Moxie beyond New England's borders

I just found a writer who lives in Elmira, New York that's written his own ode to the virtues of Moxie.

John P. Cleary, who writes for the Star-Gazette (a Gannett paper), visits Maine each summer and when he and his family do, they make a trip to Frank Anicetti's Kennebec Fruit Co., for Moxie ice cream and to visit with the Moxie Man.

Cleary details the difficulty that Moxie lovers outside of New England struggle with in acquiring their favorite soft drink. Still, they persevere and find ways to score Moxie.

He writes,

"My wife came to love Moxie on her childhood visits to Maine, where it is the official state soft drink. We take our children on annual vacations to Bailey Island, Maine, and, each year, include a pilgrimage to Lisbon Falls, home of the Kennebec Fruit Co., the headquarters of the Moxie Universe. It's there that Frank Anicetti, the high priest of all things Moxie, holds court and sells, along with Moxie T-shirts, bumper stickers, baby clothes, clocks, blankets, and other stuff, his delicious, homemade Moxie ice cream. Lisbon Falls hosts the Moxie Days festival every July.

In New England, you can buy Moxie at almost any grocery store, but it's hard to find elsewhere. Before we leave Maine every summer, I load up our van with Moxie. I'm also lucky enough to have a brother-in-law who lives not far from Catawissa, Pa., where the Catawissa Bottling Co. has been bottling Moxie since the 1940s."

You can read the rest of Cleary's article here.

On the book front, I sent seven chapters of my manuscript to my copy editor, this morning. Things are looking good for our Moxie Festival launch.

Hillary takes my advice; goes to Gary

I've been steering clear of politics, of late. Since none of the three remaining candidates seem capable of speaking to any of the issues germane to most Americans, I've decided to tune out, until November.

I did happen to hear that Hillary stopped by Gary, Indiana, to talk with steelworkers (what few are left, from the region's heyday, as "Steeltown, USA, a moniker shared with another similar U.S. city, Youngstown, Ohio). It made me reflect back to last year, right about at this time, when I spent a week near Gary and visited the city a couple of times. I wasn't there for a photo op and I actually did it without a security detail.

I wrote about it and Counterpunch published my "fantasy" debate piece. You can read it here, if you happened to miss it.

In retrospect, I think I "nailed" the candidates fairly well, with my handicap.

Regional drinks like Moxie: Cheerwine

I'm officially "off" today, from my daytime gig. But like Monday's "holiday," my non-paid work time is taken up with Moxietown and stories of Moxie. My deadline's tight, but I can see some light up ahead, I think?

I've been at my keyboard since about 6:00 am, transcribing my interview with Justin Conroy, from Cornucopia. He happened to mention a similar, regional brand of soft drink, called Cheerwine, which turned 90, last year. Time to take a "break" and get up a blog post.



A southern regional phenomenom, like Moxie, this burgundy colored drink is said to possess a distinctive cherry taste. It's available throughout the southeastern United States, from West Virginia, south to Georgia.

What I found interesting when I Googled "Cheerwine," was the product's website. They've taken a local news motif and made it their own, with "stories," sightings and their very own blog (although someone needs to learn that blogging requires periodic updates; your last post is from July 2007!). Nice work on the marketing side.

Personally, I don't know if this would work for Moxie. IMHO, Moxie's lure is Frank Anicetti's store, his aversion to technology and the NEMC's fixation with memorabilia that belongs to the previous century.

Patriots' Day is for....Moxie?

Patriots' Day is a New England holiday. To my way of thinking, it's always been about the traditional 11:00 AM Sox' game and of course, the Boston Marathon.

As for the actual holiday portion, I've been on both sides of the equation. Some years (depending on my employer), I had to work. Other years (like this year), I officially had the day off.

Actully, today was a working holiday. I took the opportunity to use my "free" day to gather more Moxie material, taking a trip to Bedford (near Manchester). What's in Manchester? Well Cornucopia Bottling (a division of Coca-Cola of Northern New England, whose parent is Kirin Beer of Japan), of course, the Bedford-based owner of the Moxie brand.

[Frank and I having fun during a recent photo shoot (GGoodman photo)]

Moxie's roots are in New England and that's where one is most likely to find the unique drink, fueled by the curative qualities of gentian root. When Moxie was acquired by Atlanta-based Monarch Beverages Company, many hard-core Moxie fans felt the brand was languishing and becoming harder to find, even in New England. Cornucopia's acquistion of Moxie has been viewed favorably, thus far, by Moxie people.

I met with Justin Conroy, Cornucopia's brand manager, in order to interview him about Cornucopia's decision to bring Moxie back home, to New England.

