The Hard Pivot

Today in Tedium: It’s a pretty common thing these days for a company to make a pivot, to change up its business model midstream because of some perceived weaknesses of the original approach. Small startups do it all the time; so, too, do massive corporate giants. (May I introduce you to Meta?) But I think a big thing to keep in mind is that changing a business model in an age where the ultimate product you’re moving around is chunks of electronic data? That’s something a lot different from having to basically shift your business model from, say, selling playing cards to developing video games (as one famous hard-pivoting company, Nintendo, was famous for doing). In the spirit of thinking ambitiously, in today’s Tedium, I want to highlight a few examples of companies that made pivots so extreme that you probably would have never guessed they switched gears so drastically. — Ernie @ Tedium

The company that made this music box would soon become more famous for making vacuum cleaners.

The company that started by selling music boxes, but most people know for making vacuum cleaners

On a very basic level, you could argue that vacuum cleaners and music boxes have one important thing in common: They are designed to make noise.

But that’s where the similarities end. One makes very pretty noises. The other makes loud, grating noises. And each serves a different role in our lives.

The company Regina produced both of these things at different points in its history, with the company once having household-name status in the case of its vacuum cleaners and representing the vanguard of music boxes in its day. But the shift represents an attempt at reshaping a corporation around a product that was quickly growing in relevance.

This all starts with a man who was really into music boxes. Gustave Brachhausen, a German national who produced music boxes in his home country, moved to the U.S. in the late 1800s with his business partner, Paul Riessner, with the goal of helping to build a market for music boxes in the American market.

For decades, that’s what Brachhausen and Riessner’s company built—high-quality music boxes that could play songs using a disc-based mechanism. But over time, the corporate strategy started to change, in part because of the fact that Thomas Edison had already made music boxes obsolete thanks to his invention and marketing of the phonograph.

Brachhausen desperately looked for another model to build success, first moving to player pianos, then printing presses, then a head-on competition in the phonograph market. Eventually, he found the vacuum cleaner, which had nothing to do with music, but everything to do with Regina’s success as a corporation.

The only vacuum cleaner patent to Gustave Brachhausen’s name. (Google Patents)

In some ways, maybe it makes sense that Brachhausen moved to vacuum cleaners. After all, he was an engineer, and music boxes and vacuum cleaners both require engineering. A lot of the inventions that he created for the music box required elements such as stop mechanisms and motor mechanisms, devices which had to be built with a high degree of precision, given the fact that they were in a device as small as a music box.

But looking through his patent file, which features numerous different inventions related to disc-based music boxes, it’s nonetheless kind of bizarre to come across the final patent attached to Brachhausen’s name—a vacuum cleaner.

Talk about an identity crisis of an ad.

The shift in focus was so sudden that it created interesting challenges from a marketing standpoint. A 1910 ad that ran in House and Garden highlighted the challenge. Despite the ad focused mostly on the company’s new line of pneumatic cleaners, a small portion of the ad, in hard-to-read tiny type, seems designed to remind folks that yes, this is the same company that makes the music boxes.

Over time, Regina became a purely vacuum-driven play, and by midcentury was a household name in vacuums. Notably, in the 1990s, the company brought in Pigpen, the famously messy character from the Peanuts cartoons, to promote the company’s carpet cleaners.

The company eventually fell into merger hell, at various points being owned by Philips Electronics, Oreck, and the corporate owners of the Dirt Devil brand. But recently, the company relaunched under new corporate ownership, in case you’re in the mood for owning a vacuum developed by a corporate ancestor that started out making music boxes.

(via Worthpoint)

When your primary product turns out to be relevant to another industry: The story of Kutol Products Company

These days, the company Kutol doesn’t exactly strike one as being in a particularly exciting line of work. For one thing, it sells soap dispensers in corporate settings, something that a lot of companies admittedly do today.

But what if I were to tell you that they accidentally invented one of the most famous toys the world has ever seen? You might be surprised.

See, Kutol started as a family business in Cincinnati, and had two corporate focuses—hand cleaners, like its current corporate focus, and wallpaper cleaner.

Kutol’s popular wallpaper cleaner, before it found its true calling. (via Newspapers.com)

Wallpaper cleaner, you say? See, here was the problem. Before electricity was common, people had to heat their homes through somewhat dirtier means, such as coal. Coal brought the heat, obviously, but it also brought a bit of a mess. Wallpaper, as a result, would need cleaning to pull off the extra sediment.

(Some people still use coal today, though admittedly a lot less than did a century ago.)

Kutol was for years the dominant manufacturer of this material. But eventually, other less-messy sources of home heating became more popular, which meant that Kutol’s wallpaper cleaner would eventually become less relevant over time. (Also not helping: vinyl wallpaper, which was easier to clean.) But it turned out that wallpaper cleaner had gained a reputation of being a useful alternative to clay that could prove useful for kids.

Kay Zufall, a school teacher in New Jersey, read an article suggesting that wallpaper cleaner could be a useful tool for crafting, and tried it out with her students—to great success. Part of the reason for this is that, by design, wallpaper cleaner was not designed to stick to surfaces in the way that, say, traditional clay does. That meant that it was much more flexible and kid-friendly. And it also was made of non-toxic materials, which was another benefit of the substance.

Zufall had an inside line to Kutol—her brother-in-law, Joseph McVicker, ran Kutol, taking over from his father in the early 1950s. She suggested a re-brand of wallpaper cleaner to Play-Doh, even suggesting the name. That proved a huge success, with the company selling it under another brand name, Rainbow Crafts. Eventually, that company was purchased by Kenner, and today, Play-Doh is well-entrenched in the toy industry.

While this boring-looking company, Kutol, may be stuck selling soap all these years later, the truth of the matter is, the company quietly produced a juggernaut one that has sold roughly 3 billion cans, and is now produced by a company that started out selling textiles—Hasbro.