Speaker A
[Music] Dennis Hurley is in one of the meanest businesses on Earth. Welcome to the Jungle. It's the ice cream business. You know, on the outside, it's fun. It's ice cream. Everybody loves ice cream. It's sweet, it's kids, it's happiness. The reality of the business side of ice cream is it's one of the dirtiest businesses there is. His family created the Mighty Haanas, the biggest luxury ice cream in the world. His father Kevin ran the company. Haanas was a steamroller. It was just going and whatever was in its path, it took care of. When two hippie ice cream makers tried to take on the might of the empire, they were sucked into a David and Goliath battle for survival. I think what Haanas was trying to do was illegal, and the question was would a small company like Ben and Jerry be able to fight them? This is a war. This isn't about friendships. It's not about respect. You know, respect are the guys who ultimately win. [Music] The upstarts met at school 35 years ago in New York. Ben and I were not really in the mainstream of social activities in school. We were not cool kids. We were the nerdy kids. After school, they grew beards, moved into an apartment with their dog Malcolm, and got a succession of dead-end jobs. I think we were the only two of our friends that did not appear to be getting anywhere in the world, so to speak. So, I thought, well, maybe I could try starting my own business, and maybe I could do it with Jerry. United by a love of food, the hippies agreed the best conceivable business was one that involves a great deal of eating. The two big things that were happening in food at the time were homemade ice cream and bagels. We actually went to a used restaurant supply place and priced out equipment for making bagels, and it was $40,000, and we knew that was more money than we had, so we figured ice cream had to be cheaper. We picked ice cream. They sent off for a $5 correspondence course in ice cream making, then turned an abandoned petrol station in Burlington, Vermont, into the town's first homemade ice cream parlor. Ben and Jerry's was born. Ben and I were working there all the time, and people obviously figured out who we were, and I think people liked the ice cream, and they liked the idea that, you know, these were two regular guys opening up a little store, and they wanted to support what we were doing, so everybody came. The shop was a surprise hit and became the hangout of every fun-loving eccentric in town. It even had its own resident blues piano man, Don Rose. Jerry's was on the corner of St. Paul Street, off from Pine. Ben and Jerry's was on the corner of St. Paul Street, up from Pine. Oh, it was just the funkiest ice cream shop I ever been in, that's for sure. Ben and Jerry were just, you know, all smiles, and the ice cream was great. The people that worked there were great. You had the smell of the big kettle of hot fudge just smoldering away there behind the counter, and just the smells were just enough to put you in heaven. Ben and Jerry made every day one big party, and when the day was all done, I'm going to sing my scooper song. Yeah. The key was their unique ice cream. In a world of boring old chocolate, coffee, and vanilla, Ben and Jerry made weird flavors with lumps in nearly everything. They laid their hands on, wound up in the ice cream. Yes. Look at this. Oh, a giant salami didn't make it. Didn't make it. They were the original ice cream anarchists. This is good. United by an unwavering devotion to the chunk. That's a huge chunk. I mean, you know, you put that in your mouth, you know, in a teaspoon, and you know you got a significant percentage of the volume occupied by the teaspoon that is nut. And, you know, as opposed to, you know, this kind of [ __ ] you know, I mean, this is absurd. I mean, ice cream companies put this in ice cream and they call it peanut. No, you need a big mother peanut. How's that? That first spectacular summer, Burlington went chunk crazy. There was just one crucial flaw in their business. [Music] Plan. It's damn cold here in Burlington, Vermont, and sure enough, come the winter, nobody was buying our ice cream. We started selling to some local restaurants to try to survive, and then after we bought a truck, it was costing us more money to repair this old truck that we bought than we were making selling ice cream. That was a really rough time. Bankruptcy loomed. They managed to stay alive that winter by selling tubs of ice cream through local grocery stores, but to be a real commercial success, they'd have to start selling outside their home state. All we were thinking about was what we needed to do to keep things going. We had virtually no money. I became the salesperson for the company, and my task was to sell our ice cream to independent ice cream distributors in the neighboring states. Ben and Jerry were about to feel the chill of business reality. Lesson number one: big supermarket chains don't buy ice cream from hippies straight out of the back of pickup trucks. They use a handful of specialist distributors to get onto the shelves. Ben and Jerry would have to enlist the support of a middleman. Most distributors would view an untried product like theirs as a commercial gamble. If they couldn't be persuaded to see things differently, Ben and Jerry's dreams of expansion would just melt away. Top of their hit list was leading distributor Dennis Silva. One day I get to the yard, and there's this car out there, and the windows were all fogged up and iced up, and I say, geez, what's that car doing here? I come into my office, and later around that morning, Ben Cohen shows up, and he looked like he just gotten out of bed and slept in his clothes and so forth, and he sat in front of me, and I said, geez, Ben, how long you been here? He said, well, a little while. I was out in my car. I said, was that your car out there that was all frosted up? Yeah, that was my car. He says, I arrived here middle of the night, 4:00 in the morning, and it's the cheapest hotel I could find, so I just kind of went to sleep, and I woke up when I got real cold. I would drive there at night and get to the distributor's place and sleep in my car until my appointment the next morning. One middleman wouldn't be enough. They also needed to bag the other key New England distributor, Chuck Green. The way Ben walked in the door, when you look from a standpoint of who you'd buy ice cream from or a food product, Ben just didn't connote food. He connote that he ate a ton of food, but not that he could sell food successfully. He sat in my office, and after a few minutes, he got very comfortable and put his feet up on my desk, and he was wearing tennis sneakers. He said, do you have any coffee or anything like that? You know, I haven't eaten in about 8 or 10 hours, and Ben liked to eat, and we had, he consumed quite a bit in this little kitchen that we had, and he said, I'm not quite ready to see you yet. I'm going to eat a little bit. And even in our environment, Ben was calling the shots. Both Chuck and Dennis fell for Ben's charm and his chunks. Ben and Jerry's became the latest entrant into the so-called super premium ice cream category, a market dominated by one company with more than a 70% share of all super premium sales. The undisputed king of luxury ice cream was Haanas. [Music] Kevin Hurley was the president of Haanas. I had a woman tell me that it was better than sex with her husband. I had another woman tell me that she knew how Haanas came to the United States, that she had heard that Frank Sinatra brought it to the United States. Ian, you can argue with these people if you would. If you would say to them, look, let me tell you the real story, they wouldn't accept that Haanas was the brainchild of Kevin's father-in-law, Ruben Mattis. In 1959, he created an ice cream in his New York factory that sounded like it came from much further afield. Reuben always used to say, you want someone to notice, you take a salami and...