In-N-Out Burger (18 page)

 

While In-N-Out's profile rose considerably, the Snyders remained guarded, at least publicly. Rich clearly saw the importance of press coverage, but stayed somewhat wary of the media. The chain adamantly
refused to discuss its operating strategies or sales figures, hewing literally to the meaning of the phrase “private, family-owned company.” Unlike the owners of many other successful businesses, the Snyders did not relish the idea of having their portrait on the cover of
Fortune
magazine or their benchmarks featured in the
Wall Street Journal
. Perhaps naively, the chain did not want to come across as if it were actually seeking publicity.

Indeed, in an increasingly solipsistic industry, In-N-Out remained the exception and not the rule. Take the example of Dave Thomas, the founder of Wendy's Old-Fashioned Hamburgers (and a former Kentucky Fried Chicken franchisee). Starting at the tail end of the 1980s, Thomas became his chain's TV pitchman. After appearing in over eight hundred commercials between 1989 and 2002, Dave Thomas became a household name. At one point, Wendy's conducted a survey, the results of which claimed that 90 percent of all Americans knew who Thomas was—more than could identify the prime minister of England. But back in California, there were few who couldn't recognize the tell-tale symbols of In-N-Out. In fact, although “In-N-Out” is not printed on the chain's beverage cups, one would be hard-pressed to find a Californian who couldn't recognize the brand from the red silhouetted palm tree design.

Rich, who had earlier posed for
Forbes
with a big smile on his face and a Double-Double in his hand, later was said to have had misgivings about the display. Specifically, in a world in which McDonald's proudly announced to the world that it had sold “billions of burgers,” the magazine reported that In-N-Out sold fifty-two thousand burgers per month. It was a slip Rich quickly came to regret. A year earlier, in 1988, he had told the
San Gabriel Valley Tribune
, that he hoped to sell 27 million burgers in 1989. In retrospect, Rich thought it smacked of braggadocio and, perhaps worse, it made In-N-Out Burger sound like every other fast-food place. In the future, there would be scant public mention of how many burgers In-N-Out had sold.

As the years wore on, the family retreated further from the spotlight. Increasingly, they pushed Carl Van Fleet, the vice president of operations, into the role of In-N-Out's spokesperson. It was a posi
tion that mostly consisted of offering firm but polite “no comments” and other genial but equally opaque statements. On occasion, Rich broke his press silence—however, this happened infrequently. Esther Snyder was rarely (if ever) heard from publicly when it came to discussing the chain, and Guy Snyder even less.

In describing the chain's rather cool attitude toward publicity, Carl Van Fleet once explained, “We aren't striving to become a household name.”

Although it was most likely unintentional, this enigmatic quality added a definite layer of intrigue to the chain. It was a lesson the Snyders took to heart. As In-N-Out's onetime chief financial officer Steve Tanner once said, “If you have to tell somebody you're something, you're probably not.”

As In-N-Out Burger continued to grow and prosper, Rich found himself turning closer toward religion. He had come to the conclusion that God was behind the success of his business and religious devotion was the way to a better world. For him, business, religion, and politics overlapped. Already a believer, personal events had increasingly propelled him further toward religion. Harry's illness was a seminal event. Earlier, while traveling by plane with his father from Mexico where Harry was receiving treatment for his lung cancer, Rich prayed with him to receive Jesus. Then sometime around 1983, Rich was born again as a Christian. “He gave his life to the Lord,” explained his cousin Bob Meserve, “and everything turned around from that point forward.”

It was a slightly different spiritual orientation from the one that existed in the Snyder home while Rich and Guy were growing up. Although Harry held to traditional values, he didn't seem to feel much of a need for organized religion. As Harry's cancer progressed, however, he too had become more religious. According to his nephew, “On his death bed, he received the Lord.”

Raised as a Free Methodist, Esther always maintained a deep and abiding faith. She believed that religion was a private and personal affair. Said to almost always carry a Bible with her, Esther didn't care what religion others espoused and she didn't always attend church,
but she did believe in God. While interviewing his mother for a home movie about her life, at one point Rich asked Esther what her favorite subject in school was, to which she replied “science.” Rich, who was off-camera, seemed startled by her answer. Retorting with some incredulity, he remarked, “You believe in God and you still enjoyed science?” Looking straight into the camera, her eyes widening, Esther barely hesitated. “Sure,” she replied. “Even Darwin believed.”

For his part, Guy Snyder considered himself to be a Christian at heart, although spiritual salvation just wasn't central to his life—but when he traveled, he liked to visit different churches. The brothers' differing levels of religious commitment and faith was just one more line of separation that pushed them ever further apart.

It was during this period that Rich became actively involved in the Calvary Chapel of Costa Mesa in Orange County. One of the first mega-churches, Calvary had grown from humble beginnings. It began in 1965 as a congregation of about twenty-five parishioners who met in a mobile home after its founder, Pastor Chuck Smith, broke away from the International Church of the Foursquare Gospel in Santa Ana.

