Historic Betty Crocker - More Betty Crocker Scholarship History

Don't you just love it? Empowered young women winning scholarships from Betty Crocker and they didn't even need to be Home Economics majors nor take a home ec class. In fact, seasoned homemakers often struggled with the qualifying test. What I love about the unmatched history of Betty Crocker is how much it still draws people in. I mean, you're here, right? 😉 Betty's people keep sharing their stories and photos with me and I'm still here, preserving and keeping the history alive and relevant. Take note, marketing people, there's magic in this legacy brand, especially because it empowered more than not.

Betty Crocker Radio Artist January 8, 1936

While researching another project I came across this little gem. The woman playing the part of Betty Crocker "Radio Artist" for this event was Majorie Childe Husted - who really was Betty Crocker more than any one else who worked for General Mills back. I wonder if she revealed her true identity as the directory of the Betty Crocker Kitchens? 

To read more about the amazing Husted, read my book Finding Betty Crocker. 

I do believe this Ladies' Auxiliary of the Talmud Torah event was in Minneapolis but it could have been St. Paul. 

Don't forget to pay your membership dues! 

 

Happy Betty Crocker Vintage Valentine

Love letters to Betty! From the Betty Crocker website and from my book Finding Betty Crocker

Betty Crocker came into homes across the United States on the radio. Debuting in 1924 with “The Betty Crocker Cooking School of the Air” and the “Betty Crocker Home Service Program,” Betty kept homemakers company where they needed it the most—at home—with friendly, woman-to-woman chats. 

Considering the personal, “girl talk” vibe of Betty’s programming, it’s no surprise that her attention oftentimes turned to matters of the heart. From interviews with “attractive bachelors” on the type of girls they’d consider marrying to a weekly segment featuring “Recipes for Romance,” the food-love connection became a common theme throughout Betty’s radio run. Finding in Betty a wise and sympathetic friend, listeners often wrote into the Home Services Department at Betty’s parent company to express appreciation for her support and products and to seek relationship advice. 

In honor of Valentine’s Day, I combed the archives for some sweet letters to share with you. Here are a few, all from the early 1930s, guaranteed to make you go “awwww.” 

“Please don’t think I am crazy for writing this: but after listening to your program while making eight pumpkin pies, I came to the conclusion that you did not think it was possible for a woman to be happy and jolly married to a garage man coming in at any hour. Well I wish to inform you that it is possible; because I am married to just such a man. I am 34 years of age. We have three boys as healthy as you can find, besides I look after my sister’s two orphaned children and board my father and brother. Am I happy? Why I’m the happiest woman there is, because laughing and joking is ¾ of my life. Of course I don’t have much time to go out much, but I love to have company in. And when my husband comes home it’s to rest; he said when he locks his garage at night he leaves his troubles there and I don’t bother him with any troubles. I am closing saying life is just what we make it: by not expecting what is impossible.” —Mrs. C. E. McComber, Willimantic, Connecticut 

 “I have enjoyed the ideas of the men concerning their wives. I don’t know just what my husband would say about me. However it should be something nice, for I always try to feed him well. You know the old saying about the way to a man’s heart. I have used your recipes on him ever since I married him, and that is now nine years ago. He is a model husband so I guess they have agreed with him.” —Mrs. Rolla E. Duruyu, Clark, South Dakota 

“I look forward to your cooking school as much as my husband looks forward to the hunting season, a man who lives every day in the year ‘til the season comes. Now my husband and son eat almost everything I prepare. In my last sack of Gold Medal Flour there was a recipe for cinnamon coffee cake and I made it for dinner and I’ll tell you it was delicious. When I make something good, my husband says, ‘I bet Betty Crocker told you how to make that.’” —Mrs. Lillean Dennick, Ruffsdale, Pennsylvania 

 “I always listen to your broadcasts whenever I can and I’ve been so very interested to hear about those contended husbands. My husband thinks I am a wonderful cook and every time he gets to raving about it, I tell, ‘Betty Crocker,’ ought to hear him, for he is the most contented husband I ever heard about. We have been married 45 years last September and we are more in love with each other all the time.” —Mrs. J.W. Rich, Houston, Texas

The "New" Betty Crocker Method of Making Cake: "400 Years in 4 Minutes" ...

I was lucky enough to interview some of the women featured in this "educcational film." It was kind of funny to them to "act like they were doing their jobs." I'm grateful that I got to conduct oral history interviews with so many wonderful Crockettes. They are, of course, not with us anymore. I'm a big advocate for honoring seniors and recording their stories! Have you asked your grandparents, parents or neighbors about what their life was like back in the day? Have you recorded their stories?

Subversive history in the Betty Crocker Kitchens

I just discovered an article I was interviewed for about the Crockettes - one of my favorite Betty Crocker-related topics. As many of you know, I conducted oral histories with 40 or so former Crockettes. I'm guessing they have all passed away now, which makes it even more important that preserved their stories. I added some photos to Anne Ewbank's article, because I have so many after researching Betty all these years, writing a book and making a documentary film about her. I hope you enjoy!

The Unsung Women of the Betty Crocker Test Kitchens 

by Anne Ewbank for Atlast Obscura - Gastro Obscura 

IT STARTED WITH A PINCUSHION and a puzzle. In 1921, Washburn Crosby, the makers of Gold Medal flour, held a national contest. If customers completed a jigsaw puzzle and sent it in, they would be mailed a prize: a pincushion shaped like a flour sack.

