THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Tuesday, September 26, 1995 TAG: 9509260002
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A10 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
LENGTH: Short : 42 lines
They say the good die young. Fortunately ``they'' are often wrong.
Popcorn king Orville Redenbacher was good, and he recently died at age 88.
Whenever we wondered whether there was anyone to trust, we could trust Orville Redenbacher. He said his popcorn would pop, and to guarantee it, each kernel was slowly dried to an exact moisture level of 13.25 percent.
``Every once in a while,'' he told the Los Angeles Times in 1984, ``someone will mail me a single popcorn kernel that didn't pop. They'll tape it to a piece of paper and mail it to me. So I'll get out a fresh kernel, tape it to a piece of paper and mail it back to them.''
One Sunday about two years ago, Orville Redenbacher appeared at the Urbanna United Methodist Church on the Middle Peninsula to worship. At the time he was visiting his longtime friend Rufus Harrell, a church member.
Necks craned as worshipers thought, ``He looks just like Orville Redenbacher.'' Then it was announced from the pulpit that in fact he was Orville Redenbacher, and the congregation was abuzz over the news.
People don't get more famous than Orville Redenbacher.
Larry Chowning, a reporter for the Southside Sentinel, a weekly newspaper in Urbanna, got to interview Orville Redenbacher during that visit. ``You'd think a guy who'd done so well might be a little cocky,'' Chowning said recently, ``but he wasn't that way at all. He was down to Earth.''
After the interview, the popcorn king gave Chowning a sticker that said, ``I met Orville.''
Mr. Redenbacher gave out such stickers or cards to all he met, not because he was bragging but because he realized people wanted proof they'd met him.
He was a man who got rich in the service of his customers, whom he never let down. Those among us who consider popcorn one of the basic food groups mourn his death. by CNB