As home to the Capitol’s upper house, the United States Senate Chamber is among the most storied rooms in America. Appointed with red marble pilasters and rich blue carpeting, the chamber contains 100 mahogany desks. Senators can keep whatever they like in the desks—each is assigned a specific one—but the contents of desk No. 24 (last row, Republican side) is a matter of public record. This is the desk belonging to Sen. Pat Toomey of Pennsylvania.
Were you to lift the polished lid of No. 24, you would see a desk full of marshmallow Peeps.
There’s not only a good reason for this, there are two. First, No. 24 is known as the Candy Desk, a tradition that began in 1968 when Sen. George Murphy used his hutch to give out candy to his fellow legislators. Second, Sen. Toomey’s district includes Bethlehem, Pa., home of the Just Born Candy Co.—which is to say, the home of Peeps.
And if there’s a time of year to be discussing Peeps, it’s now. The Easter season is when Just Born does upwards of 75% of its Peeps sales—and we’re talking a lot of Peeps. The company makes an estimated 2 billion Peeps a year, which works out to 5.5 million Peeps a day. And, by our reckoning, in the time it took you to read this far into this story, somewhere around 3,800 Peeps will have come into the world.
“Peeps have become more than just a candy,” said Matt Pye, Just Born’s svp of sales and marketing. “[They’re] a global icon.”
Love Peeps or hate them, there’s little chance you don’t recognize them. But how did they become such a thing? Part corporate acquisition, part mechanical engineering.
The mists of time obscure the exact origins of the Peep, but the candy was first developed by confectioner Roscoe Rodda, who started the Rodda Candy Co. in Lancaster, Pa., in 1910. Rodda’s factory produced Peeps by hand; women would squeeze marshmallow batch out of pastry bags before sugaring and baking. (What’s supposed to be a chick is really just a doubled-over dollop of fluff.)
In 1953, Bob Born (son of Sam Born, who founded the candy company bearing his name in 1932) bought out Rodda. It was mainly Rodda’s jelly-bean business he wanted; the Peeps just came with the deal. Nevertheless, Born—a mechanically gifted executive—took the next several months to automate Peeps. His machinery, still in use today, led to a manifold increase in the Peep population, reducing the average Peep production time from 27 hours to six minutes.
It’s this innovation that’s responsible for making Peeps into a national thing, according to Pye. “How we got on the map—mass production and automation,” he said. “When the market started to grow, we were able to keep up.”
And since kids got (and continue to get) Peeps in their Easter baskets, the proliferation of Peeps has continued unabated. Not only do Peeps come in bunny, egg, pumpkin and tree shapes, but flavors including sour watermelon and root beer float. There are two Peeps & Co. retail stores, a fleet of Peepmobile vehicles and no end of fan-created events, including a sculpture contest called the—what else?—PeepShow.
Of course, a portion of the American populous can’t stand Peeps. Hearst’s foodie site Delish has called Peeps “the worst” for reasons including “ridiculous” colors and, overall, being “horrendous.” Reader’s Digest charged that Peeps “ruin the good name of marshmallows.” Then there’s the #peepsmassacre hashtag on Instagram showcasing the many ways people like to destroy Peeps, including eviscerating them with a pizza cutter. That said, Peeps’ fans seem to outweigh these naysayers.
All this over a dollop of marshmallow.