MMMMMMMM M&M

In the midst of all the muddle of an America on its (possibly) final ass, there are certain certainties to lift the heart. For example, the M&M candy is fifty years sweet. Who says America can't do anything right?

We have the sweetest tooth on earth, and the hippest confectioners to feed our bottomless maw. It's not much of a consolation (but like Teddy Roosevelt said of the Spanish-American War, "It wasn't much of a war, but it was the only war we had."), but it may be the only consolation we'll feel: For in 1987, M&M Ltd. took on the Japanese firm Lotte Ltd. of Tokyo (which had the chutzpah to simulate M&M's in the Land of the Rising Sony) and asked its Senator, Frank Lautenberg, to sic the Japanese Ambassador to the United States on those confectionery copycats. (Their slogan: "Mellow in your mouth, won't stick in your hand.") They bugged off.

It was Forrest Mars who cannily decided in 1940 that candy eaters would appreciate a confection that wouldn't make a gooey mess in their hands. Remember, this was B.F. (Before Fluorocarbons, when refrigeration was barely a gleam in the air-conditioning eye of Carrier of Syracuse.) The simple scheme (who says genius is complex?) was to coat a small blob of chocolate in a teflonny candy covering.

They're the most cosmopolitan candy ever popped: they quickly found their way into World War II GI rations,were served at the 1984 Olympics in L.A., and graced no fewer than 31 shuttle flights. And A.P.'s Darlene Superville informs us that the rock band Van Halen's contract calls for a backstage stash of three pounds of M&M's. No jelly beaners they. And they insist that the brown and tan ones be removed from their stashes. Talk about disaffirmative sweet talk.

This megatreat had very humble beginnings in Tacoma, Wash. in 1911. It was Founder Frank C. Mars' son Forrest who updated a British candy--a circle of chocolate covered with a crunchy coating. As Edgar Williams hasn't ever said, you're getting long in your cavity ridden teeth if you can remember that they originally came in paper tubes--brown, yellow, orange, red, green and violet, the last hue later replaced by a less flamboyant tan.

Forrest never trademarked the easily copied candy, but in 1950 started stamping an official-looking "M" trademark on the miniscule suckables to insure eaters they were gorging on the real thing. In this age of diversions and diversification, the Hackettstown, N.J. plant added Peanut M&M's to its cache in 1954, and colored peanut candies in 1960.

It even survived a crisis over the discontinuation of its red numbers in 1976 over the Red Dye No. 2, even though M&M's never indulged in that carcinogenic stuff. In 1982, a university student named Paul Hethmon founded the long discontinued Society for the Restoration and Preservation of Red M&M's and in the America of DeTocqueville assembled 500 members to flood M&M HQ with cris de couers demanding the return of the Little Reds. They reappeared in all their simple glory in 1987. Who says the public doesn't vote when important issues are at stake?

One hundred million of the little glories roll off the assembly line in northwestern New Jersey each and every day, insuring a sweet future for all of U.S. addicts. Let us pause thoughtfully the next time we suck those sweet somethings, and praise the Forrest who never lost sight of our treats. John and Forrest, Jr. inherited this Fort Knox of candy in 1973. But since it's privately held, we have no way of knowing how profitable their operation is (They're the Greta Garbos of the candy industry; they don't give interviews).

No matter, just as long as they keep those tiny, tasty balls rolling out of Hackettstown into our open mouths. The bottom line is MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.