Why the secrecy? It's just candy
If you've ever unwrapped a fresh Tootsie Roll, held it close to your nose and taken a long whiff of intoxicating chocolatey goodness, you can imagine the wave of rich cocoa aroma that rolls over you when stepping into the clattering commotion of the Tootsie Roll factory on Cicero Avenue for a pre-Halloween peek.
You're going to have to imagine it, since Tootsie Roll, as always, bars visitors from its candy factory.
"Maybe in the spring" ventures Mary Willis, the Tootsie Roll spokeswoman, which must be some kind of honorary title, like Kentucky Colonel, since Wills has never, in all the years I've been kneeling in the snow in front of the barred gates of Tootsie Roll, actually spoken anything officially -- the last time her name appeared in a newspaper, as far as I can tell, was in 1993.
Why are candy companies so tight-lipped? Mars Inc. is also famously reclusive. What is it? Willy Wonka Syndrome? Sugar-induced social anxiety? Typically large companies adore publicity. "Bring it on!" they cry, buying ads, billboards, inviting fans to gape as their products are lovingly crafted.
How does being mum help business? I put the question to Mars Inc. No reply. Someone must have an inkling. Why are candy companies so secretive?
"It's a great question," said Susan Whiteside, vice president of communications at the National Confectioners Association. "They're more protective than secretive. There is a lot of competition in the candy industry -- 450 manufacturers and 3,000 types of candy -- more than any other consumer package good. There's always pressure to be the most innovative, constantly to invent new product lines."
Perhaps. But Tootsie Rolls are over 100 years old. Whatever technology is behind them, they're not exactly the new version of Windows.
Maybe it's media arrogance -- we expect the welcome mat to be out. But this isn't just professional; it's personal. I've been eating Tootsie Rolls hand over fist for 45 years. And this is the best that the object of my affections can give me -- and, by proxy, you -- the old cold shoulder? Oh well, maybe things will be different in the spring.
Here I've been wasting space writing about war, religion and other nonessentials when what you really care about is personal hygiene. Some 450 readers replied to Wednesday's column puzzling over the dilemma of walking out of the restroom with freshly washed, still-wet hands, only to be introduced to someone who wants to shake.
The range of suggested solutions is a testament to human creativity, from fist bumping to blaming the flu.
"My solution -- dry the RIGHT hand very well," writes Larry Labow, of Northbrook.
"Do like the old farmers used to do," writes Kenneth Novotny. "Their hands were always dirty from working in the fields. When they went to shake your hand they spit into one of their palms and rubbed their hands together to remove the grime, somewhat, and then gave you a strong hardy handshake. Very manly."
"Hand sanitizer, my friend," writes Tim Crook. "It dries in seconds, without the need of paper towels."
Though I explained that thoroughly drying isn't an option -- takes too long -- readers, particularly women, still insist that diligent drying is the only way.
"Perhaps it's true that women do have more common sense than men," writes Miriam Kaufman of Wheeling. "Here is your solution: Take a few extra seconds to dry your hands thoroughly before leaving the loo and you won't have to worry."
The idea that most appealed to me comes from Tim O'Reilly.
"Here's what I do in that situation," he suggests, "leave the washroom while wiping the hands with the paper towels. That way if someone is there to shake hands, they'll know it's just water."
Alas, our restrooms do not have paper towels; nor do they have air dryers, though several readers praised the devices, and one offered to let us try one.
"We'd love to send you an Airblade to install and test out at the Sun-Times," writes Jennifer Hale, a vice president at Chicago-based Dyson. "Your damp hand dilemma is exactly what James Dyson set out to address when he invented the hand dryer."
No go -- given the need to run electricity to the dryers, plus jurisdictional restroom issues (don't ask) it would be easier to tear down the building and construct a new one with dryer-equipped restrooms than to install them in the current restroom. Just as well. Time to move on.
For you early birds, the reward for reading this before 9 a.m. Friday is that you can spin your dial to WBEZ, 91.5 FM at that time and hear me trying to get a word in edgewise on the "Month in Review" program.
Due to a production error, the number of e-mails in the item above was overstated by a factor of 10 -- it was 45, not 450. The Sun-Times regrets the error.
Many sent in versions of this old chestnut:
Still arguing the merits of their respective teams during the Crosstown Classic, the Cubs fan and the Sox fan ducked into the men's room to return their early innings beers.
After doing their business, the Cubs fan paused to rinse his hands at the sink while the Sox fan headed out the door.
"Cubs fans are taught to wash their hands after peeing!" the guy in the blue cap said.
"White Sox fans," the guy in the black cap laughed over his shoulder, "are taught not to pee on their hands."