Hostess
you have forsaken your fans. The following is from columnist and radio
commentator Jim Hightower. It puts a different perspective on the demise of the
Hostess Twinkie and other Hostess products.
Read it
and weep for the memory of the Twinkie and shame on those whose dispassion for
others is obscured by self and greed.
"A Death in the Family -- and the Question is: Whodunit?
By Jim Hightower
Born in 1930 in Schiller Park, Ill., the deceased was 82 years old
at the time of passing, which ironically was the day before Thanksgiving.
Having long enjoyed the sweet life, the end was a bit bitter, for
the dearly departed's estate had been mercilessly plundered in recent years by
unscrupulous money managers. This left 18,500 surviving family members in dire
straits. Indeed, the family contends that the octogenarian's death was not due
to natural causes, but to foul play — a case of corporate murder.
This is the drama behind the sudden death of Twinkies. Fondly
remembered as "the cream puff of the proletariat" (and less fondly as
a sugar-and-fat bomb that delivered a toothache in one bite and a heart attack
in the next), this industrial concoction of 37 ingredients became, for better
or worse, an icon of American food processing.
The father of the Twinkie was James Dewar, a baker at the old
Continental Baking Co. who saw the goo-filled tube cake as a way to keep the
factory's confection machinery busy after strawberry shortcake season ended.
Yes, the Twinkie was actually conceived as "food" for idle machines.
How fitting is that?
But us humans happily swallowed this extruded marvel of comestible
engineering. As a teenager, I probably downed my weight in Twinkies each year — and my long years
on this Earth might well be due to the heavy dose of preservatives, artificial
flavors and other chemicals baked into every one of those cellophane-wrapped
two-packs that I consumed.
The Twinkie was the best-seller of Hostess Brands, a conglomerate
purveyor of some 30 nutritionally challenged (but moneymaking) brand-name food
products, ranging from Wonder Bread to Ho Hos. In the past year, Hostess racked
up $2.5 billion in sales — yet it suffered a staggering $1.1 billion in losses. Thus, on Nov.
21, Ripplewood Holdings, the private equity outfit that had taken over the
conglomerate in 2009, pulled the plug, solemnly announcing that Hostess simply
couldn't survive. Why? Because it was burdened with overly generous labor
contracts, the firm's executives declared, adding that greedy union officials
refused to save the company by taking cuts.
Wait a minute. They claim that the bereaved loved ones of the
Hostess family killed the Twinkie? Holy Agatha Christie, that can't be right.
Remember the horrible murders in 1978 of San Francisco Mayor George
Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk? At the killer's trial, his lawyer argued
for leniency on the grounds that his client subsisted on a steady diet of junk
food, which had addled his brain. This claim entered the annals of American
jurisprudence as the "Twinkie Defense."
Even less defensible is the campaign by Ripplewood financial
manipulators to lay the death of Hostess at the feet of loyal, longtime
employees who, after all, need the jobs. In fact, far from greedy, Hostess
workers and their unions have been both modest and faithful. Their wages are
decent but not at all excessive — only middle class. And the charge that unions would not make
sacrifices to help the company is a flat-out lie, for they had previously given
back $100 million in annual wages and benefits to help it survive.
The true perfidy in this drama is not in the union, but inside
Ripplewood's towering castle of high finance in New York City. After buying
Hostess in a bankruptcy sale, these equity hucksters proceeded to feather their
own nests, rather than modernize Hostess's equipment and upgrade its products,
as the unions had urged. For starters, these profiteers piled an unbearable
debt load of $860 million on Hostess, thus diverting its revenues into
nonproductive interest payments made to rich, absentee speculators. Also, they
siphoned millions of dollars out of Hostess directly into their corporate
pockets by charging "consulting and management fees" that did nothing
to improve the snack-makers financial health.
But it was not until this year that their rank managerial
incompetence and raw ethical depravity fully surfaced. While the Ripplewood
honchos in charge of Hostess were demanding a new round of deep cuts in
worker's pay, health care, and pensions, they quietly jacked up their own pay.
By a lot! The CEO's paycheck, for example, rocketed from $750,000 a year to
$2.5 million.
Like a character in a bad Agatha Christie whodunit, Ripplewood — the one so
insistently pointing the finger of blame at others — turns out to be
the one who killed the Twinkie. Along with the livelihoods of 18,500 workers.
This article was published at NationofChange at:
http://www.nationofchange.org/death-family-and-question-whodunit-1354111324.
All rights are reserved."