                        

The Minnesota-based company was soon deluged in completed puzzles, along with something they didn’t expect: hundreds of letters from home cooks, asking for kitchen advice. The company took on the challenge gamely, responding to all the inquiries. According to Susan Marks, the author of Finding Betty Crocker: The Secret Life of America’s First Lady of Food, “The company felt like they should have a name attached when someone would respond back to them. And they didn’t think it should be a man. They thought that it should be a woman.”

So they invented a person. For her first name, Betty. “It was really nice and sweet, and everybody knew a Betty,” says Marks. Crocker was the last name of a well-liked company executive. The advertising department sought out female employees to respond to the letters, and eventually staffed an entire department with women who knew their way around a kitchen. “It all grew rather quickly from there,” Marks says.

That's Majorie Child Husted, head of the Betty Crocker Department in the back in the dark dress in an overly staged photo of the Home Service Department that later became the Betty Crocker Kitchens. 

Ever since, the image of a brunette white woman has stared out of advertisements, food packaging, and the pages of cookbooks. She was fictional, a marketing tool used to sell Gold Medal Flour, Bisquick, and other American staples. But at a time when women were discouraged from working outside the home, the real women behind the dozens of cookbooks, hundreds of advertisements, and thousands of letters emblazoned with the name “Betty Crocker” turned an illustration and a name into a corporate powerhouse. Despite prevalent gender discrimination, many remembered their time as “Crockettes” with immense fondness.

In 2002, Barbara Jo Davis sat down with Linda Cameron, an interviewer for the Minnesota Historical Society. Davis is an accomplished businesswoman, the president and owner of a barbecue sauce company and the first president of the Coalition for Black Development in Home Economics.

As a child, though, Davis didn’t want to grow up to be a businesswoman. “Actually, when I was about 12, I decided I wanted to be Betty Crocker,” Davis told Cameron. By the time Davis first heard of Betty Crocker, the brand had decades of experience in advertising their near-scientific but homey approach to food.

In the early 1920s, Washburn Crosby sent women to teach community cooking classes. This was their way of piggybacking off the home-economics movement. Since the 1800s, the field of “domestic science” aimed to standardize and apply scientific principles to how people worked in the home, especially cooking. In the first half of the 1900s, many women studied home economics at universities, which often required credits in chemistry, biology, dietetics, and mathematics, opening up new fields to female workers.

To capitalize on this interest in modern cooking, Washburn Crosby bought a failing radio station in 1924. The Betty Crocker Cooking School of the Air brought the dulcet tones of actresses playing Betty Crocker to millions of Americans. By the time Washburn Crosby merged with other flour companies to become General Mills, she was a bona-fide phenomenon, receiving more mail than a Hollywood starlet every week. The Betty Crocker formula—genuinely helpful kitchen advice, a familiar but slightly mysterious hostess, and lots of product placement—proved to be a powerful combination.

The secret to the success of Betty Crocker, says Marks, was the talent in the kitchen. And while hundreds of women worked under the Betty Crocker name, one in particular shaped the character for decades. Marjorie Child Husted, hired at Washburn Crosby in 1924, became head of the Home Service Department in 1927. She often scripted the Betty Crocker radio show herself, and showed a keen understanding of what her listeners wanted: fellowship with both the voice on the air and with other listeners. The early 1900s were a tumultuous time, with technology developing at a rapid place and millions of people living far away from their families. Having a calm, authoritative voice direct you on how to cook a roast or pinch a pie crust must have been a relief, even if that voice also constantly encouraged you to buy Gold Medal Flour.

Radio shows and responses to personal letters weren’t enough Betty for the public. General Mills began releasing recipe pamphlets under her name. There was 1933’s Betty Crocker’s $25,000 Recipe Set Featuring Recipes From World Famous Chefs For Foods That Enchant Men and Betty Crocker’s 101 Delicious Bisquick Creations As Made And Served by Well-Known Gracious Hostesses; Famous Chefs, Distinguished Epicures and Smart Luminaries of Movieland. These booklets often featured fast dinners, innovative treats for shock and awe at the church potluck, and culinary knowledge, with most, if not all recipes containing at least one General Mills product for homemakers to buy.

To sell the maximum amount of flour, General Mills needed recipes, and lots of them. In Husted’s opinion, such recipes had to be nearly perfect in order to maintain Betty Crocker’s aura of omniscient culinary prowess. So, Marks says, “they developed what they call triple-testing, which sounds like three tests, but it’s three series of tests.” First, staff thought up a recipe, adjusting measurements and baking times over and over. Then, the recipes were sent to hired home cooks in the Minneapolis area, who tried the recipe and took copious notes. Those notes went back to company headquarters, where kitchen staff under Husted incorporated the suggestions into the final product. If a recipe successfully made it through this testing gauntlet, then it was good to go. If not, it was filed away into a massive library, perhaps to be unearthed as inspiration someday.

Working at the Home Services Department, soon to be called the Betty Crocker Kitchens, was prestigious. “You needed a degree in home economics,” says Marks. Only the best could work out of the test kitchens at the downtown headquarters. Advertisements even featured headshots of the employees, along with their degrees and accomplishments.

