Dead in Pa: Heinz

This is a post on condiments.

Searching for "recipes ketchup" brings back 1,110,000 results on google. That's just the things that people put ketchup IN, not counting what we slather ketchup on (and let's face it, mayo on French Fries is considered positively unAmerican). The man who brought ketchup to the masses was born 165 years ago today. Named Henry James Heinz, he started out peddling vegetables off of a cart in Sharpsburg. Soon, he had formed a horseradish company. It went bankrupt. I'm not surprised. Horseradish isn't exactly a crowd pleaser.

He tried again, forming F & J Heinz company. The F and the J were the initials of his brother and cousin. This time, they made and sold all sorts of condiments, with ketchup becoming a best seller. The 57 varieties thing is pretty much nonsense, for the record. Heinz just liked the sound of the phrase.
Today, the Heinz bottle is instantly recognizable, with an almost Warhol-like pop culture appeal with the arched logo in the keystone shaped label. Their headquarters are still in Pittsburgh, and they are the third major employer there.
Henry James's grave is in Pittsburgh, a marble masoleum with iron work that has the sort of turn of the century elite overcompensation you'd expect.
Although I'd love to say there is a hidden tomato or relish bottle in the architecture, it's pretty standard, sadly.