How Dixie Cups changed the industry landscape

The Initial Struggle:

Once upon a time, there was a determined young man named Hugh Moore, hailing from the plains of Kansas. Armed with nothing but $3,000 and his father's cherished gold watch, and the notion that Americans could be made to pay for something they had been happily getting for free.

His conviction stemmed from a deep-seated concern for public health. For decades, since the 1850s, Americans had been quenching their thirst from tin dippers found on trains, at railway stations, and near general stores. The water may have been free, but it came at a hidden cost - the risk of disease lurking in every sip. Hugh was appalled by the grim reality. Public cups, never washed and brimming with germs, served as breeding grounds for all manner of water-borne illnesses. He couldn't bear to stand by while people unknowingly endangered their lives with each drink.

Determined to make a difference, Hugh had joined forces with a fellow Kansan named Lawrence Luellen. Together, they founded the American Water Supply Company of New England, driven by a shared mission to revolutionize the way people consumed water.

In their quest for financial support, the duo turned to New York City, staying at the Waldorf-Astoria to make an impression and opening an account at the Title Guarantee & Trust Company. Despite skepticism, Arthur Terry, the bank's treasurer, recognized potential in their venture and introduced Moore to investment banker Edgar Marston. Marston, horrified by the health risks posed by public dippers, connected Moore with William T. Graham, president of American Can Company, who agreed to finance Moore's Public Cup Vendor Company with $200,000.

Persistence and Adaptation:

With funding secured, the company leased 6,000 square feet in NYC to produce porcelain vending machines. These machines, divided into four sections, dispensed individual paper cups for a penny each, ensuring clean water with every purchase, despite some design flaws.

Initially, Hugh Moore marketed his water cups extravagantly, inviting the public to drink from them as if they were special chalices. Despite their presence on trains and at trolley stops in New York, most people weren't interested in paying for water they could get for free.

However, doctors and health officers saw the machines differently. They praised one machine at a significant tuberculosis meeting in Washington. When Lawrence Luellen, one of Moore's partners, tried to sell the machine to health professionals, he discovered a need for small cups in hospitals for collecting spit samples. Realizing it would be easier to sell cups than water, they adjusted their marketing strategy. Instead of selling cups in large water machines, they placed them in simple vending machines, emphasizing the safety of drinking from a clean paper cup versus a dirty dipper.

Hugh Moore stressed the dangers of drinking from dirty glasses, a message that still hadn't fully resonated with the public in 1908, despite Louis Pasteur's discoveries decades earlier. The paper cup gained popularity because it made water more accessible than whiskey, supported by the Anti-Saloon League for its promotion of fresh water over alcohol.

To further bolster support, Moore enlisted the help of Dr. Samuel Crumbine, who conducted experiments demonstrating the disease-spreading potential of common dippers and glasses. In 1909, as Kansas's Health Officer, Crumbine issued a statewide ban on common drinking cups.

Railroad managers, particularly those traversing Kansas, resisted Crumbine's orders vehemently. Hugh Moore countered their objections by highlighting the availability of paper cups, although most remained skeptical. An exception was the Lackawanna Railroad, which, in its bid to attract female passengers, introduced a fictional spokesperson, Phoebe Snow. Phoebe endorsed the Lackawanna for its use of clean-burning anthracite coal, which kept her attire free from soot during travel.

A series of print ads set to the rhyme scheme of "The House That Jack Built" advertised the Lackawanna. This one was typical:

Says Phoebe Snow - About to go

Upon a trip - To Buffalo

'My gown stays white- Both day and night - Upon the Road of Anthracite.'

When Moore plumped for Lackawanna's cup business, he submitted:

Phoebe dear

You need not fear To drink from cups That you find here

With cups of white

No bugs will bite

Upon the Road of Anthracite.

He won that battle but kept on losing the larger war against apathy concerning public drinking cups. He had installed his cups in some railroad stations as well as aboard the Lackawanna, but the public still didn't want to spend a penny for a cup of water. When Luellen tried to move the crusade into soda fountains, which were growing in number as public gathering places, he discovered, much to his regret, that a dishwasher's weekly wages cost less than a thousand of his cups did.

Piggybacking to Success:

Ten years had passed since Hugh Moore started his mission. He changed his company's name a few times but still wanted a better one. One day, he saw his neighbor's company called Dixie Doll Company. The word "Dixie" reminded him of the South. It sounded good and was easy to remember. So, he asked his neighbor if he could use it for his product, and they said yes. In 1919, Hugh called his product "Dixie Cups."

However, the new name alone didn't boost sales, and four more challenging years followed as Moore and Luellen awaited their big break. It finally arrived when they made a strategic decision—to package their product in disguise.

In the early 1920s, advancements in refrigeration and manufacturing led to cheaper and more accessible candy. Competing snack industries, particularly ice cream, saw this as a threat. Desiring to tap into the convenience trend, ice cream manufacturers sought a solution to package their product in smaller, more manageable portions. Seeing potential in Moore's Dixie Cups, they experimented with various methods but faced initial setbacks.

Moore, recognizing an opportunity, committed his company's resources to finding a solution. By halving the cup size to two and a half ounces, they devised a method for efficiently packaging ice cream. This unintended use of Dixie Cups inadvertently popularized disposable paper cups, marking a revolutionary shift in packaging history.

Consumer acceptance of paper cups as versatile, disposable containers grew steadily. Dixie Cups, initially associated with ice cream, soon became synonymous with convenience, finding widespread use in both homes and public spaces. After fourteen years of trials and errors, Moore and Luellen witnessed the demise of the public dipper and the widespread acceptance of disposable drinking cups.

By 1990, Dixie Cups had become a household staple, with an estimated 42 million used daily, a testament to Moore's enduring legacy in reshaping consumer habits and sanitation practices.