“These women that I interviewed, and they’ve all passed away now because it was so long ago, they said working for the Betty Crocker Kitchens was the most glamorous job you could get if you were in home economics,” says Marks.

Intrigued by the professional air that General Mills encouraged, visitors to Minneapolis often wanted to see the Crockettes at work. It was reminiscent of how visitors to Silicon Valley today haunt the outskirts of the Facebook and Apple campuses. But unlike secretive tech companies, General Mills threw open their doors and even provided a phone number for tour requests. Over the decades, foreign royalty and American presidents came to pay their respects. Awed fans came in asking if Betty was at work that day. Often, wrote Marks in her book, receptionists kept tissues on hand for the inevitable tears when visitors were told that she didn’t actually exist.

It didn't get any better than Majorie Child Husted.

                  

In a way, though, she did exist. Husted ushered Betty Crocker through the stock market crash of 1929, the Great Depression, and World War II. Despite the enormous dip in American incomes in the 1930s and the rationing of the 1940s, Betty Crocker helped keep General Mills flourishing. Husted approached her work with pride and upheld Betty Crocker as a resource and a friend to women working hard for their families with little support or recognition. “Women needed a champion,” she told a magazine in 1948. “They needed someone to remind them that they had value.”

For the women working in the Betty Crocker Kitchens, the role provided not only a salary but glamor and a creative work life. The number of curious visitors to the kitchens kept growing, and when General Mills moved its headquarters to the suburbs in 1958, they took special care to turn the Betty Crocker Kitchens into a destination, a fantasy of themed cooking spaces. Over the years, there was the Arizona Desert Kitchen, the Cape Cod Kitchen, the Chinatown Kitchen, and the Hawaiian Kitchen. To be fair, these were generally just for show. Some of the kitchens, though, were the sites of real, grueling work.

Ralcie Ceass, also interviewed by Cameron in 2002, started out her career as a Kitchens tour guide in 1966. Ceass, though, had a home-economics degree, and soon rose to the role of supervisor, overseeing the Kamera Kitchen. There, products and recipes were photographed and filmed for Betty Crocker cookbooks and commercials. For a single commercial, she told Cameron, her team would bake seven to eight cases of cake mix: 84 to 96 mixes, total.

“They were required to do so much,” says Marks. “So it wasn’t just cooking and baking and recipe testing and outreach with women that would come into the kitchens. They were also part of the marketing and part of the advertising.”

But despite the role Husted and other women played in building Betty Crocker into a major brand, they were often overlooked and under-appreciated by the mostly male executives.

“They had such an important role, and they were really running the show,” Marks says. “[Still] in many ways, it was considered women’s work and not all that important to the company.”

Davis certainly thought that was the case. She started at Betty Crocker in 1968 as one of the home economists, then within a few years became a supervisor, then a manager. “We were expected to, you know, make birthday cakes for the management and all of that kind of thing,” she recalled. “We were just thought of as the girls in the kitchens and no one respected us as professionals who had degrees and who knew what we were doing.”

She particularly recalled one incident. According to her, General Mills executives wanted to piggyback off the successful 1970’s partnership between Bundt and Pillsbury, and pushed through the Ring Cake Supreme mix without the usual careful testing. If you followed the directions to the letter, the cake came out perfect, “but the majority of consumers out there could not duplicate it. People were mailing us their cakes; they were that bad,” Davis said, calling the product release “a disaster.”

It was something of a comeuppance for those who didn’t trust Crockette input, Davis believed. “It had the R&D people scrambling. We, in the kitchens, said, ‘This cake should not be on the market,’ but, you know, we were just ‘the girls in the kitchen.’”

Nevertheless, Davis excelled in the Betty Crocker Kitchens. One of her achievements was helping to develop Hamburger Helper, the one-pot stovetop casserole introduced to the Betty Crocker line-up in 1971. After working there for decades, she considered herself a historian and mentor to younger staff. “I think what I loved most about that part of the job as a supervisor and, then, as a manager was the personnel development side, watching these young home economists develop and learning their jobs,” she said.

By the 1980s, the star of the Betty Crocker Kitchens and Betty Crocker herself had faded somewhat. Most women no longer yearned to be homemakers (if they ever truly did) and more opportunities than ever were available outside the home. The Kitchens closed to public tours in 1985, leaving a wave of sadness in its wake. “Reports from the few people I know who visited the seven kitchens leave me yearning,” says a regretful cook in Marks’s book. “They speak of the Hawaiian room, the Southwestern room, of multiple microwave ovens and of clever magnetic strips for holding recipes at eye level. They recall glamorous women measuring everything with precision, cooking colorful, imaginative meals from scratch.”

Marks takes a more equivocal stance towards the Betty Crocker mystique. “The women who worked there were almost subversive in the way that they elevated this character and with it, this idea of ‘You can do it, and Betty can help you,’” she says, quoting the slogan used by Betty Crocker for decades. “You can argue, too, that it kept women down, because it was in such a stereotypical role. There’s merit to that.”

Yet home economist Ruby Peterson, who worked at the Kitchens in the 1950s, and who Marks remembers with fondness, would likely disagree. “She said that every person you talk to will say the same thing, that the best experience in the world was working at Betty Crocker Kitchens,” Marks recalls.

