Jackaloftheazuresand · 31-35, M
That is definitely much cooler
Tastyfrzz · 61-69, M
@Jackaloftheazuresand it actually is. Too bad they went extinct. I hear that someone is trying to recreate them.
SatanBurger · 36-40, F
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whowasthatmaskedman · 70-79, M
@anythingoes477 OK. I get it. Not sure about it though..Lindey Graham for instance wasnt into girls..😷
Gibbon · 70-79, M
I have so wanted so many times to have something to throw back at you that just hit me that your damn profile name is the perfect reason for the poor selection. It's just like that day. You don't have a reputable leg to post anything and be taken seriously. Here's your real story, Dummy
By 1957, Tastee Freez had nearly 1,800 locations and was the
fiercest competitor to Dairy Queen. The company was at its
peak, and the men running it had a simple question: where do
we go from here? The answer they chose would kill the company.
In 1959, the British restaurant giant J. Lyons and Co. obtained
exclusive UK rights to distribute Tastee Freez soft-serve
equipment. That partnership became the seed of an idea: put the
machines in trucks and sell ice cream on the move. It was a
bold pivot from the walk-up storefront model that had built the
brand. They rolled out roughly 300 trucks in England at about
$8,300 each, and they tried the same mobile model back home
in the United States.
The trucks were a disaster. The concept didn't catch on the way
the company had hoped, and the capital they'd poured into
overseas expansion came due.
The light in the boardroom was the kind that makes every face
look a little guilty. Herbert Molner sat across from the
directors and said the quiet part out loud: the trucks were a
mistake. Three hundred of them, sitting in English parking
lots, each one costing more to maintain than it earned in
sundaes. The Lyons partnership had looked like a golden bridge
to a new market. It was a bridge into a ditch.
By September 1963, the math was done. Six million dollars in
debt. A $3 million loan that never materialized. The SEC had
already suspended trading on the stock over an insider
investigation, so there wasn't even a dignified way to sell
out. The New York Times ran the story in December — the
court-approved plan was to sell the trucks back at a loss,
$6,500 apiece, for units that had cost $8,300 to build.
The bankruptcy filing landed on September 4th. One of the
largest soft-serve chains in America, a company that once had
1,800 locations and two seven-and-a-half-foot mascots with
soft-serve hair, went under because it put ice cream trucks on
British roads.
Molner, who had been Maranz's assistant, bought the company
out of the wreckage. His daughter-in-law would one day sit in a
newsroom chair and become the most recognizable face on
American television. But that's a different story.
The trucks were sold. The brand was smaller. And somewhere in
Maryland, a kid in Federalsburg was still getting a strawberry
cone, not knowing that the company behind it had almost died
in a foreign parking lot.
By 1957, Tastee Freez had nearly 1,800 locations and was the
fiercest competitor to Dairy Queen. The company was at its
peak, and the men running it had a simple question: where do
we go from here? The answer they chose would kill the company.
In 1959, the British restaurant giant J. Lyons and Co. obtained
exclusive UK rights to distribute Tastee Freez soft-serve
equipment. That partnership became the seed of an idea: put the
machines in trucks and sell ice cream on the move. It was a
bold pivot from the walk-up storefront model that had built the
brand. They rolled out roughly 300 trucks in England at about
$8,300 each, and they tried the same mobile model back home
in the United States.
The trucks were a disaster. The concept didn't catch on the way
the company had hoped, and the capital they'd poured into
overseas expansion came due.
The light in the boardroom was the kind that makes every face
look a little guilty. Herbert Molner sat across from the
directors and said the quiet part out loud: the trucks were a
mistake. Three hundred of them, sitting in English parking
lots, each one costing more to maintain than it earned in
sundaes. The Lyons partnership had looked like a golden bridge
to a new market. It was a bridge into a ditch.
By September 1963, the math was done. Six million dollars in
debt. A $3 million loan that never materialized. The SEC had
already suspended trading on the stock over an insider
investigation, so there wasn't even a dignified way to sell
out. The New York Times ran the story in December — the
court-approved plan was to sell the trucks back at a loss,
$6,500 apiece, for units that had cost $8,300 to build.
The bankruptcy filing landed on September 4th. One of the
largest soft-serve chains in America, a company that once had
1,800 locations and two seven-and-a-half-foot mascots with
soft-serve hair, went under because it put ice cream trucks on
British roads.
Molner, who had been Maranz's assistant, bought the company
out of the wreckage. His daughter-in-law would one day sit in a
newsroom chair and become the most recognizable face on
American television. But that's a different story.
The trucks were sold. The brand was smaller. And somewhere in
Maryland, a kid in Federalsburg was still getting a strawberry
cone, not knowing that the company behind it had almost died
in a foreign parking lot.
trollslayer · 51-55, M
whowasthatmaskedman · 70-79, M