Chivas Gin?

No, there’s no such thing. But the idea almost got me fired.

I read in Drink Spirits that they selected a Scottish gin among the best new spirits introduced at Tales of the Cocktail. Caorunn Small Batch Scottish Gin joins Hendricks as Scottish made. The brand is made from the traditional botanical mix plus distinctly Scottish botanicals.

So here’s the Chivas gin story.

When I ran new products at Seagram, as I’m sure you’ve noticed from the tequila postings, filling gaps in the portfolio was a top item on the agenda. Oh sure, we had the top seller in domestic gin but with the exception of Boodles, we did not have an imported brand to compete with Beefeater’s, Tanqueray, Bombay and others.

Our research revealed that a strong overlap in preferences existed among scotch and gin drinkers. A scotch drinker was most likely to drink gin as a second choice and vice versa.

Based on this insight and lots of concept development work, my friend Sam Ellias recommended a Chivas Gin. Before I could say a word, he quickly added that it would not be Chivas Regal Gin, but rather, a gin from Chivas Brothers. The brand would use the Chivas heritage of distilling expertise and skill and apply it to a “white goods” product. Further, his research showed that attitudes toward Chivas Regal Scotch itself improved as a result of the more contemporary gin brand idea. Trust me, at that time, Chivas Regal could use all the help it could get.

I was convinced.

At the next new products review meeting we put the idea on the table for discussion and approval to proceed to the next development stage. There was strong support but something wasn’t right. Those in the room with doctorate degrees in “Owner Anger Detection” (OAD) became uneasy. I couldn’t understand it but knew enough to drop the subject based on instinct.

But not Sam Ellias.

A number of years later when I was running marketing and he was in charge of new products, he brought up the subject of a gin by Chivas Brothers once again. Not only was the research even more compelling but he also found a name that made the product clearly by Chivas. All he wanted was a real world test market with an action standard that if this gin product failed to improve Chivas’ sales, the idea would be dropped. Reasonable.

While I still didn’t have a PHD in OAD, I had a Master’s and strong survival instincts. I approached the subject gingerly and discussed it with a family confidante/consultant to gauge the reaction. Instead of debating the merits or concerns, he must have gone to the head owner complaining about the idea.

The next thing I know, I get a poison pen email from the owner, the content of which I will never forget:

If I ever hear the words Chivas and gin used again in the same sentence, heads will roll, starting with yours.

This missive came from the same office that had pushed such brilliant new product ideas as Von Konig Silberwasser (I think it was supposed to be a vodka), Bourbon Street Bourbon (billed as a New Orleans style bourbon, whatever that is), and my personal favorite, Chivas Danu, whose relationship to scotch continues to elude me.

Despite the amused reaction from my management, who assured me not to be concerned, the dispatch rankled me and I avoided new products and Sam for some time afterward.

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More Tequila Tales

The caller was annoyed and had a threatening tone in his voice. He got right to the point and informed me that he was a business manager for Jimmy Buffett. He quickly added that we had infringed on trademark and other intellectual property rights – I can’t recall the full extent of our alleged/supposed violations but I was intrigued.

When I politely asked, “What the hell are you talking about?” he explained that Parrot Bay Rum by Captain Morgan, which had recently been introduced, infringed on their established use of the term Parrott Head, the commonly used nickname for fans of Jimmy Buffett. (I remember thinking, “Is he nuts?” How do you trademark the term parrot?)

I knew who Buffett was and associated him with the song Margaritaville, but I was far from a fan, much less an aficionado. I knew he had a strong and loyal following but that was about it.

Instinct told me this gentleman had more on his mind than a lawsuit so I pushed back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I countered. “Two floors below there are offices chocked full of lawyers who spend their time dealing with real and frivolous issues, so I suggest you take your best shot and do what you need to do.” There was silence but I could hear him blink. “Now, do you want to tell me why you’re really calling?”

He went on to explain that they’d like to have private label tequila for their restaurants and, since we didn’t have a viable brand (that hurt), would we be interested in producing one for them.

“Listen… private label tequila is not a good idea … you’ll make a nickel and we’ll make a dime. It won’t be anything more than a well brand… Tell you what … let’s talk about licensing Jimmy Buffett’s name for a tequila.”

The glee in his voice told me that I had just been played but, no matter, we needed a tequila brand and this might just be the ticket.

He informed me that they would prefer to use the name Margaritaville but the look and feel would be totally Buffett.