“Although, did they get paid enough?” Marks adds with a laugh [Marks' note: I would add the word "mirthless" in front of "laugh"]. “Probably not.”

Repost: The dark and light side of telling Betty Crocker's story UPDATED

Update: Betty Crocker - in particular the Betty Crocker Kitchens - have been on my mind lately because of some fictional work I'm writing based on my experiences conducting oral history interviews with former "Crockettes" - the women who worked at "the Kitchens" in the 1940s - 1960s. They had a lot of great stories and dang it, not a one made it into my book. But that doesn't mean they won't wind up in something new...

In 2021 Betty Crocker celebrates her 100th year. Such great, deep history that no other advertising character can match. 

Lately I've been reflecting a lot on my journey with Betty Crocker. People ask me all the time how I got interested in writing a book and making a documentary film about Betty Crocker. 

My book on Betty first published in hardcover by Simon & Schuster.

The short answer is that no one had done it yet. It is and was a shockingly good story, far too good to pass up. And how often does that happen in a person's life? It truly felt like Betty chose me. 

From my documentary film on Betty.

But the long answer is much more complicated.

I was a tour guide for the Minnesota Historical Society and about to start a graduate school program in American Studies and Film Studies at the University of Minnesota. On my tours people would get downright giddy when I pointed to the Washburn A Mill ruins (which soon after became the Mill City Museum) and explained that it was Betty Crocker's birthplace. People had so many questions about Betty and I had questions too. Like, why was everyone so giddy about Betty? And didn't they know she wasn't real? 

It happened so often that I decided to read the book on Betty Crocker's history because clearly, I wasn't getting something so significantly shared by tourists. I quickly discovered that there was no book on Betty. So I tried to find the documentary film. There wasn't one of those either. Curiouser and curiouser. 

I was blown away that this rich history that had been ignored by authors, historians, documentary filmmakers, etc. However, it did make sense to me that many people simply would not be able to get past the corporate narrative and see the compelling story underneath. 

So, I naively set out to make a film and write a book about Betty Crocker. I hadn't written a book nor made a documentary film, but at that point I had read so many poorly written books (and horribly edited ones) and seen so many cheesy, boring documentary films that I knew I could as least do better than most. And I folded my research into my graduate work, so I was getting constant feedback about the academic merits of my work. 

The journey was long and arduous and I discovered why no one had written a book nor made a film on Betty. The key was access. At the time, the General Mills archivist was cagey and suspicious of anyone outside of the company writing about Betty. She was very concerned about tarnishing the Betty brand and didn't want me poking around. But after a few requests and the knowledge I shared through Betty Crocker radio broadcasts I found in an academic library, she did allow me to come into the archives and research the letters sent to Betty - for which I am still grateful. 

I had to get creative and get serious with my research. Beyond reading history books (secondary research), I conducted oral history interviews (primary research) with women who lived through the height of Betty Crocker's popularity in the 1940s and 1950s. I put the word out that I was looking to interview anyone who worked at the Betty Crocker Kitchens - especially under the direction of Marjorie Child Husted. I wrote an article for the Hennepin County History Museum (Minneapolis) and wrote an op-ed piece to solicit Betty stories. 

Additionally, I researched in special collections at libraries, historical societies, and even church archives. I eventually tapped into a network of retired home economists from the Betty Crocker Kitchens aka "The Crockettes." I conducted oral history interviews with many over the phone and I traveled to meet face to face with some of them. 

I loved interviewing Crockettes and they often shared their personal photos with me from working in the Betty Crocker Kitchens.

Eventually, the General Mills archivist retired and the new archivist, Katie Dishman embraced me and my storytelling, allowed me access to everything Betty related in the archives. She even put me work as a contractor researcher on the history of the Chex brand. 

Now there's a common misconception about corporate archives that they save everything. They do not. I'm not sure how this rumor started but the General Mills archives did not tell the full picture of Betty's history, so I wound up having to fill in the gaps.

I purchased a lot of Betty Crocker ephemeral items like cookbooks, ads, letters, radio show scripts, tv scripts, photos, radio recording, recipe booklets, menus from the Betty Crocker short-lived restaurant, the Betty Crocker magazine, etc. from eBay and antique dealers. It really was amazing what I could find to help fill out the story. While I kept a lot of rare gems, much of it I donated to the General Mills archives in thanks for letting me in. If I hadn’t, I could have easily opened up my own Betty Crocker museum.

But there's a dark side to all this. 

I rarely talk about it because "all's well that ends well" and for a historian, I ironically don't like to dwell in the past. But last week when I was talking with a friend we joked about how if it weren't for Betty Crocker, we wouldn't even know each other. 

She read my book, blogged about it, we started talking and soon we were good friends. I made an off-handed comment about how I’m glad that I didn't listen to all the people who were against me writing the Betty book and making the film. She wasn't remotely surprised but encouraged me to not be shy about telling that side of the story. She's a successful public figure who knows a thing or two about the naysayers and the damage they do. 

We wound up talking about how friends, acquaintances, coworkers, etc. said some truly detrimental and discouraging things to me in an attempt to get me to give up on my hopes and dreams. Or they just wanted to put me in my place and make me feel bad because it would make them feel better about themselves. (People like that are truly the worst and will always be chasing that fix.) 

