes were set

BY MARIA BLACKBURN

DIXON 1916-2011


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36 BOSS � S U MM E R 20 1 1

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