Who’s Ready For A Chuckle?

The title says it all. I had no idea that I was ready for a Chuckle until I saw some in a display near the cash register of a local hardware store. I remembered that friendly little pack of multi-colored jelly candies and immediately broke into a nostalgia swoon. How is it that the best (or at least the most interesting) varieties of candy only come from hardware stores?

My father had a major sweet tooth, and always had a jumble of candies and other sweet treats available for a quick snack. One of his regulars was Chuckles. But don’t ask me when was the last time I saw them for sale – frankly, I had forgotten that they ever existed. Until I was reminded.

Early wholesale ad for Chuckles candy, c. 1927.

And I have another question – why were so many new and durable candy items invented in the 1920’s? I suppose that the 20’s was the mass market in the U.S. hitting its stride. And when an industrial society hits its stride it needs a good Chuckle. Sorry, those puns will probably absolutely keep coming.

Fred W. Amend was born in Cleveland, Ohio in 1891. He seems to have started early in the candy business, first for the Heide Candy Company of New York. By 1921 he had moved to Illinois and formed the Fred W. Amend Co. as a marshmallow-making venture. Later that year he began producing a jelly candy after solving the problem that had plagued that kind of confection – a tendency to sweat and turn sticky in the packaging. Amend’s solution was to coat each piece in coarse crystals of sugar. It was Fred’s wife, Tulita, who gave the product a name – Chuckles.

Chuckles seems to have been sold through Woolworth’s stores early in the candy’s run before becoming a widespread brand name. The candy got plenty of publicity from the 1940’s on.

Amend’s company appears to have begun in Chicago but it is clear that by about 1930 the operation had relocated in Danville, Illinois, where production remained for decades. It was not until 1970 that the company (with Fred Amend nearing the age of 80) was sold, beginning a confusing maze of ownership and licensing rights.

It looked something like this: In 1970 the Fred W. Amend Company was sold to Nabisco. In 1986, Nabisco sold the company and manufacturing operations to local investors and former employees (which became Tempo Confections), while simultaneously selling the Chuckles brand name and licensing rights to the Finnish company Leaf, Inc. Hershey inherited Chuckles when it acquired Leaf in 1996. It was 2002 when Leaf sub-licensed the brand to Farley & Sathers Candy Company, which merged into the Ferrara Candy Company in 2012.

It was during the Nabisco era that Chuckles latched onto a tie-in with Evil Knievel. Is it just me, or does that seem like one of the great mis-matches in promotional tie-ups? On the few times I have imagined what Mr. Knievel might have consumed when he was not careening across gaping spans on his screaming motorcycle, Chuckles would not have been one of them. Oh well.

Surely everyone reading here has tried Chuckles. What? Not everyone? Let me help you with this. Each package consists of five little sugar-coated jelly biscuits. Each of the five pieces is a different flavor, and always in the same order. From left to right: cherry, lemon, licorice, orange, lime.

Sugar coated jelly candy orange slices.

When I was a tot, one grandmother always had a candy jar, and most of the time it was filled with “orange slices”. These had no relation with Chuckles, other than being a similar product. And an even deeper rabbit hole. Let’s say that their parentage is disputed but it was Brach’s that made them popular. Anyway, Orange Slices were just like orange Chuckles, only each piece was shaped like a segment of a peeled orange, and coated with a similar sugar coating that gave them a bit of a crunch when you bite them. Anyway, I loved Orange Slices (and still do). And perhaps this is my biggest impediment to enjoying Chuckles.

For my first Chuckle in decades, I opened the package and started with the lime end. I started there because lime is one of my least favorite flavors. Unless we are talking a gin & tonic, when lime becomes a delight. It was not unpleasant, and for someone who loves lime, well, there is lime to love. The problem with starting with lime is that the next Chuckle on tap is the orange – my very favorite, for the reason disclosed above. A package of nothing but orange Chuckles would be a good hearty laugh. But they do not come that way – which may be why Orange Slices exist.

Then – licorice. There are two kinds of people in the world. There are those who love the taste of licorice candy. I am of the second group, who does not understand why I have to share a world with people of the first group. Really, couldn’t you licorice fans go off and live somewhere by yourselves with your black-stained teeth? Or maybe not – we are divided by enough things these days without getting that way over candy. But it was in the interest of journalistic integrity (or was it just dark humor) that I ate the black Chuckle instead of mailing it to my little sister. My father was one of those licorice-loving people, which allowed him to be a Chuckle 100 percenter instead of the 80 percenter that I am. Or maybe 60 percenter, depending on how I am feeling about the lime on a given day.

It was the lemon Chuckle that cleansed the licorice from my palate, and did so pretty effectively. Which makes me wonder how it would be on its own instead of as a sort of candy rescue mission. But I was back to my old self by the time I finished off with the cherry Chuckle, probably my second-favorite flavor of the five.

