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The Great A&P

Well before Walmart, A&P epitomized “the long-running conflict between corporate retailers and mom-and-pop stores,” writes Patrick Cooke in a Wall Street Journal review of The Great A&P, by Marc Levinson (8/29/11).

A&P’s story actually dates back to “the teeming precincts of lower Manhattan in the early 1800s” when George Francis Gilman opened several tea shops called the Great American Tea Company. He later joined forces and expanded the brand with the Hartford brothers — John and George — and, with the arrival of the transcontinental railroad, re-named the enterprise the Great Atlantic and Pacific Tea Company.

Their business philosophy was positively Waltonesque: “If the company keeps its costs down and prices low, more shoppers would come through its doors, producing more profits than if it kept prices high.” The more stores, “the greater the take.”

A&P did, of course, meet resistance from the many mom-and-pop grocers that “had served as community anchors.” The critics’ persistent charge was that A&P’s prices were too low,” and “more than half the states” tried to change this by taxing chains based on the number of stores they owned.

“A&P responded by replacing small stores with large supermarkets, a shift that only made matters worse for mom and pop.” A&P’s problems began after the Hartford brothers died in the 1950s, and by “the late 1970s it was not uncommon to pass by a suburban A&P boarded up and adrift on a vast ocean of free parking.”

Brandwashed

Pantone color 12-0752 — aka “buttercup” — is the perfect shade of yellow for a best-selling banana, writes Martin Lindstrom, author of Brandwashed, in the Wall Street Journal (9/17/11). Less attractive is Pantone 13-0858, or “vibrant yellow.”

Buttercup, it seems, is “one grade warmer, visually, and seems to imply a riper, fresher fruit.” According to Martin, Heinz works a related trick with its ketchup, which he discovered during a worldwide consumer experiment.

Martin asked his subjects to empty their refrigerators and then rank and replace each item based on its perceived freshness. Heinz ketchup consistently was ranked fresher than “lettuce, tomatoes and onions.” Most consumers couldn’t explain why, but Martin says he knows the reason: “Even though it is made from tomato concentrate, Heinz plays up its ‘tomato-ness’ and its deep red color — the shade of a right-off-the-vine beefsteak tomato.”

Much of this psychology, says Martin, is rooted in “fear,” and the marketer’s understanding that the “illusion of cleanliness or freshness is a particularly powerful persuader.”

It’s why retailers set their refrigerators to make sure the milk sweats and spritz their produce, even though doing so promotes rot. Bubbles are another biggie — in beverages and shampoo alike — signaling freshness and cleanliness, reassuring us that we made the right choice, and ensuring our continued loyalty.

LL Bean

LL Bean’s “business plan has been structured less like a road trip than like the solar system,” writes Wayne Curtis in a Wall Street Journal review of LL Bean: The Man and His Company, by James L. Witherell (8/4/11). Companies that find themselves hawking a popular product tend to follow a haphazard course,” Wayne writes.

“They carom down a road of rapid expansion at high speed, then screech into a service station the moment that product starts to lag in order to pick up new executives and business plans that direct them down another road. And then another. Eventually, all the erratic swerving puts them in a ditch.”

LL Bean, on the other hand, founded by Leon Leonwood Bean in 1912, has taken a more celestial route, with everything revolving “around the immutable sun of the Maine Hunting Shoe.” It is essentially the same boot that Leon himself designed in 1912 and began selling “by way of a three-page mailer sent to holders of Maine Hunting licenses.”

Over time, he added things like a field coat, a chamois shirt and a canvas boat bag to his mail-order inventory. All of these items are still available, and Bean has grown into a billion-dollar company, mainly (pun intended) because “LL Bean has managed for a century to continuously manufacture and sell the one product that other companies have long been searching for: authenticity.”



	NOVEMBER / DECEMBER 2011\| PDF \| Subscribe \| Home


	Cool Books

	The Great A&P Well before Walmart, A&P epitomized “the long-running conflict between corporate retailers and mom-and-pop stores,” writes Patrick Cooke in a Wall Street Journal review of The Great A&P, by Marc Levinson (8/29/11). A&P’s story actually dates back to “the teeming precincts of lower Manhattan in the early 1800s” when George Francis Gilman opened several tea shops called the Great American Tea Company. He later joined forces and expanded the brand with the Hartford brothers — John and George — and, with the arrival of the transcontinental railroad, re-named the enterprise the Great Atlantic and Pacific Tea Company. Their business philosophy was positively Waltonesque: “If the company keeps its costs down and prices low, more shoppers would come through its doors, producing more profits than if it kept prices high.” The more stores, “the greater the take.” A&P did, of course, meet resistance from the many mom-and-pop grocers that “had served as community anchors.” The critics’ persistent charge was that A&P’s prices were too low,” and “more than half the states” tried to change this by taxing chains based on the number of stores they owned. “A&P responded by replacing small stores with large supermarkets, a shift that only made matters worse for mom and pop.” A&P’s problems began after the Hartford brothers died in the 1950s, and by “the late 1970s it was not uncommon to pass by a suburban A&P boarded up and adrift on a vast ocean of free parking.” Brandwashed Pantone color 12-0752 — aka “buttercup” — is the perfect shade of yellow for a best-selling banana, writes Martin Lindstrom, author of Brandwashed, in the Wall Street Journal (9/17/11). Less attractive is Pantone 13-0858, or “vibrant yellow.” Buttercup, it seems, is “one grade warmer, visually, and seems to imply a riper, fresher fruit.” According to Martin, Heinz works a related trick with its ketchup, which he discovered during a worldwide consumer experiment. Martin asked his subjects to empty their refrigerators and then rank and replace each item based on its perceived freshness. Heinz ketchup consistently was ranked fresher than “lettuce, tomatoes and onions.” Most consumers couldn’t explain why, but Martin says he knows the reason: “Even though it is made from tomato concentrate, Heinz plays up its ‘tomato-ness’ and its deep red color — the shade of a right-off-the-vine beefsteak tomato.” Much of this psychology, says Martin, is rooted in “fear,” and the marketer’s understanding that the “illusion of cleanliness or freshness is a particularly powerful persuader.” It’s why retailers set their refrigerators to make sure the milk sweats and spritz their produce, even though doing so promotes rot. Bubbles are another biggie — in beverages and shampoo alike — signaling freshness and cleanliness, reassuring us that we made the right choice, and ensuring our continued loyalty. LL Bean LL Bean’s “business plan has been structured less like a road trip than like the solar system,” writes Wayne Curtis in a Wall Street Journal review of LL Bean: The Man and His Company, by James L. Witherell (8/4/11). Companies that find themselves hawking a popular product tend to follow a haphazard course,” Wayne writes. “They carom down a road of rapid expansion at high speed, then screech into a service station the moment that product starts to lag in order to pick up new executives and business plans that direct them down another road. And then another. Eventually, all the erratic swerving puts them in a ditch.” LL Bean, on the other hand, founded by Leon Leonwood Bean in 1912, has taken a more celestial route, with everything revolving “around the immutable sun of the Maine Hunting Shoe.” It is essentially the same boot that Leon himself designed in 1912 and began selling “by way of a three-page mailer sent to holders of Maine Hunting licenses.” Over time, he added things like a field coat, a chamois shirt and a canvas boat bag to his mail-order inventory. All of these items are still available, and Bean has grown into a billion-dollar company, mainly (pun intended) because “LL Bean has managed for a century to continuously manufacture and sell the one product that other companies have long been searching for: authenticity.”


	NOVEMBER / DECEMBER 2011\| PDF \| Subscribe \| Home