Smith was a leading figure in the grassroots “Jesus Movement.” Known to some as the “Jesus Freaks,” members belonged to a religious revival born out of the hippie counterculture of the late 1960s. The movement got its start in a storefront in San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury district called the “Living Room” and spread quickly. Down in Orange County, Smith's early outreach to hippies spurred thousands to flock to his church. As it turned out, the Jesus Movement became a spawning ground for what was to become another Christian phenomenon: the evangelical mega-church.

By the time that Rich became involved, the Calvary Chapel had developed into a global ministry claiming thousands of conversions. In time, the Calvary Chapel would boast over one thousand congregations as well as a television and audio ministry.

As his involvement in the church deepened, Rich's faith moved to the center stage of his life, permeating every aspect of it. “What is important to know about Rich,” exclaimed Jack Williams, “is that
he loved the Lord. The entire foundation of In-N-Out was built on Christian values. He didn't push Christ down anybody's throat, but he lived it and talked it twenty-four/seven.”

 

It was a heady time for Rich Snyder. For him, the 1980s were a period of extremes. Rich had invested considerable energy in building up the family business. His personal life, however, did not seem to match his business success. His weight continued to fluctuate. When the stress got to him, he harbored a secret desire to open a hardware shop in Phoenix. Approaching his thirties, Rich remained single. One of his greatest desires was to marry and start a family of his own. While a number of women expressed interest, Rich found that most of it stemmed from the fact that he was president of In-N-Out Burger; the experience left him feeling empty. Although those close to Rich described him as chronically upbeat, he had also quietly undergone what he considered to be a set of personal trials and tribulations—and those he kept close to the vest.

Privately, Rich found solace in helping others. He remained in the lives of Kim Stites and her daughter, Meredith, who was just nine days old when her father, Wilbur, died. She called him Uncle Richie. Every Sunday, the families had dinner together, and each December Rich took Meredith on a special adventure to pick out a Christmas tree. Frequently (and often unannounced), Rich could be found visiting homeless shelters where he personally passed out blankets and other supplies. Without any kind of public announcement (and without the knowledge of his family or even the top circle at In-N-Out), Rich donated his own money to help build a chapel at the Union Rescue Mission. Located in downtown Los Angeles's Skid Row, the Mission had aided poor and homeless families since its founding in 1891 by Lyman Stewart, the president and founder of the Union Oil Company.

Even though he had none of his own, Rich had become particularly concerned with helping children. For him, it was almost a crusade—it came from his belief that improving the lives of children was the cornerstone to creating a better society. And Rich looked to fund outlets
that shared his desire to help, supporting several groups that aided victims of child abuse, organizing several fund-raisers. He was said to have donated thousands of dollars to the Make-A-Wish Foundation, the organization that granted wishes to terminally ill children.

Esther Snyder shared her son's feelings. For years, she had been actively involved in supporting the Boys and Girls Clubs of America—an organization that provided children across the country with a host of educational and recreational programs—giving the group tens of thousands of dollars. She also sat on the board of the club's Baldwin Park branch. Bob Benbow, who sat on the board with Esther for a number of years starting in the 1970s, recalled how she believed sincerely that it was important to give back. “She felt blessed,” said Benbow, an avuncular Texas transplant who arrived in Baldwin Park in 1961 to teach high school. “She had so much empathy. She was here during those days when there were so many young people living in the trailer camps. They were mostly migrants. She wanted to help.” As always, Esther was quick to donate money when asked or to supply In-N-Out burgers for any number of charitable events. “She helped in any way she could. One time she gave us $50,000 in one whack.”

With the continued success of In-N-Out and their own personal convictions, Esther and Rich decided to formalize a vehicle for their own continued giving. In 1984, they established the Child Abuse Fund specifically to raise awareness of and channel funds to abused and disadvantaged children in the cities and counties where In-N-Out Burger did business. The foundation launched with a storewide, month-long charity drive that became an annual event. Each April, canisters were placed in all of the chain's stores so that customers could contribute small bills and coins, with In-N-Out matching the funds up to $100,000 (later the company increased the amount of matching funds to $200,000).

Two years after the launch, on June 6, 1986, a photograph in the
San Gabriel Valley Tribune
showed a beaming Rich (in his customary suit and tie) along with three In-N-Out Burger executives behind a table piled with cans, stuffed with $20,329.81. “Burger Promotion Aids Abused Children,” reads the headline.

Within three years, the chain's charity had grown well beyond its can collection. The Snyders added an annual golf tournament to benefit children as well. It was a huge event, usually held at a prestigious California golf club. Store managers and their associates played in teams against each other in what quickly became a widely anticipated activity. There were large sponsorships, a dinner and auction at the end of the day, and huge prizes. Over the years, the fund distributed millions of dollars.