It didn’t take long to consider, particularly since a friend and wholesaler, one of the best and smartest in the business, recommended him to us. The deal was done, so far as I was concerned. Getting approval from management (not the owners this time) was another matter. It took a while.

Buffett’s man lived up to his end of the deal – wouldn’t you if you got a hefty royalty off the top? As for me, I became whatever the word is that goes beyond an admirer of Buffett, his music (made my kids so crazy by playing it constantly that they refused to ride in the car with me), his business and, of course, going to his concerts.

The biggest issue in the development was to capture the essence of the Jimmy Buffett brand. The next thing I know, the man himself appears at the office and lets us know that he is there to help with the back label copy. In twenty minutes, he produced the most incredible story that was totally Buffett. He is an amazing guy, top of the game performer, highly recognized and accomplished author and a decent, down to earth person.

In the few years that Seagram had it before the lights went out, the brand went from 5,000 to 50,000 cases. Afterward, it continued to grow but was bounced from company to company without, in my opinion, any significant focus or direction.

There is a happy ending however. Margaritaville is now part of the Sazarac Company and in good hands. In addition to the original tequila brands, they have rum and prepared cocktails including a skinny margarita mix.

Reminds me of his song, Changes in Latitude, Changes in Attitudenothing remains quite the same.

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Coyote Tequila

At lunch the other day with an old friend, who worked on Seagram new products and packaging design, I was reminded of the Coyote Tequila story and the supremacy of product over imagery. It is also a story of how logic and formulae don’t work in new product development.

When I was running new products, the single-minded goal was to fill holes in the overall portfolio. There was no larger hole than the absence of tequila.

Oh sure, there were 2 wannabe brands in the company’s history. One was Olmeca and the other was Mariachi, both now owned by Pernod Ricard. Not sure how well or poorly they are doing now, but at the time they were in the “brand hospice” division of the company. So the mission was to create a tequila brand that could compete with the dominant Jose Cuervo in a category that at the time showed the promise that has since come to fruition. (This was pre-Patron.)

The project was launched with gusto, intensity and with the best team and intentions. No effort was spared; no resource (in or out of the company) was held back; it was full steam ahead.

First step on the journey was to develop a concept. One that could make the new brand stand out from the others on the market and perhaps do for tequila what Captain Morgan did for rum. After all, it was argued, Bacardi dominates rum much the same way as Cuervo does in tequila and the extra-added attraction of a flavored product could separate the new tequila from the rest. Hmmm, sounded logical to me.

But what’s the name and imagery? Coyote, of course… as in southwest, as in rough and tough, as in sneaks up on you and steals your cattle, as in – you get the picture.

To further borrow a page from the Captain Morgan playbook, a howling pedestal was conceived and produced for bars. Each time a bottle was taken off the pedestal a button was released and activated the sound of a howling Coyote. The trade loved it. It reminded all of us of the highly successful Captain mirrors that bars clamored for. It cost a bloody fortune but who cared, this was Seagram and we’re taking on tequila. We’ll make it up on volume, as the saying goes. (See Nov. 30, 2010 posting Great Tchotchkes (Swag) I Have Known.)

Now for the formulation. What we learned was that most people at the time thought the taste of tequila was awful and that’s why the Margarita was invented. For the rest, the awful taste was a badge of courage that would be forgotten after a few rounds of shots by the machismo.

As a result, someone in R&D came up with the notion that Coyote needed to be harsh, even harsher that Cuervo – a taste that replicated the southwest concept and was truly macho, as in fiery. So this ‘tequila with natural flavors’ was “spiced” with hot peppers. Might have been a billion on the Scoville chili peppers heat scale for all I know. Whatever, it was doomed from the outset. I can’t blame R&D as much as the marketing team and myself for jumping to the wrong conclusion and letting this happen.

On the one hand we had consumers and the trade loving the idea and the brand. That is, until they tasted it. No matter how hard we tried to get the heat down, it still tasted like crap and over time the damage was done.

Lessons learned: What works in one instance doesn’t necessarily work in another. There are no formulas to success in spirits marketing or in any category. Further, no matter how good the packaging, name and proposition is, if it tastes awful – remember the expression “lipstick on a pig.” Unless, of course, an awful taste is the concept.

By the way, Seagram never really got tequila right. In addition to Olmeca, Mariachi and Coyote, there were ill-fated efforts with Herradura and Patron. Margaritaville, the last attempt, ended when the lights went out.

But that’s another story.

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