Weirdly, until she encouraged me to talk about it, I had almost completely forgot about all those trash conversations and the damage people tried to inflict on me. When memories like this surface it’s a reminder to how ugly people can be when you're an artist starting out and how threatened people are by anyone who is doing something special with their lives. 

In the beginning of my Betty journey I was out of my comfort zone every single day, just trying to tell a story that hadn't been told before. I was vocal, transparent, vulnerable and excited. 

I thought my friends and acquaintances would be excited and happy for me because I had found my thing. And I always shared in their excitement over their hopes and dreams. And of course, some were lovely and wonderfully supportive every step of the way and I'm deeply grateful to them.

Although if I'm being honest, many did not become outwardly supportive until the actual book was published, I had a book launch, was making national tv appearances and went on a book tour. 

I had a very memorable stop on my book tour to Toronto. But I don't remember taking this picture at all. Ha! 

But back to what people don't usually talk about. 

A lot of people did not support me. In fact, they wanted to take me and my enthusiasm out. They told me in direct and indirect ways that there was no way I could write a book, get it published nor make a film. I didn't have enough experience. General Mills wouldn't allow it. General Mills would sue me. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I was in over my head. I was full of sh*t. I wasn't an established author, so I wouldn't be able to find an agent. I would have to team up with a historian to write the book because I didn't know enough on my own. It went on and on. 

A few people even rolled their eyes and laughed in my face saying, "Why would you want to write a book on Betty Crocker?” and “I would never want to see that movie.” As I’m writing this I keep wondering, was it that really that bad? Am I exaggerating? But sadly, I think I’m underselling it. Ugh, people can be so awful and hurtful and even get a thrill from their cruelty.

Over time, I welcomed the challenge. I liked that I had this giant project outside of my everyday work and I enjoyed talking about. (This is laughable to me because now I rarely talk about my writing and doc filmmaking until a project is done. I’m simply not the same person.) And if people wanted to argue with me about it, I thought, "Fine. Let's do this." What was it that was so ridiculous about me and Betty Crocker? 

It usually came in the form of someone claiming to be "worried about me." They would grill me about how I planned on making it all happen. And of course they would focus in on any part of my plan that was out of my control. (Like getting an agent, publisher, funding for the film). It made them feel fantastic that there were elements of fate to my plan that they could throw back in my face as proof that none of it would work out. When I reminded them that all artists need to be open to fate, have faith and take risks, it made their blood boil. 

Looking back, it's astounding that people would get so worked up over me writing and book and making a documentary film about Betty Crocker, (where were my giddy people?) but I think it says more about how they underestimated me from the start and found my ambitions a threat to them. 

And where are those people today? Not a single one of them is in my life. They just faded away. (With the exception of a few friends and family members who will always have a “bee in their bonnet” about me and Betty. Ha! Big babies.) And no one ever apologized to me nor admitted I was right all along. I guess that only happens in the movies. 

But seriously, what would have happened if I had listened to those people? What if I shrunk to fit their idea of who I was or dulled my shine to make them feel brighter? What if I hadn't taken the risks? Because after all, there was no guarantee that I would get published or finish the film. What if I didn't even start because it was so difficult to be out of my comfort zone? What if I didn't dare to dream because there wasn't a risk-free path to follow? 

I learned to not listen to anyone. (And I cannot emphasize enough how mad this made people - especially Baby Boomer men). I stopped listening because it became crystal clear to me that none of them knew what they were talking about. It was obvious just by looking at their low-risk lives. Plus, I'm just made of tougher stuff than them. There was no way I was going to quit because someone rolled their eyes at me. Or told me I was going to get screwed over by my publisher, if I ever got one. Or that my book idea was so niche that only a few people would ever read it. Were any of these people experts in indie documentary filmmaking, publishing or marketing? No, again, they knew nothing other than how to spot a risk. 

Interestingly, when I told people I got a book deal the very first question out of their mouth was always, "Who is the publisher?" And I proudly told them Simon & Schuster and they were always stunned silent. They wanted to pick that apart too, tell me they never heard of that publisher, but of course everyone knows about S&S. So I left them out of moves. 

So, in the end, I won. It took me seven years but I wrote the book, made the film, went on a book tour and launched my creative career. I made more films, wrote more books and screenplays. I won awards, fellowships, screened my films internationally, spoke to crowds of 1000s of people, screened one of my films at the Smithsonian American Art Museum (very few people can ever say that). I sold and optioned screenplays and had meetings with some of Hollywood's elite about adapting my work. All of which came with a whole new set of much bigger problems and issues than people telling me to give up on Betty Crocker.

But I think this all these negative memories resurfaced for a reason. Someone or perhaps several people need to hear this and hopefully it will help. I got treated like a punching bag because I dared to dream big and be open about it. But I also got very used to it and thought it came with the territory. But now I see that I could have done more to stop the verbal and emotion abuse that comes with chasing your dreams. Bottom line: People should not have treated me that way. And you shouldn't allow people to treat you this way. I learned the hard way so you don't have to.

Your success can feel like an affront to others because they choose to feel small and act impulsively. Too bad for them and thank God you aren't them. It's a backhanded compliment to you, so just walk away. Don't engage. Over time, you'll stop attracting people like that in your life. And you will learn more about setting boundaries and being selective about what you share. 