In addition to In-N-Out's reputation for juicy burgers, the chain was earning the respect and admiration of the numerous civic and social groups that benefited from its largesse. They became good corporate citizens in each community where a new store opened. They regularly sent associates to pick up the In-N-Out trash that littered neighborhood streets and sidewalks. They sent cookout trailers to feed lines of firemen battling fires, offering assistance during times of need in myriad ways. And In-N-Out contributed greatly to a number of police and California Highway Patrol charities, especially those that helped the families of officers killed in the line of duty. Law enforcement held both In-N-Out and its burgers in high regard. Esther, who like Guy had a taste for speed, loved cruising down the highway. She said that the police viewed her with grandmotherly affection and kept an eye on her. Esther giggled to family and friends that despite her lead foot, she almost never received a speeding ticket.

 

Not long after Rich announced his deep commitment to Christianity, he had Bible verses printed on In-N-Out's packaging. Discreetly tucked inside the rim on the bottom of the soda pop cups, it said simply: “John 3:16” (“For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son”). Shortly thereafter, other verses cropped up unannounced on milk shake cups “Proverbs 3:5” (“Trust in the Lord with all Thine heart”); hamburger and cheeseburger paper wrappers “Revelation 3:20” (“Behold, I stand at the door and knock”); and on Double-Double wrappers “Nahum 1:7” (“The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble”).

The unusual marketing move was received with a combination of criticism, applause, and outright disbelief. Mixing business and religion also fueled a host of urban myths about the chain, the most common (and enduring) being that a Christian sect owned In-N-Out.
^*
Despite the rampant speculation, the truth was straightforward; Rich decided to print the verses in an effort to share his faith through mass culture. “Hamburgers are so popular,” was how Chuck Smith Sr., Calvary Chapel's founding minister, explained Rich's reasoning. “He thought it was a great way to awaken people to the fact that the Bible is relevant and has the answers to today's problems.”

Around 1991, a few years after he first printed the Bible verses, Rich decided to broadcast a message of salvation on Los Angeles–area radio stations during the Christmas season. The spot opened to the familiar In-N-Out jingle, but with an orchestral rendering. A voiceover asked listeners to consider letting Jesus Christ into their lives. Although some of In-N-Out's marketing team expressed concern the move might offend the chain's non-Christian customers, Rich went forward. It wasn't his intention to upset anybody, he told them, but he had a bigger picture in mind.

Unsurprisingly, within the largely secular radio culture of Southern California, the commercial provided a short-lived holiday controversy. Some stations rejected the commercial outright, while others decided to broadcast a generic version of the spot (also provided by In-N-Out). A few stations chose to air the religious version only on Christmas day. “It gets the Christian community pretty excited seeing In-N-Out being pretty bold like that,” Roger Marsh, the general manager of KYMS-FM (a now defunct Christian station in Orange County), exclaimed at the time. His opinion was not widely shared. The ad spurred scores of calls to the burger chain. When one radio listener called to complain, telling Karen Thorton, an In-N-Out spokesperson at the time, that “not every
body that listens to you is a Christian,” she replied, “Well, that's too bad.”

Rich seemed impervious to the controversy he had created. “It would be a real drag to die and be up in front of God and have to say I refused to run this type of commercial,” he told the
Orange County Register
. “My love of Jesus is greater than my fear of what people will say.”

His faith was the prism through which Rich viewed his stewardship of In-N-Out. “This is God's company,” he said frequently, “not mine.”

 

For Rich, everything rested on values. When it came to politics, religion, and business, he saw little distinction. And it was during this period that he became actively involved in conservative politics. Rich felt that America's spiritual foundation had eroded, resulting in a host of social woes. The Reagan administration, with its emphasis on conservative social values, limited government, personal liberty, and America's destined role as the leader of the free world battling the “Evil Soviet Empire” made perfect sense to Rich. “He thought that Reagan was a great president,” John Peschong, a onetime executive director of the California Republican Party and political consultant, recalled. “He thought he was somebody that was nurturing freedom, and upheld the values that this country was founded on.”

Rich's passion for America went beyond simple patriotism; it was visceral. “He had a real love for this country,” recalled Peschong, who got to know Rich through a shared involvement in state politics. “He had a real sense of pride. It seemed to be part of his whole entrepreneurial spirit. He was successful because the country was successful and free.” Conceivably, then, it was no coincidence that during President Reagan's second term in office, Rich began printing the motto “The Best Enterprise Is a Free Enterprise ‘God Bless America'” on the company's official stationery.

Enthusiastic and filled with a deep love for Jesus, Rich was an uncommon mogul. He was dedicated to God, his family, and In-N-Out Burger. Rich felt a heartfelt responsibility to make the world a better place, and he carried that burden on his broad shoulders. It
wasn't power or gaining an edge for his company that motivated his involvement in politics, but a desire to make a significant change and his core belief that Republican Party values were the way to do that. San Clemente lawyer Ken Khachigian, a longtime party activist who had been a deputy special assistant under President Nixon and later a speechwriter for President Reagan, recalled that “Rich felt that the values espoused by the Democrats and the liberals were inimical to his own personal values and standards.”