Word: furred
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...began in 1863 when the first John Batterson Stetson, the sickly son of a New Jersey hatter, joined an expedition to Pike's Peak for his health. On the trip he startled his companions by scraping fur off raw hides, chewing it up, spitting the juice through his teeth to produce crude felt. The broad-brimmed beaver hat that he made with the felt was the butt of all the camp's jokes. But on the way back Stetson sold it to a St. Louis bullwhacker for $5 in gold, thereupon decided to go into business...
Halos of Thieves & Rustlers. With $10 worth of fur and $90 in cash, Stetson settled in Philadelphia (where headquarters have since remained) to turn out his hats, which he named "The Boss of the Plains." They had an immediate popularity among Westerners. Even by the '70s, thieves and rustlers who were shot and dumped in unmarked graves were later identified by the hatbands in their hats: one of Stetson's first tricks of merchandising was to stamp the retailer's name in the band in gold...
Under convivial fur-expert James Howell Cummings, who succeeded old John B. as president, Stetson also made a name as an "industrial democracy." At lavish Christmas parties, employes were given turkeys, gold watches, bonuses totaling up to $400,000 a year. There was a Stetson hospital, Stetson Sunday school, Stetson chorus, Stetson baseball team, Stetson tennis courts and swimming pool, even a Stetson cooperative grocery. But the depression put an end to most of this...
From manufacturers and retailers Hubbard, promising heavy plugs on the air, seined some $560,000 in merchandise. Whoever landed a tagged fish would get $560 in prizes: a camp cook stove, camp refrigerator, utility light, aluminum lawn mower, goatskin coat, outboard motor, suit of clothes, a woman's fur coat, two wool blankets and 52 cases of Pepsi-Cola. Another $6,000 in premiums, including a new car and trailer, would go with the first fish tag ending...
Last week, as C.C.P.A.C. prepared to elect a new slate of permanent officers, the fur flew faster than ever. Charged Industrialist Miles Pennypacker of the executive council: "Pope has a Napoleonic complex." Charged ruffled Dr. Pope, from the sidelines: "The organization has fallen into the hands of a group in whom we have no confidence." Explained Mrs. Brubaker: "Because you don't like certain people you shouldn't call them Communists. . . . Dr. Pope . . . has such awful phobias about Reds and things like that...