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Although fire goes back to the dawn of man on this planet, matches and their convenience date back to 1827. English druggist John Walker marketed a sulfur tipped splint called a "Congreves." The first matches were explosive in nature and unpredictably dangerous to handle.
Joshua Pusey, a Philadelphia lawyer and patent attorney, is credited with the first matchbook in 1889. With matches, made originally for his personal use, this Philadelphia lawyer parleyed the patent rights to Diamond Match Co. for $4,000 in 1896. Pusey probably cut the first matchbook from a cardboard-like material with a pair of office shears. On a small wood stove, he boiled up the original volatile formula for the match head and striking surface mixture.
Pusey christened his invention "flexibles"; however, no records exist as to the number of match sticks in that first book. By most accounts, it was either 20 or 50. After the announcement of his novel invention toward the end of 1892,
Pusey spent the next 36 months defending it in various lawsuits. As great inventions often embark, others had been working on the matchbook idea at the same time. Being an inventor and not a fighter, he was relieved after winning the patent battle and quickly accepted Diamond's offer. Included with that settlement was a job offer. Pusey remained with Diamond until his death twenty years later. Even though another company fabricated limited matchbooks prior to 1896, Diamond's market share and domination of the American match industry catapulted Pusey's invention into worldwide recognition. The earliest known commercial advertising on matchbooks was whimsically created in 1895 and distributed with the compliments of the Mendelson Opera Company. The ad from the only surviving example of this early commercial pursuit read, "A cyclone of fun - powerful caste - pretty girls - handsome ward-robe - get seats early." On the front appeared a pasted-on photo of the star of this comic organization, Thomas Lowden, a trombonist immortalized with the edict "America's Youngest Operatic Comedian."
The opera company purchased severa1 boxes of blank matchbooks (about 100) from Diamond Match and cast members would sit up at night, pasting photos and writing primitive ad slogans on the matchbooks. Phrases, accolades and elaborate suggestions must have filled the Mendelson Opera dressing room. It is conceivable that different cast members, all designing their own matchbooks, would easily have used the same vernacular and colloquialisms. Its owner, The Franklin Mint, today insures the sole remaining example of that night's festivities for $25,000.
Barberton, Ohio became the site of the first Diamond matchbook factory. The decision was made to start from scratch and not metamorphose one of their already busy wooden stick factories for this new "experimental" venture. The 1895 production figures exceeded 150,000 matchbooks a day. Diamond's objective was to produce a quality matchbook for sale to the public (not given freely as was traditional fifty years later). The first Diamond matchbooks assembled were a dangerous and flimsy novelty. For that reason, they were conspicuously devoid of advertising.
The new Diamond matchbook department of 1896 was the black sheep of a thriving and affluent business. In the early days at the Barberton plant, Diamond turned the matchbook division over to a spirited and highly motivated young salesman named Henry C. Traute. "What to do with it now?" Traute might have pondered, but not for long.
His marketing genius and interest in the industry soon propelled him to the top of his trade and, later, to a promotion to vice president at Diamond. Initially, he persuaded upper management to reduce the original Pusey design (striker inside) from a potentially explosive contrivance, to a more calming and capable tool for lighting. After placing the striker on the outside, he lobbied to further protect the customer, insisting that the phrase "Close cover before striking" be included on the front flap. The modern matchbook was taking shape under the tutorial of this far-sighted and ambitious young salesman.
Traute needed clout for his new matchbook division. Targeting big business, he started in Milwaukee and the Pabst Brewery. This relatively small order was for the trifling amount of ten million matchbooks.
Each matchbook would advertise Blue Ribbon Beer. (Have you heard of this beer?) Not resting on these laurels, his next visited the Duke tobacco baron. Duke bought thirty million. Not satisfied for a moment, Traute invaded the empire of the chewing gum king, William Wrigley, and secured an order for one billion matchbooks, each advertising Wrigley's Chewing Gum. (Had any lately?)
As an offshoot of Traute's vigorous sales initiative, the competition began for improved and more modern production equipment. At current production rates, the Pabst would be shipped in just over two months. Mr. Duke would have waited almost seven months, and Wrigley wouldn't have seen fulfillment of his order for over eighteen years. Traute made another giant contribution to the match industry. It is probably one of the underlying reasons why we have a hobby today. His idea was relatively simply and years ahead of its time. He envisioned a system whereby companies that produced the matchbooks would sell advertising space to various firms. This idea was significantly different from the dedicated advertising promotional matchbooks sold to Pabst, Duke and Wrigley. He wanted to make the matchbook company responsible for handling distribution around the country. Of course, assurances were made that matchcovers with whiskey advertisements didn't surface in a dry county. This keeps advertiser's costs at a minimum and Diamond received more of the revenues.
Traute's ideas worked well, and a number of other ambitious matchbook companies began production during the first twenty years of the new century.
