The Rise of Snapple: How It Conquered the 1990s

For numerous consumer brands, achieving urban legend status is a hallmark of success. In 1985, Procter & Gamble faced rumors linking their moon and stars logo to Satanic worship. Similarly, Kentucky Fried Chicken dealt with bizarre claims in the 1990s about breeding eight-legged, beakless chickens to meet demand. Another infamous myth involved 'Mikey,' the Life Cereal mascot, who was falsely rumored to have died in the 1970s after consuming Pop Rocks and Coca-Cola, causing his stomach to explode.

By 1993, Snapple found itself at the center of a damaging rumor. In California's Bay Area, whispers spread that the beloved iced tea and fruit drink brand was financially supporting the Ku Klux Klan, allegedly evidenced by a small 'K' on their labels. The rumor gained such traction that Snapple was forced to place ads in local newspapers to publicly deny any association with the group.

The existence of such rumors highlighted Snapple's immense popularity. Starting as a small Long Island-based producer of niche beverages, the company skyrocketed from $13.3 million in revenue in 1988 to an impressive $774 million by 1994. Marketed as a healthier option compared to traditional sodas, Snapple leveraged witty advertising, genuine customer engagement, and a down-to-earth spokesperson to become one of the decade's most iconic success stories.

Snapple's challenges extended far beyond the false rumors linking them to a racist organization. Despite achieving massive success and reaching a $1.7 billion valuation, the company strayed from the innovative marketing approach that had propelled them to the top of the beverage industry. By 1997, consumers began to lose interest in what was once hailed as the 'best stuff on earth.'

In 1972, Arnold Greenberg managed a health food store when two longtime friends, Leonard Marsh and Hyman Golden, teamed up with him for a new business endeavor. Marsh and Golden, who were brothers-in-law and ran a window washing service, collaborated with Greenberg to establish Unadulterated Food Products, Inc. The company sold fruit juices, eggs, and fresh produce to health food stores across New York City and its surrounding areas.

The trio aimed to create a carbonated fruit juice as their signature product, blending the effervescence of soda with natural flavors. Their initial attempt, an apple juice, fermented inside the bottles, causing them to explode and destroy their stock. Although the drink was scrapped, the name Snapple—a playful combination of 'snappy' and 'apple'—remained. (They later purchased the trademark for $500 from a Texas-based company that had already registered it.)

Throughout the 1980s, Unadulterated Food Products maintained a steady business by supplying bodegas, delis, and other food service outlets where customers could grab a bottle to complement their meals. In 1987, they revolutionized their iced tea production by hot-bottling it, eliminating the need for preservatives and reinforcing their all-natural branding. By making the drink available year-round instead of seasonally, they catered to tea enthusiasts who enjoyed it even during colder months.

Snapple fully embraced its down-to-earth image. Drinking from their wide-mouth bottles felt like enjoying a homemade beverage on a porch, while their quirky, slightly uneven labels added to the charm. In contrast to the polished corporate image of Coca-Cola, Snapple exuded a relatable, underdog vibe.

Despite their laid-back brand identity, Greenberg and his partners were surprised in 1993 when the advertising agency Kirshenbaum Bond proposed a bold new national campaign idea: featuring Wendy Kaufman, the company’s mailroom employee, as the face of their ads.

Kaufman joined Snapple in 1991 after a referral from a friend’s father, who was also a close associate of Greenberg. Starting in the shipping department, she noticed the influx of letters arriving at the company’s Long Island headquarters. With permission, she began responding to them, eventually transitioning into a public relations role.

The ad agency aimed to preserve Snapple’s authentic vibe and Kaufman’s natural charm by creating TV commercials where she read real letters from fans and responded to them on camera. In one instance, a child wrote suggesting he’d make a great mascot; Kaufman surprised him by taking him to mascot school. Another fan invited her to prom, and she happily accepted.

For Kaufman, the campaign offered a fresh start, helping her move past a self-acknowledged struggle with cocaine addiction that began in 1980. For Snapple, it was a strategic move to reinforce their brand by avoiding celebrity endorsements, which were typical in the beverage sector. The 37 ads filmed between 1993 and 1995 were a massive hit, turning Kaufman into a beloved figure akin to Tony the Tiger. She made surprise visits to college dorms with Snapple deliveries and responded to 2000 fan letters weekly. Sales soared from $232 million in 1992 to $774 million in 1994. Snapple became a cultural phenomenon, featured on Seinfeld, endorsed by Howard Stern, and praised for its innovative marketing.

Then came the downfall, often referred to as 'Crapple.'

In 1992, Greenberg, Marsh, and Golden decided to sell a majority stake in Snapple to the Thomas H. Lee investment firm, with Marsh staying on as CEO. By 1994, Snapple was acquired by Quaker Oats Company. While Snapple had already achieved significant success, many anticipated that a global corporation could take the brand to even greater heights.

As highlighted by the Harvard Business Review, managing a thriving brand is more challenging than it seems. Quaker Oats, having seen tremendous success with Gatorade, attempted to replicate similar strategies with Snapple. They introduced larger bottle sizes, ranging from 32 to 64 ounces, and phased out Kaufman, whose persona no longer aligned with Quaker’s refined marketing vision. They also distanced themselves from Stern, deeming his controversial image unsuitable for Snapple’s evolving market presence.

Looking back, Quaker made several critical mistakes. Customers weren’t interested in oversized 64-ounce bottles of iced tea, preferring smaller, more portable options for work. They also missed Wendy Kaufman, whose personality embodied Snapple’s quirky, grassroots charm. Additionally, Howard Stern, feeling slighted by the brand, used his massive platform to criticize Snapple, dubbing it 'Crapple' and broadcasting his critiques to millions of listeners nationwide.

Quaker misunderstood Snapple’s transition from a scrappy underdog to a respected brand. In 1997, they sold Snapple to Triarc for $300 million, a significant loss compared to the $1.4 billion they had paid just three years earlier. This misstep led to the resignation of Quaker CEO Bill Smithburg.

While Snapple’s peak popularity may have waned, there was still a strong demand for its unique flavors, such as Diet Kiwi Strawberry Cocktail, which even became a favorite among horses at a Seattle stable. Triarc recognized this and brought back Kaufman in 1997, featuring her in a new ad campaign and even placing her image on bottles of Wendy’s Tropical Inspiration. They also diversified their product offerings, allowing consumers to choose their preferred flavors.

Triarc’s turnaround of Snapple was as impressive as Quaker’s failure. In 2000, they sold the brand to Cadbury Schweppes for $1.45 billion. Later, as part of the Dr Pepper Snapple Group, Snapple was acquired by Keurig, a subsidiary of JAB Holdings, in 2018 for $18.7 billion, marking another significant chapter in the brand’s history.

Snapple’s journey has been a whirlwind, beginning in a modest health food store, rising to cultural prominence, nearly collapsing due to a flawed marketing strategy, and ultimately being revived by a company that prioritized its original values.

Regarding the hate group rumors: The 'K' on the label had no ties to the Klan. It simply indicated that the product was kosher.