So there! I have had my nostalgic Chuckles and am in a pretty good mood about the whole thing. I will confess, however, that the candy’s draw for me is more about the nostalgia than about actually consuming them because of the massive shift of gears that takes place with each different flavor. For me, a package of Chuckles is a mixture of sublime highs (orange), crashing lows (licorice) and the climbs and descents between them. Which is just more work than is ideal from a package of candy.

I feel kind of bad about this conclusion. You see, when I see that cheerful package (and the delightful name), I really want to like Chuckles. Sadly, Chuckles is just one more in a long list of things where the expectation is better than the actual experience. Or better than 40% of the experience, anyway. Sorry, but percentages are so easy when we are dealing with 5 items that I just cannot resist. Chuckles are like so many record albums from the days of yore, where one side had two really great songs, a couple that were OK and one that you just couldn’t stand.

Advertising photo of Chuckles from the manufacturer, Ferrara Candy Company.

But if nothing else, I got a couple of good Chuckles out of the package. Sorry, I’ll stop now.

47 thoughts on “Who’s Ready For A Chuckle?”

  1. It occurs to me that my occasional forays into candy comparisons haven’t included anything fruity, even though I’ve had a roll of Lifesavers and a roll of Charms on my desk since June. Chuckles might be a good one to compare to something like Zachary fruit slices.

    John and I recently did review a similarly-named candy- Chunky. Not my favorite.

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  2. Thanks for the introduction to Chuckles.

    You aren’t alone in the questioning licorice camp. Looking at the five flavors, and seeing licorice, the old Sesame Street song asking which of these is not like the others starts playing in my head.

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  3. Back in the day, I remember getting Chuckles on Halloween. We considered them to be better than candy corn, but not as good as a typical chocolate bar.

    A quick search confirms that Chuckles are a product of Ferrara Candy, who produces a lot of the “old” iconic brands including Jujyfruits, Atomic Fireballs, and Fruit Stripe gum.

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    • Atomic Fireballs – now THERE is a great name for candy! I remember my kids getting those at Halloween, and they were fairly prized. I don’t ever remember getting Chuckles at Halloween. They would have been better than Smarties, though.

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  4. Is it a breach of Chuckles etiquette to flavor hop?

    Whichever end of the package you start, seems the licorice is in the middle. So for the sane camp of the licorice-flavor debate, the experience seems like a vague V-shape curve: no matter which end you start with, the low’s in the middle.

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    • I had not considered flavor-hopping, but perhaps it is because I had orderliness drummed into me from a young age. You raise an interesting point about the “V” shape of the flavor curve. And for lovers of licorice, it might be the apex, with a downhill slope in either direction. I would love to know if there was a reason for the order of flavors in the package.

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  5. You know, I’ve also discovered that the hardware store is a great place for finding long-forgotten (by the marketplace) candies! It’s gotten to the point that I’ll often shop for stocking stuffers there at Xmas. Which is how Jeff’s family members wind up with things like a big old pack of Bazooka bubble gum each year (which they won’t eat, but I find really cool).

    I did see Chuckles recently at the hardware store and was reminded of them after not really noticing them for decades. I was never a big fan…mostly due to the fact that I too abhor licorice and really could never consume anything that contained it. Hence, getting a candy – even one in a REALLY cool little white paper tray (I always thought) – where 20% of it would be inedible just bothered me. Over the years, I’ve also confused Chuckles with their lesser and not quite as sugar encrusted cousins, Jujubes. And it may well be that the last time I saw Chuckles (before Ace Hardware) was at a movie theater. For me, they always seemed to be movie candy, like Jujubes, Jr. Mints and the dreaded (by me) Good & Plenty.

    Finally, I suspect that there IS a reason for the candy explosion in the 1920s…and it has something to do with boring stuff like taxation, imports, and trade shifts in global commodities. (I guess I know what I’m going to be reading about this weekend šŸ˜‰ )

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    • Yes, do not get your hopes up for me to get through a box of Good N Plentys in this space! Jujubes might be another story. Or my more common fruity candy go-go, Dots.

      I was expecting some pushback from the licorice-loving parts of the cosmos, but so far everyone sees things my way. How unusual. šŸ™‚

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      • When I was about 6, my parents got me one of those play doctor sets with the hard plastic “doctor’s bag”, head reflector, etc…they thought it was quite charming that 6 year old me would carry it around everywhere and tell people I was going to be a doctor; and do things such as do physical examinations of the cat and dog (clearly I had some MD-DVM confusion back then). The kit contained “play pills”…which turned out, once I tried them (which is something that I recall my parents warning me against), to basically be Good & Plentys.

        I think that that’s the reason why I never went to medical school.

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  6. As one of the heretics that likes the licorice flavor Chuckles, i propose we each buy 5 packs of them, i will let you have 5 of your favored flavors, and i get 5 of the licorice ones from you šŸ™‚ That way you can have a solid pack of your favored flavor and i can have mine!

