Telling the World About Breakfast

What do Cornfucius say?

Man with broken leg make no complaints.

No complaints?

Can't kick.

This joke, which may be just about right for an eight-year-old, is one of many similar "Cornfucius" gags that will soon assault U.S. households. It is part of a radio ad campaign launched this week by the Kellogg Co. of Battle Creek, Mich., a firm that enjoys feeding the nation corn through its eyes and ears as well as through its esophagus. Kellogg is the world's largest maker of ready-to-eat cereals, and its 25 plants, serving 150 countries, turn out the equivalent of 9 billion bowls of cereal a year in 19 varieties. Last week, reporting on 1963, Kellogg announced the highest sales ($321.5 million) and earnings ($28.2 million) in its history.

Yogi & Huck. A big bite of these profits came from such Kellogg basics as corn flakes, which Founder Will Kellogg began to market in 1906 as a health food, and Rice Krispies, whose snap, crackle, pop is part of American folklore. To keep crackling, Kellogg's puts its faith in new products, has introduced ten new cereals in the last 13 years. The latest is a circular, multicolored, fruit-flavored oat cereal called Froot Loops, which Kellogg's is pushing as suitable--or possibly sootable--for all the family from 5 to 95. Just as pre-sugared cereals became the big sellers of the '50s, Froot Loops may signal a new trend in the '60s toward fruit-flavored cereals.

As with soap or cigarettes, cereal selling is essentially aggressive marketing. Kellogg's has cornered 43% of the U.S. market--double that of either General Foods or General Mills--by doggedly making breakfast and cereal synonymous. The company preaches nutrition and flavor with countless advertise ments, 15 television shows (including the top-ranked Beverly Hillbillies) and afternoon cartoon shows on 180 local stations that feature such fetching salesmen as Yogi Bear, Woody Woodpecker and Huckleberry Hound. All this has helped put four Kellogg cereals--Corn Flakes, Rice Krispies, Special K and Sugar Frosted Flakes--among the industry's top seven sellers.

Knisper, Knasper, Knusper. Like the late Will Kellogg, the company's officers and directors look upon cereal selling as a solemn mission. President and Chair man Lyle Roll, 56, a onetime door-to-door Kellogg's salesman, eats at least two bowls of cereal a day (morning and before bed), and sometimes a third when he drops in on the daily taste testing conducted by company executives. Nowadays, Roll's time is taken up largely by Kellogg's rapidly expanding international sales, which account for about 30% of its total volume. "Our future," says Roll, "is pointed toward educating the world about breakfast."

Selling in 13 languages, Kellogg's holds about 45% of the U.S. ready-to-eat cereal export trade. There is, of course, scattered resistance. The French, used to having munchy croissants or brioches for breakfast with their cafe au lait, shrink from the crunchy corn flake. The Brazilians, to Kellogg's great distress, have no precise word for "breakfast," and prefer coffee and toast for their first meal of the day. But elsewhere, notably in England, Australia and South Africa, cereal sales are strong. Norwegians call for "Flikk Flakk" in the morning when they want corn flakes, and in Germany snap, crackle, pop comes out knisper, knasper, knusper. Even the Japanese are asking for Kerogu Corn Frakes these days.

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