Love to Hate It

best Halloween candy? Plenty of people jump in right off the bat with their Reeses or Snickers or kit kats, maybe sour Patch kids or gummy bears if you want something fruity me I will always remember the popcorn balls that my next door neighbor handed out each year. But how did we get here? Anyway? Where did this idea

of walking door to door for candy handouts actually come from? Well, Halloween actually originates from Sowen, an ancient Celtic harvest festival that was celebrated between October thirty first and November first. The Celts believe that the boundary between our world and the spirit world was thinnest on those days, and that residents of the nether world could cross into this one.

To you know Wreek some havoc. To bring order to that chaos, participants left offerings outside the village for any fairies, spirits, or monsters that might make an appearance. Bonfires were lit, and later during the Middle Ages, little carved turnips called jack o lanterns began cropping up to ward off evil. According to some sources, people also disguise themselves in costumes made of animal hides in an attempt to scare away those unwelcome ghostly visitors, and over time it evolved into

a practice called souling. This was when the poor folks in each community would visit the wealthy households, where they would receive little cakes in exchange for a prayer. This became a kid only experience where these children dressed up in costumes and after knocking on a door, traded a song, a poem, or a joke instead of that prayer for a snack. Modern day Halloween fully took shape in the United States, with many communities organizing group trick or treating

in the early twentieth century. The trend took a short break for World War Two, and in the baby boom that followed, many of the Halloween traditions that we know and love today became a cemented part of our culture. Among the candies that are handed out today is one that's far older than you would probably guess. In fact, one version can trace its roots all the way back to Philadelphia in the eighteen eighties. That was where a man named George Renager worked for the Wonderly Candy Company,

and he had a wild new idea. He proposed that they mold buttercream into the shape of harvest vegetables. Shapes like chestnuts, turnips, corn, and pea pods all meant to appeal to America's agricultural roots, and while all of them sounded great, the corn was the easiest shape, so that one came first. We're not sure what the original recipe was that it was probably some mixture of sticky sugar and corn syrup. Renager worked hard to perfect the candy's

recipe and its shape. His grandson later told the newspaper that his granddad threw batches of it out to the family chickens and knew that it was the perfect shape. Once the chickens started going after it. He figured if the chickens were fooled into thinking that it was real corn, he had probably nailed it in a nod to that goal.

When the Golitz Confectionery Company picked up his recipe, they marketed it as chicken feed, complete with a big rooster on the front of the box, and soon enough they were one of the largest producers of butter cream corn in the country. And they achieved that in part by using color. You see, each section of the candy was poured by hand in order to keep the colors separate

and distinct. This process involved factory workers carrying heavy buckets filled with the candy mixture, who then walked backwards along a conveyor belt full of trays. And when I say heavy, I mean it too. Some of these buckets could weigh up to two hundred pounds. Thankfully, this labor intensive corn wasn't produced year round. Part of the reason was to give the workers a rest, but it was also to create a link in the minds of the American people.

Chicken feed was meant to tap into the joys of a bountiful harvest, which later helped connect it to Halloween, but not at first. Instead, it was really supposed to be a gag, candy, a joke, a novelty. You see the name chicken feed was pretty literal. Most Americans saw corn as food for livestock and not people. It wasn't until after World War One that people started eating the vegetable in the same way that we do today, and

even then it was mostly out of necessity. As a result, Golits could barely keep the boxes on the shelves in an era before machine automation. It was hard to meet demand. Thanks to modern mechanization, though, their production hit a new high in the nineteen fifties, and along the way they realized that that old agricultural root of their candy had faded into the past. A new name was needed for their delicious treat, and it was eventually rebranded for the

modern world. The bright colors and a catchy new name help the candy secure its spot as a staple of Halloween, and there it remains to this day. Sure it might be one of the most divisive candies in America and have a shelf life longer than a Twinkie, but you have to admit Halloween just wouldn't be the same without candy corn. Here's the story you probably think you know.

A family suffers an unspeakable tragedy. The oldest son, a handsome, charismatic young man of nineteen, is killed in a horrific motorcycle accident. His injuries are so severe the emergency responders won't even let his parents see the body before he's pronounced dead. Over the next three days, they go through the harrowing task of laying their son to rest. The night after the funeral, they lie awake feeling like they're

the ones whose lives are over. But the next morning, the sun rises and there's still so much to do, like filing a claim on their son's life insurance policy, which will hopefully cover the burial expenses. Filling out the paperwork is painful, but at least it should be straightforward, or so they think. So the claim winds up on the desk of an insurance inspector who spends his morning

reading over the details. The nineteen year old motorcyclist's name was Angelo Hayes, from a small village in southern France. His accident occurred on September first of nineteen thirty seven, and it's unclear if he was speeding or driving recklessly, but he wound up crashing headfirst into a brick wall medical experts pronounced him dead, and he was buried three days later. It all seems pretty cut and dried, except

for one troubling detail. Angelo's father took out the life insurance policy worth two hundred thousand francs right for the young man's death. If your foul play alarms are blaring, you're not alone. The insurance inspector finds this very suspicious, to the point that he questions whether Angelo's death was an accident at all. There's only one way to find out for certain. The inspector gets approval to exhume the

body and heads out to the cemetery. By this point, five days have passed since the crash, and Angelo has been in the ground for three. But when the coffin is dug up and open, there is no stink of rotting flesh. Angelo's in there, though, and his injury seem to confirm the official story. His skull is cracked and his face is so damaged he's barely recognizable. Still, the inspector can feel that there's something wrong here, so he keeps searching, and then he finds it, not evidence of murder,

but something even more alarming. A heartbeat. Angelo Hayes is alive. He's unconscious and his breathing is incredibly shallow, but he's got a pulse. The inspector can't believe it, and he immediately calls for help. Angelo is lifted from the grave and rushed to the hospital, where medical experts try to piece together what happened. It doesn't take long to work out a leading theory. It seems that the motorcycle crash

that fractured Angelo's skull put him into a coma. This caused many of his bodily functions to shut down, making him appear dead. Remember this was nineteen thirty seven, not twenty twenty. His heartbeat was so faint that even the doctors missed it. This also explains how he's lasted so long. Underground coffins typically hold enough oxygen for five to six hours, but Angelo's breathing was so low that that small amount of air lasted him for two whole days. Although he

probably wouldn't have made it much longer. If the insurance inspect hadn't come along right when he did, Angelo really would have been dead. It feels like a miracle, and with medical care, Angelo soon wakes up. He goes through the extensive procedures to treat his injuries and even makes a full recovery, needless to say, and some of those parents are overjoyed to have their son back, and Angelo is grateful to be alive and winds up profiting from

the experience. His story spreads to the point that he becomes a minor celebrity in France. Meanwhile, the insurance inspector gets to go home a hero. He rescued a young man, reunited a family, and saved his company from paying out death benefits worth two hundred thousand francs. It just goes to show you that you don't always know where someone's story is heading, and sometimes everyone wins. I hope you've

enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me Aaron Mankey in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the World of Lore dot com. And until next time, stay curious. H