Constant criticism is often a dream crusher. And if you read this whole post and think, "Wow. I have no idea what this lady is talking about" then you are likely blind to the fact that you are crushing other people's dreams. So now that you know here's your tough love moment: Choose to be a better person. Even if you feel threatened by someone else's dream or you are so jaded that you only see failure or feel the need to control things. Just smile and say, "Good for you! I'll support you every step of the way." 

Let's all try being supportive to anyone who is doing something positive, getting out of their comfort zone - especially in the arts. Writing is tough. Documentary filmmaking is even tougher. People everywhere need healing, not for you to cause them more pain. 

Obviously, there's a lot more to my journey. I've oversimplified quite a bit and I left out a lot. But if you are the person I unearthed this for, I wish you nothing but light on your journey and feel free to reach out and tell your story. Please don't give up. Write your dream on a post-it note, look at it each day and honor your path. 

Mine said: "I'm so happy that I’m the first person to write a book and make a documentary film about Betty Crocker!" I wrote that post-it seven years before my dream was realized. And guess what? I'm still the first and only person to do these things. Apparently, I'm a tough act to follow. And I know in my heart that you are too.

Betty Crocker and "Omelette" (Season 1 Episode 1) | Julia | HBO Max

Fans of Betty Crocker are loving Julia on HBO Max. If you haven't watched it yet, you really need to. If you don't have HBO Max, get it. 

One of the things I love about Julia is that it nails what success feels like - in particular, it doesn't feel much like success at all - or at least what you thought it should feel like. The show is a  mastery of storytelling in the "in between."

And since I spent a lot of my career working for PBS and publishing books, a lot of it Julia's story rings true for me.

The Betty Crocker Documentary Film by Susan Marks

2023 UPDATE! Be it touch if you want a link to my Betty Crocker documentary and I'm happy to send it your way. 

It's hard to believe that Betty Crocker is almost 100 years old! 

When I started writing a a book on Betty Crocker, I knew the book, Finding Betty Crocker: The Secret Life of America's First Lady of Food, could never do the justice to the rich audio and visual side of Betty. So I made my first documentary film, The Betty Mystique - that explores why the nation was buy what Betty Crocker was selling.

Betty Crocker history

New York Times article on General Mills 150 anniversary with some nice little tidbits of Betty Crocker's history. Especially the last line!

General Mills 150/ Betty Crocker on CBS Sunday Morning

Check out this CBS Sunday Morning story on General Mills turning 150.

Nice little tribute to Betty Crocker. (Tom only got one fact wrong - guess they should have interviewed me again if they wanted accuracy about Betty's history!)

Vintage Betty Crocker is cooler than you know!

In our archival research we unearthed a letter from the Betty Crocker radio show, "Magazine of the Air" inviting Frances Glessner Lee to be a guest on the show. (1949) Considering I've made documentary films about both Betty Crocker and Frances Glessner Lee, my mind is forever blown.

For the record, there was a carbon copy of the reply letter and Frances politely declined.

Oh Betty! Chiffon Cake at it's worst.

 How can something so wrong probably taste so right? Really, I think Betty's art directors were just dialing it that day. Anyway, more importantly, Betty is in YELLOW! Very rare to see Betty in anything other than red and white. And like always, she has the look of a First Lady. This looks like a post WWII ad to me. Maybe there is a little Eleanor Roosevelt in this Betty portrait? Decide for yourself.

The Good, the Bad, and the Book Tour

(I've had a few requests for this essay I wrote, so I'm re-posting)

The Good, the Bad, and, the Book Tour
by Susan Marks

After they recovered from the shock of learning that I actually wrote a book, the first question out of people’s mouths was, “Are you going on a book tour?”

I think they asked because a book could be just a book, but a book tour suggests something a bit more grandiose – maybe even glamorous. So, I think I sent everyone reeling again when I answered, “Yes.”

Now, I know from glamorous and my book tour was bound to be anything but. I had no illusions of a Carrie Bradshaw-type book launch followed by the kind of celebrity author tour that involves violating fire safety codes with scores of people crammed into bookstores and auditoriums. No, I knew my tour would be small, humble, ever-controversial and mostly tiring. Still, if people wanted to believe I was destined for something more brilliant, I wasn’t about to stop them and besides, I couldn’t wait to go. What first-time author doesn’t dream of her book tour, even if she knows better?

The first stop on my 5-city tour was actually my hometown of Minneapolis, Minnesota – so that worked out well. Prior to the release of my book, I made the rounds with a month’s worth of radio, magazine, newspaper and television interviews.

Besides the standard questions about Betty’s portraits, recipes and cake mixes and true identity, I heard everything from how I could be Betty’s daughter to jokes about Betty’s illicit affair with the Gorton’s Fisherman and Kingsford Charcoal man. The whole buildup to the main event and jam-packed publicity schedule was an intoxicating cocktail of high-octane adrenaline, nerves, giddy excitement and shameless vanity. The end result was a massive Betty induced hangover that took me about me about 8 months to shake.

With equal parts fear and excitement, I braced myself for the book launch at the Mill City Museum along the Mississippi River in downtown Minneapolis. I was to stand in front of a live crowd, answer tough questions about how Betty both defined and marginalized women while I likely groped around in search of something clever, entertaining and historically accurate to say.

