Brigitte Bowers: The New Bazooka Joe
Long ago, I abandoned most of the things I enjoyed when I was a kid.
I have not jumped on the beds for years and I can’t remember the last time I threw a water balloon at anyone. I feel something in my life must surely be missing as a result.
I was reminded of this sense of loss recently when my 15-year-old son, Everett, presented me with a package of 15 pieces of Bazooka Joe bubble gum. I have long enjoyed Bazooka Joe, including the enclosed comics.
It was one childhood joy I never fully surrendered, even as I began the descent into old age. But then about six months ago, I read in a fashion magazine at the supermarket checkout line that the practice of chewing gum builds up muscles in the jaw, thus making it broader. So I gave up all gum, until Everett, unaware of my new commitment to a chew-free lifestyle, gave me the package of Bazooka Joe.
I waited a day or two before indulging, but now, a week later, there is only one piece left, which I’m saving for a special occasion.
The adult in me, though, couldn’t help but wonder about the ingredients in Bazooka Joe. It turns out that Bazooka Joe bubble gum could be perceived, if you are really inclined toward positive interpretations, as a health food.
Though it boasts 4 grams of sugar in every piece and contains no protein or vitamins, it is also only 20 calories per serving and is completely free of trans fat and sodium.
The Topps Co., which has been making bubble gum for over six decades, also offers sugar-free varieties of Bazooka Joe, and an Israeli company, Elite, has a license to produce and market kosher Bazooka Joe.
The history of Bazooka Joe and his friends goes back to 1947, when Topps, then makers of regular chewing gum, ventured into the bubble gum market.
For a while, Topps sold only the gum, packaged in those post-World War II days in patriotic red, white, and blue wrappers.
But then, in 1953, Topps introduced comics into their packaging, and “Bazooka, the Atom Bubble Boy” was born.
But Atom Bubble Boy was not successful, possibly because in 1953, only eight years after the atomic bombs were dropped in Japan, the public did not want to be reminded of anything related to atomic energy.
In 1954, the comic strip was renamed “Bazooka Joe and his Gang.” Joe’s gang included Mort, who always wore a turtleneck sweater pulled up over his mouth; the pudgy Hungry Herman, often the butt of fat jokes; and Walkie-Talkie, a neighborhood mutt who could speak.
The characters and artwork were designed by Wesley Morse, a commercial artist known for his drawings of chorus girls in the 1920s and his pornographic, hand-sized comic books in the 1930s. A typical comic would feature a person of authority, such as a teacher, asking a question and receiving a dumb answer, such as in the following classic:
Teacher: “Where was the Declaration of Independence signed?”
Mort: “On the bottom!”
Obviously, Topps could not keep up such hilarity forever.
Eventually, the company modernized for a more sophisticated consumer. In the 1990s, because the idea of youthful gangs conjured negative associations, the title of the comic became “Bazooka Joe & Company.”
Later, a rapping Joe was introduced, and Joe’s new friend Metaldude replaced some of the stereotypes once seen as funny (such as Hungry Herman).
Between 2007 and 2012, Topps experienced a 48 percent drop in Bazooka Joe sales. So, once again, Bazooka Joe bubble gum was upgraded, thanks to hard work from the Manhattan advertising firm of Flint & Steel. They catapulted Bazooka Joe into the 21st century with a new, graffiti-inspired wrapper and the retirement of Bazooka Joe and his friends, who did, after all, have an unnaturally long career cracking bad jokes.
Today, open a package of Bazooka Joe gum, and inside you will find a softer gum (I still prefer the old gum, which was a little like biting into cement and gave me a feeling of accomplishment once I had chewed it into submission), and a challenge question or activity, such as the package I received with a picture of a gold-and-diamond-encrusted grill to cut out and display over my teeth. I did just that and showed my new smile to Everett, who awarded me with a smirk.
Each piece of gum also comes with a code to type in to the BazookaJoe.com website and receive a prize. My code garnered me 15 points, which I could use to build up credit toward a bigger, more tangible prize at some time in the future.
Such are the small, intermittent pleasures that make up childhood.
Brigitte Bowers is a lecturer in the Merritt Writing Program at UC Merced.
This story was originally published February 14, 2016 at 4:29 PM with the headline "Brigitte Bowers: The New Bazooka Joe."