Readers were into Taste for more than just the stories and recipes. The lengthy supermarket ads quickly grew into a major draw. Here's a typical two-page Red Owl spread.

By Rick Nelson

Take an even cursory glance through 1971 editions of Taste, and one element leaps right off the pages.

It's the ads. Pages and pages and pages of supermarket ads, from Holiday Village, Red Owl, PIggly Wiggly, National, Del Farms, Supervalu and more (Country Club, Kroger, Zayre's and others began to appear later). Following its debut on Oct. 1, 1969, Taste quickly developed into the place where Twin Cities shoppers could turn to every week and clip coupons, compare prices and compile their shopping lists (not to mention a gusher of a previously untapped revenue stream for the newspaper's owners).

As 1971 progresses, the section grows thicker with ads (seriously, the words "publisher's cash cow" come to mind), which meant that editor Beverly Kees and her staff were given more space for stories; this chicken-egg relationship reached its apex shortly before Thanksgiving of that year, when Taste weighed in at a whopping 44 pages, divided into two sections and jammed full of advertisements (not to mention 38 stories and 138 recipes).

For a little perspective, the entire Star Tribune clocked in at 44 pages this past Tuesday, September 29th.

The Piggly Wiggly price barrage, circa 1971. Yes, bananas were 9 cents per pound.

Turn the page, and National/Del Farms continues with the price wars. Note that bananas were 7 cents per pound.

One store that took a shot at differentiating itself from the pack was Byerly Foods. A large ad, published near the end of the year, shows a drawing of Don Byerly's Golden Valley emporium as if it existed on a desert island, surrounded by signs in the water that read, "20% off on most everything!" "Stamps, games and gimmicks!" "Price Revolutions" and "Loss Leader Specials."

The headline under the drawing says, "There are so many conflicting grocery price claims going on that we're publishing this statement as a public service to "tell it like it is" to Twin City homemakers." The text then goes on to say, "Seldom if ever has there been such a confusing barrage of food-price propaganda directed at the homemaker. In order to set the record straight, we'd like to point out that, since we started business three years ago, Byerly has lowered prices immediately whenever wholesale prices were reduced. We've raised prices only when wholesale price increases forced us to. And we haven't flip-flopped on the trading stamp issue. We've never had stamps and we never will because they're one of the 'extras' that raise the price of food."

In the era's all-about-price advertising smackdown, it's an ad that certainly stands out.

Banana price-mania wasn't on Byerly Foods' marketing plan. In 1971, Don Byerly's upscale supermarket had locations in Golden Valley and St. Paul.

When grocer Don Byerly opened his second Byerly Foods opened on Suburban Av. in St. Paul in early 1971, Taste staffer Judith Bell dropped in:

"Soft music, carpeting underfoot, delicious aromas and subdued lighting indicate you are in a restaurant or bar, right?" Bell wrote. "Could be, but these characteristics are part of Byerly's East . . . this 'food center' (as it has been dubbed) has a host of new customer conveniences." The extras included: two full-time home economists and their own test kitchen, an in-store restaurant (serving "even breakfast"), a flower market, an ice cream cone stand, a deli (serving "items ranging from baked beans to stuffed rock cornish game hens"), and Gastronomique, a cookware shop operated by the store and 118 East, a Minneapolis tabletop shop. "Byerly is also aware of the physical limitations of most of his women customers," wrote Bell. "He has kept his shelf level lower than most supermarkets and uses a high-level style shopping cart to eliminate unnecessary bending and lifting by his customers. Shoppers don't even have to lift the groceries to the check stand as the cart was designed to glide through the checking aisles."

Another ad that caught my attention was from Red Owl (or, as we referred to it at our house, the Dirty Bird). It was the typical two-page spread, and on the right-hand page, inside a black-lined box, was the following message: "Attention: Cigarette smokers! Red Owl Cigarette prices will remain at current retails under our present inventory is depleted. Save 50 cents per carton while this supply lasts. Anticipating the increased cigarette tax, alert Red Owl buyers purchased ample supplies of the following popular brand cigarettes [and then lists them]. They are currently $3.78 per carton, but the price will increase to $4.28 carton when the stock is depleted."

I'm not a smoker, but I'm guessing that the price-per-carton has increased a tad during the intervening 38 years.