After meeting with Conroy, I headed across town to meet with Merrill Lewis, president of the New England Moxie Congress. The NEMC is the "fan club" of Moxie and according to their website, they are "a loosely-knit band of Moxie zealots and fellow travelers who collect Moxie-related memorabilia, promote the drink's availability, get together for parades and clambakes, and some who actually drink the stuff."

Merrill's a knowledgeable guy and a gracious host. He answered my questions and then brought me into his own Moxie "shrine" of collectibles.

[This is the House of Moxie, but we just know it as Kennebec's (GGoodman photo)]

When one writes research-driven books, like I do, the tendency is to become one with the material. Over a period of months, you begin to see how your research fits together. I suppose you could say you even become a bit "protective" of your subject and the people you get close to, during the course of your research.

A week before my own photo shoot at Kennebec Fruit Company, aka Kennebec's (to the locals), or "The House of Moxie" to Moxie true-believers, Down East Magazine sent a couple of filmmakers to visit with Frank Anicetti, Moxie's most endearing spokesman and the star of the annual Moxie Festival, in July.

I'm not a fan of Down East and I thought that the filmmakers, particularly Russell Kaye, came across as a bit condescending to Anicetti. Maybe that's my own bias at work. View the video and let me know what you think. Either way, you 'gotta love Frank! Also, no one that I know refers to Frank's as "The Moxie Museum." Please get it right (see above)! Oh, and the "dusty" quality of the place is part of its charm.

I've always felt that Down East tends to represent a mythology of Maine that does the state a disservice. Certainly, you can find writers/filmmakers and others that capture Maine realistically, not the "Maine is for tourists" way that Down East and others regularly and dishonestly (in my opinion) portray the state.

I'm on an unrealistic timeline to get Moxietown to press, but I think people are going to enjoy the finished product.

The writer's journey

Back in late 2003, I was working in the brand of corporate hell and “cube farm” that spawned Scott Adams’ Dilbert empire. During that period of darkness, I began to get serious about writing. Spurred on by Stephen King’s admonition in On Writing, to write, I took his advice literally. Who was I to argue with his success? If he said “write,” then write I would.

It’s been a slow, uphill slog. Like Sisyphus, pushing his rock up upwards, there have been times during the past five years that I thought the stone would turn and crush me. More times than I care to admit, I wanted to pack it in, lick my wounds and use terms that I hear a lot from those with a fraction of my output; “writer’s block,” or, “I’m struggling to locate my muse.” When you find her, let me know, ok?

Lo and behold, an adage my mother used to use on me—nothing worth having, comes without pain and sacrifice—has become one of my mantras.

When I’m up before dawn, while other “aspiring” writers are still sleeping soundly, or banging away at my laptop, long after the Red Sox radio post game is over, writing is a lonely pursuit.

Occasionally, I’ll be somewhere and a spark of recognition occurs; someone connects my name with my first book, When Towns Had Teams. It’s rare, but once in a great while, someone I meet has read the book and they’ll say really kind and thoughtful things, like “I read your book and loved it,” or the other day, I met someone in Maine that I’ve watched from afar; I’ve been given an opportunity to partner with this person and she happened to mention to her husband that she had met the author of “the baseball book” that he loved; she emailed me and mentioned that he was impressed. These are little things, but everyone craves respect and even a little recognition, now and again.

Forgive me for sounding so self-indulgent, but when you are a writer whose next book will never be a bestseller and will sell a couple thousand titles (if wildly successful), sometimes navel gazing is all you have at times.

Actually, I began this post to say that considering where I started, five years ago, I’ve made steady progress. I’m finally beginning to access the networks and the people that I wanted to connect with, but wasn’t ready, or proven enough to warrant their attention. All that seems to be changing, which brings me back to the recognition that I sometimes am too impatient; I need to be more cognizant that good things take time.

Yesterday afternoon, I met with a group of people that I used to daydream about sitting down with. Even more improbably, they were asking me questions, tapping the wisdom, knowledge and skills that only come experientially, if you pay attention along life's crooked journey.

Life is humbling at times. Some of us are late bloomers and take a circuitous route to where we want to go. During our sojourn, we face struggles and trials that test our mettle. But like silver's need to purge its dross, these tough times only reveal the purities inherent in who we are.

One of the advantages of pushing through the tough times and believing in yourself when only one or two others do, is that eventually, you arrive at a place where your experiences resonate with others, because you're not talking theory, but are plugged into some deeper truths.

My own experiences grant me credibility and a hearing with many of the people I work with. In turn, it helps them have a willingness to take the next step they need to in their lives, towards realizing their own unique potential. When they understand that I didn’t have it all figured out and that I wasn’t born with a silver spoon and special advantages, they connect with my transparency. When I ask them to be willing to take the challenge to struggle and persevere, these aren’t empty words. They’re truths forged in the various furnaces of my own life's experience.