You’ve heard the saying. We all have. But have you ever stopped mid-toast and wondered when exactly did sliced bread become the yardstick by which we measure all genius innovation? I did. And let me tell you, the rabbit hole was crusty, fascinating, and even involved a wartime ban. Yep. Sliced bread was once illegal!
The very first loaf of pre-sliced bread was sold on July 7, 1928, at the Chillicothe Baking Company in Chillicothe, Missouri. They called their newfangled product Kleen Maid Sliced Bread and advertised it as “the greatest forward step in the baking industry since bread was wrapped.” Yeah, not so subtle, but effective. Needless to say it caught on fast.
By 1930, Wonder Bread—already a household name—began marketing pre-sliced bread nationwide. And by 1933, over eighty percent of bread sold in the U.S. came pre-sliced. In other words, folks were hooked. It was easy, tidy, and just made life better. (And if you’ve ever tried to slice a loaf evenly before coffee, you understand.)
On a side note, we used to pass by a Wonder Bread Bakery when our dad would take us to Lloyd Center, one of the first malls ever built in the United States. He would purposely slow down so we could roll down our windows and smell the wonderful scent of bread baking!
Any hoo, good ideas tend to snowball. A St. Louis baker named Gustav Papendick bought Otto’s second slicer but ran into a snag: the slices would fall apart before he could get them wrapped. He tried rubber bands. Metal pins. Probably even prayer.
Eventually, he hit on the idea of using a cardboard tray to hold the slices together long enough to wrap
Now here’s where things get… well, a little weird. In 1943, during World War II, the U.S. government imposed a ban on sliced bread! Yes, you read that right. The Secretary of Agriculture, Claude R. Wickard, thought the extra wax paper required to package sliced loaves was wasteful. So, on January 18, 1943, sliced bread was pulled from shelves.
Cue the domestic rebellion. One distraught housewife wrote a letter to The New York Times, pleading her case:
“Without ready-sliced bread I must do the slicing for toast—two pieces for each one—that's ten. For their lunches I must cut by hand at least twenty slices, for two sandwiches apiece. Afterward I make my own toast. Twenty-two slices of bread to be cut in a hurry!” Egads, that's a lot of slicing! Fortunately, the backlash was swift and loud. By March 8, just 49 days later, the ban was rescinded. Turns out, the conservation benefit wasn’t nearly as significant as the inconvenience caused. Apparently, the greatest thing since sliced bread really was sliced bread.
Then, slicing went global. Britain got its first slicing and wrapping machine in 1937, at the Wonderloaf Bakery in London. By the 1950s, eighty percent of the bread in the UK was pre-sliced. Ireland calls it “sliced pan,” and the loaves are wrapped in waxed paper like a proper gift.
And if you want to start an international debate, ask folks what the proper thickness of a bread slice should be. In Japan, they label loaves by how many slices they’re cut into: 4, 6, 8, or 10. (The higher the number, the thinner the slice.) In Canada and the U.S., Texas Toast laughs in thick-sliced superiority. And in Australia, you’ve got “toast,” “sandwich,” and the occasional “cafĂ©” thickness to choose from.So the next time you hear someone say, “It’s the best thing since sliced bread,” tip your hat to Otto Rohwedder. The man took a simple concept—cutting bread—and turned it into a revolution of convenience, consumption, and marketing magic.
Not bad for a guy from Iowa with a fire-singed dream. Now, if you’ll excuse me, all this talk of bread has me eyeing the toaster. And maybe a little jam. Or butter. Or both. Definitely both. No wait! Where's my peanut butter?
Until next time,
Kit Morgan















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