Once in a blue moon, and that blue moon can take years to come around, I feel like eating pancakes. I felt like it a few Saturday mornings ago. I didn’t have any pancake mix in my kitchen, so I walked to the Kroger store here on Madison Avenue in Covington, Ky. I purchased some Aunt Jemima original pancake mix and some Aunt Jemima syrup. I would have gotten some Aunt Jemima margarine too, but there is no such thing. I got Blue Bonnet instead.
When I got back home, I fixed myself a stack of pancakes. I poured on some of the syrup and dabbed on some of the margarine. While sitting down at my table and eating the pancakes, I started to remember meeting Aunt Jemima. This was back in the late 1950’s.
It’s one of my earliest memories. I wasn’t even in the first grade yet, probably four or five years old. My twin brother and I were visiting our grandparents on their farm just outside of Vevay, Ind. It was summer and it was hot — too hot to take a road trip to a grocery store in Vevay to meet a woman on a pancake box, but my brother and I had no choice. Aunt Jemima was coming to town and my grandparents were looking forward to meeting her.
I recall this being around midday, around lunchtime. Again, it was hot and I don’t think the grocery store had any kind of air conditioning. I remember the store was crowded. I remember being pushed and shoved. People were anxious to meet Aunt Jemima.
Free food was being served, namely free pancakes. I remember reaching a long table with my grandfather beside me. He touched my shoulder and said, “Larry, this is Aunt Jemima!”
She looked at me and smiled just a little. She didn’t seem all that happy. Maybe it was because she was busy. Aunt Jemima, the celebrity my grandparents wanted me to meet, was busy making the pancakes. She was making them for hundreds of her fans in that grocery store in Vevay, Indiana.
Even at such a young age, something felt strange to me about this. Why was she making the pancakes? Shouldn’t we be making them for her?
Aunt Jemima handed me a couple pancakes on a paper plate. There wasn’t enough syrup on them and no margarine or butter at all. I took a couple bites and announced to my grandparents I was full. So did my brother.
That’s where my memory of Aunt Jemima ends. I don’t remember going back to my grandparent’s farm afterwards; don’t even remember talking to my brother about her. What I remember most is Aunt Jemima’s face. It’s ingrained in my memory.
On that pancake box, Aunt Jemima looked kind of heavy but very happy. This woman I met on that hot, summer day looked thin, sad and defeated. She wasn’t even wearing an apron or kerchief like she did on the box.
Of course, the woman I met wasn’t Aunt Jemima at all. There never was a real one. Doing a Google search, I found out the company who makes the pancake mix got the name from an old minstrelsy/vaudeville song written in 1875. Also, an Aunt Jemima character was prominent in minstrel shows in the late 19th century. She’s always been a made-up character.
Apparently, this type of promotion was common and popular in the late 1950’s and early ’60’s. Someone posing as Aunt Jemima would visit towns and cities promoting the pancake mix and would serve pancakes to customers and “fans.” I wonder how this type of promotion would fly today. Something tells me it wouldn’t even get off the ground.
I finished eating most of my pancakes. My once in a blue moon breakfast was over. I washed the dishes I dirtied up, then put the syrup in my refrigerator. Before putting the box of pancake mix in my cupboard, I looked at that picture of Aunt Jemima on it. She doesn’t look like she used to — now she looks thinner and more modern. Times have changed. Her kerchief and apron have even disappeared.
I wish my grandparents were still alive. If they were, I’d ask them about that trip to the grocery store in Vevay, Indiana all those years ago and if they really thought Aunt Jemima was a real person. If they did, I would then ask if she was such a star and celebrity, why was she the one having to be the servant of those pancakes? I wonder what their answer would be.
CONTACT LARRY GROSS: [email protected]
