Serial Searchers

Kids of all ages have always looked for the prize in the cereal box. Kelloggʼs took the concept to a new level in 1970, inserting 3-D baseball cards in specially-marked boxes of cereal. And it worked ... for that year and the next 13 after.

- Mike Payne

IN 1970, I was in love. She had blonde hair, a pretty face and she had the coolest name in our fourthgrade class: Jan Joppe.

All of that was great. But what really attracted me to Jan Joppe were her baseball cards. And in terms of baseball cards, she had the goods: She had still-in-the-white-pack Kellogg’s 3-D cards. And she had a bunch of them she would bring to school to trade or giveaway to snarky, swarmy little kids like me. These 3-D cards were nothing like my little collecting cartel had ever seen.

Maybe it was because I was one of the few who didn’t refer to her as Jan “Sloppy” or Janis Joplin, but I could sense that young Ms. Joppe took an interest in me. And hey, if it netted me a handful of 1970s Kellogg’s cards, who was I to turn away from the admiring looks and notes written in Jan’s distinctive cursive being discreetly passed my way from near the middle of the classroom?

THIS WAS AT

Westlake Elementary School in Battle Creek, Michigan. Battle Creek, known by many as the Cereal City, was home to both Kellogg’s and Post Cereals. The two competitors for our morning bowl of assorted-flavored flakes were separated by just a couple of miles of Battle Creek industry. I used to smell cereal waffing through the air at the early-morning bus stop. That was great other than on the rare days when the dog chow scent emanating from Ralston-Purina buried the sweet, sugary smell.

In 1970, I was a Kellogg’s guy because they had baseball cards in their Corn Flakes product.

And Jan Joppe’s mom worked at Kellogg’s.