To my surprise the crowd swelled to hundreds of overwhelmingly supportive people – some of whom I didn’t even know. They watched a rough-cut of my documentary film, The Betty Mystique, laughed in the right places, smiled at me afterwards and asked intelligent questions. In fact, my 5-year-old nephew was so moved by the Spirit of Betty that he started witnessing to anyone who would listen that Betty Crocker came upon her great cake baking skills by praying to the good Lord above.


A television crew from CBS Sunday Morning covered the book launch, helping to heighten the excitement, as all the copies of my book sold out, and three hours magically sped by in a matter of seconds. More importantly, a foreign feeling swept over me as if I had done something right – really right.

It retrospect, I should have seen it coming. The rest of a tour didn’t feel quite as “right” but it wasn’t without its moments.

New York, LA, Boston, Miami, and Seattle wouldn’t have me – but the Midwest and Canada couldn’t wait to get their Betty Crocker on, so I was off with the requisite press and signing events. For the most part, I’m not sure what I said or what I wore, but no one kicked me off their show for dressing indecently nor did I get banned from any bookstores for carrying on inappropriately. However, I did disappoint some people – and not just your garden-variety disappointment. The fact that I didn’t have a recipe to prepare, my hair was in a ponytail, I was not Betty Crocker, and my book cost $23 really riled a few people.

The disappointment portion of my tour began upon arriving at a television station where a producer “greeted” me with a panicked-stricken expression, looking all around me, asking where my equipment was. Turns out, he thought I was appearing on the cooking segment of this morning talk show and that I would be preparing something from a Betty Crocker cookbook. The very thought of me cooking LIVE on TV would have every single person I know laugh out loud. When I explained that I was just an author of a history book about Betty Crocker, he replied stiffly that he “was given different information.” Now, the little misunderstanding was on his end because my publicists at Simon and Schuster were pros, but I was too polite to tell him so.

I shrugged it off thinking the little misunderstanding would end with a chuckle and I would head for the green room to sweat it out, but no. My lack of cooking equipment prompted phone calls, conversations in hushed tones, and worried expressions directed my way. Truthfully, it wasn’t like I was dying to get on this show. If they decided to boot me, I would have chalked it up to inevitable glitch in their early morning television system and headed out for coffee and maybe a muffin. But finally the producer approached me with a sigh and told me they could still fit me in. The anchor fell silent, shook his head and sighed too.

I was late to the next TV station, but they still greeted me with a, “Betty Crocker’s in the house!” And nobody sighed, shook their heads nor asked me to cook anything. I could have stayed there all day, except people all over town were waiting to get a piece of me.


Oddly, it was my hair that was so objectionable it prompted the next grand wave of disappointment. It seems that the effects of the heat and humidity were just too compelling to pass up. A woman/troll greeted me at a cool little independent bookstore and started in on how she barely recognized me because my hair looked nothing like it did in my author photo. And then Haggletooth, (I’m pretty sure that was her name) went on to say that she liked my hair a lot better when I wasn’t wearing a ponytail and seemed to want some sort of explanation. I tried to plead my case saying that humidity just has its way with me. Haggletooth actually winced on my behalf and cut the conversation short.

I was mortified! Not for me, but for her. Sashaying up to an author and announcing that her hair isn’t as lovely as I think it should be is among the many things I would never do. In fact, I was raised to NEVER tell anyone that their hair looks bad. No matter what. And I have been tested on this! For ten years, I have been friends with a certain someone and I have never once told her that her hairdo makes her look like she’s playing the part of a witch in a community theater production. Perhaps truthfulness in friendship should trump good manners, but that’s a can of wicked witch hair I just don’t want to open.

And for my next act of disappointment, I caused a minor scene in a chain bookstore. Before the event started a patron, I’ll call her Crazy, excitedly hurried into bookstore. Crazy showed up early, hoping to get a good seat to hear Betty Crocker give a little talk. But when she saw my photo on the event poster, she downward spiraled. Who the hell was I? She wanted to know. I certainly wasn’t the Betty Crocker she had gotten to know over the years. Booksellers rushed to her aid as other patrons started looking a bit spooked. Crazy was so furious that she wanted only to talk to a manager, in a voice that was way too loud for a bookstore. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make Betty magically appear, nor could he convince her to stick around a learn more about Betty’s true identity. I made a joke to the small crowd that I didn’t want to be around when she found out the truth about Aunt Jemima and Capt. Crunch, but people just smiled courteously, and looked embarrassed for me. Admittedly, it wasn’t the best way to begin the event, but honestly is it my fault that people don’t question advertising until it’s too late and/or forget to take their medication? There was no reason to be embarrassed for me. I was fine. And yet, I couldn’t fight the feeling that a pattern was emerging.

But in all fairness, some of people were amazing. At various events they came out in their red hats and purple dresses, some sported pins from the Betty Crocker Search For Homemaker of Tomorrow Scholarship program, some brought their well-worn copies of their kitchen bible, Betty’s Big Red cookbook and other people just smiled and smiled at everything I said. Bookstore managers graciously welcomed me and other folks lined up just to talk and several even thanked me for writing the book. And some radio and television personalities and newspaper reporters could not have been more interesting, smart and fun. Salt of the earth – these people.