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    • Finally, we have a licorice-lover. Look at me, being all nice and welcoming and everything. šŸ™‚

      You have a great idea there – a Chuckles Exchange! I will happily trade you all of the black ones for, well, just about anything.

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  7. I have had Chuckles in the past, but it’s been a while. Like your grandmother (and you), my mom loved the orange slices and we used to buy Brach’s and I think they were called “Orangettes” or maybe my mom called them that? She loved them. She also was a licorice fan, not only the jellied kind found in Chuckles, but also the licorice “Jelly Bird Eggs” jellybeans we used to buy at Sander’s (a big candy name here in the Detroit area). So, you are not alone there JP. šŸ™‚ I never got to eat candy growing up, so I really didn’t eat much of it when I got older, some chocolate at the various holidays mostly. Brach’s Christmas “jellied candy” used to be available only at the holidays I believe they were wreath and bell-shaped, with wreaths tasting of lime and bells tasting like cherry. And they had those pepperminty Christmas nougats too. After I got a crown on a lower tooth, I said “no more gooey stuff for me!”

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      • When I was a kid growing up in Canada, my mom’s hairdresser had a shop next to an old-fashioned candy store. Even though I wasn’t allowed candy, my father would take me in the candy store to buy a small bag of licorice Scottie dogs. They were a big thing in Canada – I don’t know if they sold them here. This would have been the early 1960s. They were cute, but I can’t say they tasted great because when you bit into them, they were pure licorice, so dark brown inside and bitter, kind of like Licorice Allsorts (if you those candies here – maybe at your Grandma’s). I think “Grandma candy” is universal – those hard candies at Christmas that look like Christmas presents or chocolate straws, the little after-dinner mints, Licorice Allsorts … oh yes, the Danish Butter Cookies too.

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  9. In my 67 years on the earth, I don’t think I’ve ever had Chuckles! And to be honest, I can’t remember the last time I ever saw them on a grocery shelf. I did get orange slices a few times as a kid, and I remember liking those. I agree with you on the licorice flavor – any kind of candy with that flavor got a hard pass from me.

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  12. You can’t fool me, JP. Your post was never really about Chuckles; no, it was clearly a veiled attack on licorice. ;^)

    About which I have mixed feelings. I can’t stand the weirdly soft and/or chewy versions of it but I love the flavor of Luden’s/Smith Bros. black licorice cough drops.

    Back to the subject at hand, I’ve never liked Chuckles or other candies of that nature for strictly textural reasons. I hate how they feel when I chew them and how they stick to my teeth. Just…ewww.

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    • That’s interesting about hard vs soft licorice. I wonder how it would work out if I took a month or so to (try to) acquire a taste for the stuff.

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  15. With the subject focusing on licorice, I’ll note that I discovered a new candy at the grocery store yesterday…as my grocery store tends to carry some oddball stuff particularly around Halloween. Has anyone ever heard of “Crows”? They seem to be made by the Tootsie Roll people and have all the signs of being a more or less forgotten brand that somehow has clung on.

    https://shop.tootsie.com/collections/crows I love the packaging.

    These may be of interest to licorice-lovers who get tired of by-passing all of the edible gum drops only to eat the disgusting black ones. šŸ™‚

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  17. Chuckles are right in line with the types of chewy sugary candies that appealed to me when I was a kid (endless examples: Jujyfruits, Jujubees, Mike and Ike, Now and Later). All of them are responsible for the dental cavities of those years. I give Chuckles a ton of credit for including black licorice among the five (SO underappreciated). Seriously, wouldn’t most people who see Chuckles for the first time think the one in the middle was grape? They don’t know what they’re missing (even if you do – ha). But to be fair if I could only choose one it’d be cherry. Cherry has to be my favorite flavor for a non-chocolate candy (Regal Crown Sour Cherry and Sour Lemon were the BEST). Finally, I have to wonder you had “jellie” a hundred years ago but “jelly” as long as I’ve been alive? Maybe meant to remain one of life’s little mysteries.

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    • “Jellie” vs. “Jelly” is an excellent question, and one that stumps me too. And I generally agree with you on what a win cherry-flavored candy (or almost anything else” is. I suspect that without the sentimental exposure to orange slices, the cherry would be my favorite.

      Maybe someday I need to sit down with a bunch of licorice candy and see if I can come to an appreciation of what you see in it. After all, I was able to acquire a taste for scotch whiskey. šŸ™‚

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  18. I had never heard of this candy before you wrote about it.

    I don’t ever remember seeing it for sale here in southcentral Pennsylvania.

    Then again, I could never stand gum drops (or similar candy) and only tolerated licorice. I would have immediately skipped over a box of Chuckles and never looked at them again, even if they were offered for sale in stores around here.

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    • Thinking back, I am trying to remember if I ever saw them anywhere else besides the cabinet where my father kept his stash of sweet goodies. I am sure they were out there, but it was probably the licorice that kept me from seeking them out.

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