When America Called Tomatoes Deadly: How One Man's Public Stunt Built a Billion-Dollar Industry
When America Called Tomatoes Deadly: How One Man's Public Stunt Built a Billion-Dollar Industry
Stand in any American grocery store today and you'll see them everywhere—fresh tomatoes, canned sauce, ketchup, salsa. The average American consumes about 20 pounds of tomatoes annually, and the industry generates over $5 billion in revenue each year. But for the first 200 years of European settlement in North America, most people believed tomatoes would literally poison you to death.
The transformation from feared fruit to kitchen staple happened almost overnight, thanks to a combination of scientific ignorance, cultural prejudice, and one man's very public gamble with his own life.
The Poison Fruit Panic
When European colonists first encountered tomatoes in the Americas, they had good reason to be suspicious. Back in Europe, wealthy families had been dying mysteriously after eating tomatoes, and the fruit earned the nickname "poison apple." What they didn't realize was that the real culprit wasn't the tomato—it was their fancy pewter plates.
Rich Europeans ate off pewter dinnerware that contained high levels of lead. The acidic tomatoes would leach the lead from the plates, causing lead poisoning that often proved fatal. Poor families, who ate off wooden plates, had no such problems. But the connection between pewter and poison went unnoticed for decades.
In America, this fear took on additional cultural baggage. Many Protestant settlers viewed the bright red fruit with suspicion, associating its vibrant color with sin and temptation. The fact that tomatoes were primarily grown and eaten by Catholic Spanish and Italian immigrants only reinforced these prejudices.
By the early 1800s, most American cookbooks either ignored tomatoes entirely or included stern warnings about their dangers. Garden catalogs sold tomato plants strictly as ornamental flowers, advertising them as "beautiful but deadly."
The Salem Stunt That Changed Everything
Everything changed on September 26, 1820, when Colonel Robert Gibbon Johnson decided he'd had enough of what he considered dangerous superstition. Johnson, a farmer and politician from Salem, New Jersey, announced that he would publicly eat an entire basket of tomatoes on the courthouse steps.
Photo: Salem, New Jersey, via postersdenosregions.fr
Photo: Colonel Robert Gibbon Johnson, via www.sammyfans.com
Word of Johnson's planned "suicide" spread throughout the region. On the appointed day, nearly 2,000 people gathered to watch what many expected to be a man's final meal. A local doctor reportedly stood by, waiting to document Johnson's inevitable death throes.
Johnson climbed the courthouse steps, held up a ripe tomato, and took a large bite. The crowd gasped. He continued eating, tomato after tomato, until he had consumed the entire basket. Then he waited.
And waited.
When Johnson failed to drop dead—or even show signs of illness—the crowd erupted in amazement. Word spread quickly throughout the region: tomatoes weren't poisonous after all.
The Perfect Storm of Acceptance
Johnson's demonstration coincided with several other factors that accelerated tomato acceptance across America. Italian and other European immigrants were arriving in increasing numbers, bringing their tomato-heavy cooking traditions with them. These immigrants opened restaurants and markets in major cities, gradually exposing native-born Americans to tomato-based dishes.
The rise of canning technology in the 1850s proved equally crucial. Canned tomatoes could be safely stored and shipped across long distances, making them available year-round even in areas where fresh tomatoes couldn't grow. Companies like Campbell's built entire business models around tomato-based products.
The Civil War accelerated adoption even further. Union and Confederate armies both relied heavily on canned tomatoes as a source of nutrition that wouldn't spoil during long campaigns. Soldiers who had never eaten tomatoes before the war returned home with a taste for them.
From Pariah to Profit
By 1900, American attitudes toward tomatoes had completely reversed. Cookbook authors who had once warned against the "poison apple" now featured tomato recipes prominently. The development of pizza in American cities created massive demand for tomato sauce. The invention of ketchup turned tomatoes into a condiment that appeared on virtually every American dinner table.
The economic transformation was equally dramatic. States like California, Florida, and Ohio built massive agricultural industries around tomato production. Processing plants sprang up across the country to handle the growing demand for canned tomatoes, sauce, and paste.
Today, Americans consume more tomatoes than any other vegetable except potatoes. The tomato industry employs hundreds of thousands of workers and generates billions in economic activity annually.
The Lesson in Fear and Marketing
The tomato's journey from feared poison to beloved staple reveals how cultural prejudices can shape entire economies. For two centuries, Americans missed out on a nutritious, versatile food simply because of a misunderstanding about pewter plates and cultural bias against immigrant foods.
Johnson's courthouse demonstration shows how a single dramatic moment can overcome decades of entrenched belief. But it also took the right combination of immigration, technology, and historical events to complete the transformation.
The next time you bite into a fresh tomato or pour ketchup on your fries, remember: you're enjoying a food that most Americans once believed would kill them. Sometimes the most profitable industries are built on overcoming our deepest fears.