Meanwhile almost everyone asked me when I was scheduled to make an appearance on the Today Show. Oh I wish I could have announced that I was jetting off to NYC to spending the morning at Studio 1A in Rockefeller Center, but the invitation never came. (For the record, Oprah, Letterman and Ellen didn’t invite me either – at least not yet!) But CBS Sunday Morning (one of the best shows on television) did a segment on the book and I couldn’t have been more thrilled. Most of the people I talked to know and love the show, but there are many who never heard of it, or they made some vague connection, mumbling something like “Isn’t there some Charles guy on that show…no wait, there was a Charles guy and then another Charles guy took his place…” I stopped telling people about it after awhile because the disappointing tables were starting to turn.

But these were little things. I chalked it up to life on the road. Life in the trenches. Life of an author. The good, the bad, the book tour. And I soon gained a better understanding of whole writer/booze connection.

But all the wine in the world couldn’t have helped me with my most appalling book-signing event. It took place the weekend after Thanksgiving in an upscale cooking store. From the moment I walked in, I knew it wouldn’t end well. I now wish I would have run in the other direction when I saw that the only people in the store were the employees – on the busiest retail weekend of the year. Even though I was more than humbled, I felt worse for the store’s owner. When I suggested that we cancel the event she flew into a fit, “What? Do you only do events where people are lining up outside the door!?” While flustered, I rallied enough to reply, “Yes and no – I’ve had as few as 7 show up and as many as 450 show. I’ve just never actually done an event where no one has shown up.” But as luck would have it, two people arrived at that moment, got their own private Betty presentation, asked where the bathroom was, and left without buying a thing.

To fill the rest of the time, an aging staff member, with questionable intentions, showed her support by bestowing me with unsolicited advice on how I should market my book, distribute my documentary film and manage my career. (Side note: This woman didn’t have a single original idea in her head. I was praying that she would get a customer and leave me alone, but it never happened). The funny thing about free advice and me is that I know the value of it and would sooner give up chocolate before I would take it or for that matter, give it. Yet, the frequency of unsolicited advice flying my way makes me convinced that there’s just something so floundering about my nature that I appear to have stumbled off the path of common sense, just waiting for a firm, guiding hand to set me right again. As I stood there in the empty store with Miss Pushy Talksalot babbling on and on, I grew nostalgic for Haggletooth and Crazy. Needless to say, I learned a valuable lesson right there in the cooking store: Empty stores are empty for a reason. (Update: that store closed down.)

Other signing events are slower to reveal their true colors. One of my most memorable events involved a speaking engagement for the American Association of Family Consumer Sciences (Formerly known as Home Ec). I sat at a table near the silent auctions and tried to pinpoint if I had ever felt quite so awkward and out of place.

For a long time no one said anything to me, except those people who asked me if my books are a part of the silent auction. And when I said no, you guessed it, they looked genuinely disappointed in me.

Someone wandered over and asked me where the decaf was. I pointed to the nearby orange pot. (It’s been said before, but doesn't everyone know by now that decaf is served in the orange pot?) But other than that, things were slow. I think I even saw a lone tumbleweed blow by my table. I was starting to feel like a bit of a party crasher so I made a bold move to engage people in conversation. "Hi" I said to a lady near my table, to which she replied, "What did you just say to me?" "Oh, all I said was 'hi.'" And before I got the last syllable out she lost interest in me and started conversing with her friend. A couple of people came over to my table and thumbed through my book and said things like, "What's this all about?" Or, "$23! That's way too much money." Or they would just flip through it with a look on their faces as if to say, "What kind of person writes a book on severed limbs?"

True, not everyone is a fan of Betty, but to make a face? When you are a card-carrying member of the group that no-longer-wants-to-be-known-as-home-economics?

Occasionally one of the event organizers would come by and reaffirm that I was invited and supposed to be selling books—which was nice, really nice. And then the awards ceremony started and didn't stop for a long time. Finally, it was time for the last award - Friend to Family Consumer Science and the winner was me! They even gave me a plaque and a corsage. I was utterly in shock. Everyone applauded and someone even cheered. I felt so honored and so unworthy.

And then I gave my little spiel on Betty and the crowd seemed happy and they cleaned me out of books and thanked me profusely and told me their stories about Betty. And one woman apologized for not realizing I was the author before and said had she known, she would never have said that $23 was too much to pay for my book. Another woman said she wished I was her granddaughter and until that moment I had never felt a pain well up so quickly and sharply in my throat. But I somehow managed to wait until I got in my car before I burst out in tears.

I have no idea what happened – but I will tell you what, by the end of the night I was ready to become a member and not just a friend.

Still, my all-time favorite event was the sold out Roseville Lutheran Church Annual Winter Tea. It was the second largest signing event with 400 people packed in to hear stories of Betty Crocker. It was also a homecoming of sorts considering I grew up and misspent most of my youth in Roseville – a suburb of St. Paul, Minnesota.

Nothing spectacular happened at the event – besides the fact that hundreds of people voluntarily left the warmth of their homes on a snowy January Sunday. But it was nice and everyone was friendly and grateful. And lucky for me, if the crowd thought my hair looked bad or if they were convinced that I needed some career counseling – they kept it to themselves. The Master of Ceremony even went on and on about how young I looked (God Bless her). And those Lutherans served cake – delicious, heavy on the frosting side. Considering what I’ve learned about never underestimating the power of a friendly face and sweet, heavenly baked goods, I really couldn’t have asked for a better way to wind down the tour.

© 2006 Susan Marks