Sometimes you get what you
want but it ain't
what you expected.
Newman's Own was supposed to be a tiny
boutique operation-parchment labels on elegant wine bottles of
antique glass. We expected train wrecks along the way and got,
instead, one astonishment followed by another astonishment followed by
another. We flourished like weeds in the garden of Wishbone, like silver
in the vaults of finance. A lot of the time we thought we were
in first gear we were really in reverse, but it didn't seem to
make any difference. We anticipated sales of $1,200 a year and
a loss, despite our gambling winnings, of $6,000. But in these
twenty-six years we have earned over $200 million, which we've given
to countless charities. How to account for this massive success? Pure
luck? Transcendental meditation? Machiavellian
manipulation? Aerodynamics? High
colonics? We haven't the slightest
idea.
-PL and AE
