Seven years has passed since Hickory Farms delivered what might be its most bitter holiday offering to Toledo – not a gift box of summer sausage and cheese, but a stinging farewell wrapped in corporate disdain.
The year was 2017. Then-CEO Diane Pearse declared that Hickory Farms needed a “world-class city with great talent,” a parting shot that still echoes throughout our community.
As reported in the Toledo Blade: “We need to attract talent that has experience in retail product development and merchandising. We have to attract talent that has experience in retail marketing. We have to have talent that has e-commerce marketing and e-commerce sales experience,” Pearse said. “That quite frankly isn’t the focus for Toledo. Toledo is a manufacturing town.”
They say you will do better in Toledo. Apparently, that wasn’t true for Pearse.
For more than 65 years Toledo nurtured the company from a small local business founded in Toledo in 1951 into a national brand.
The irony isn’t lost on anyone who visits Franklin Park Mall during the holiday season.
Each December and January, like clockwork, Hickory Farms returns to the very city it deemed insufficient, setting up shop in Franklin Park Mall, betting on the loyalty of Toledo consumers.
The display is lined with the same signature products that were once proudly made and marketed by Toledo talent. Yet, any detail-oriented consumer who scans the back of the product packaging knows any product purchased during this past holiday season was “distributed and manufactured” not in Toledo — but Chicago.
The company that couldn’t find enough local retail and marketing expertise still manages to find plenty of local customers.
The company turned its back on Toledo. Toledo didn’t turn its back on it.
More peculiar still? We keep showing up. Seven years later.
Perhaps there’s something telling in this annual ritual and funky juxtaposition. While Hickory Farms may have found its “world-class talent” in Chicago, it can’t seem to quit Toledo entirely.
We’re still here, still buying beef sticks and cheese balls, still making their products part of our holiday traditions.
While it’s no doubt Chicago has access to a larger talent pool than Toledo, and a firm leaving a smaller city for a larger one isn’t unique – the dismissive departure was notably harsh for a brand rooted in Toledo and built on Midwestern values and hospitality.
The company’s success story began here in 1951. From that initial store set it Maumee in 1959, Richard Ransom’s vision of quality food gifts flourished. For decades, Toledo’s supposedly insufficient talent pool managed to build Hickory Farms into a holiday household name. Somehow, we managed just fine.
Companies may leave, but communities still endure. Toledo continues to grow and evolve, attracting new businesses and nurturing local talent – the very talent Hickory Farms claimed it couldn’t find.
Seven years after its corporate departure, but consistent holiday retail presence, perhaps it’s time to appreciate the irony: Hickory Farms still needs Toledo.
As for Toledo? We’ve moved forward, even if we occasionally stop by their mall kiosk for old times’ sake.
That’s the thing about Midwestern hospitality. We’ll still welcome you back, even after you’ve told us we weren’t good enough. Maybe that’s what you might call world-class.
