🥏Frisbee: A Pie in the Sky Idea (literally) | 39

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Jack, have you ever heard of the term phonoesthetics?

Phonoesthetics?

Can I introduce you to this concept right here?

I'd love to hear it, Nick.

Okay, phonoesthetics are the art of understanding the pleasantness of the sound of words.

Very interesting.

It's almost like a lingual ASMR.

Studies show that words with the letter B in them make us think about round shapes.

Like bounce makes me think of a ball.

You can't get this out of your head now.

Or K words make you think of sharp shapes.

I'm thinking kangaroo and I guess their tail is sharp.

You know what I'm getting at here.

Do you have like a favorite word?

I feel like there's something inside of you that like is a word you deeply connect with because you feel that word.

Well, when I was growing up playing wiffle ball, I I would scream, Yahtzee!

Then I hit a home run.

That is definitely a word I liked.

Okay, what's your favorite phono aesthetic word?

You know, Jack, it may be the subject of today's show because we happen to be diving into the story of one of the best words to say in the history of language, the frisbee.

It's a flying saucer that you command.

Frisbee's the way to lots of fun for everyone of the family.

Since its debut in the 1950s, hundreds of millions of frisbees have been sold worldwide.

Some sources claim the figure stands at more than 300 million.

300 million would mean more frisbees have been sold than the number of official basketballs, footballs, and baseballs sold combined.

Just think about how many frisbees you lost as a kid.

Then factor in all the conference totes and branded swag bags you've been given for free that included a frisbee or the generic flying discs because the lawyers said we are not technically a frisbee but we're basically a frisbee but it turns out the frisbee has also given rise to at least five different sports including ultimate beach ultimate guts freestyle and of course disc golf

this flying plastic disc it fascinates us because it's a product of mainstream capitalism but in many ways it's also rooted in dare we say the alternative lifestyles of socialism bold claim but we actually have evidence to back it up the frisbee has been a toy a counter culture symbol a serious athletic tool, and even a flying urn.

Today, we'll learn how a baked treat led to the creation of one of our favorite pastimes, how a beachside gimmick became a global obsession, and for the physics geeks out there, yeah, we'll dabble in some elementary aerodynamics too that you'll probably correct us in the comments about.

Plus, we'll explore why the best product names don't describe your product at all.

They just feel good in your mouth.

Turns out, the only thing more unpredictable than a frisbee in the wind is the story behind it.

Because much like a frisbee this episode ends up in a totally different place than where you expected it to land here is why the frisbee is the best idea yet

from wondering and t-boy i'm nick martel and i'm jack cravici kramer and this is the best idea yet the untold origin stories of the products you're obsessed with and the bold risk takers who made them go viral

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It's a warm spring day on the quad of Middlebury College in Vermont.

The grass is lush, the conversation is easy, and the syrup is maple-y.

Jack, can you picture it?

I can taste it, Nick.

Also, we should disclose, that's where you and I met.

Nick and I were freshmen to your college roommates at Middlebury College.

That's right.

But besties, the scene we're talking about right now is a bit before our time because it's 1939.

And right now, there is a distinctive scent drifting across the green.

I'm getting hints of apple, and is that cinnamon?

Yes, it is cinnamon, Jack, because it is the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked pie.

Groups of hungry students are spread out across the quad and they're sharing delicious hot off the truck pie.

What a wonderful scene.

Yeah, that is delightful.

A simpler time, if you will.

They eat, they laugh, but when the last slices are gone, there's no post-pie nap.

Instead, the students spring to their feet, they scatter across the lawn, and they start flinging the empty pie tins at each other.

One throws, another catches, and then sends it sailing to the next person in a circle.

So golfers yell, FORM!

After they drive their ball and it slices off course, these students have their own warning call for their flying object, and they get it from the words that are embossed into the pie tins.

F-R-I-S-B-I-E.

Frisbee.

That's the name of the Connecticut company that bakes the pies.

And note that spelling, by the way.

The Frisbee Pie Company ends with I-E, not E-E.

And that single-letter difference will be be important later in our story.

We cover lots of origin stories on this pot.

This one, however, is particularly close to our heart because it's also a story that Middlebury College takes very seriously, but it is not undisputed.

Middlebury College says its Delta Upsilon fraternity invented the pie tin frisbeeing during a road trip in 1939.

Basically, when their car blew a tire, they passed the time waiting for it to be fixed by tossing around leftover fruit pie tins.

Sounds like Middlebury was just awash in pies back then.

But at least there is one other origin story, Jack, and it begins in New Haven over at Yale, which claims they are the place where frisbee throwing was in fact invented.

Of course they did.

Others say it actually started among workers at the Frisbee Pie Factory itself.

Well, Yale's Wikipedia page doesn't have room for frisbee origin story.

Middlebury's does.

They put up a statue in 1989 to cement their claim as the true origin origin of the frisbee.

It's a bronze statue of a dog catching a frisbee, and you can see it right there on the green in front of Monroe Hall.

All right, origin story case close in the eyes of these impartial judges.

But back to the first half of the 20th century.

Whatever the origin of pie tin throwing, it catches on beyond Middlebury and beyond Yale.

At colleges across the Northeast, students are flinging pie tins across campus greens and from frat house window to the other frat house window.

The game sticks and so does that name, frisbee, but only in a kind of loose regional way.

For the next few decades, frisbee throwing remains a quirky New England pastime, like sharing your favorite movie quote from Goodwill Hunting or debating which color of pastel red is better, Nantucket red or Maine lobster.

That is until a pair of teenage sweethearts on the other side of the country independently discover the joys of hurling cookware at each other's faces.

It's Thanksgiving, 1937, in lovely Los Angeles, California.

And a teenage couple, Fred Morrison and Lucille Ney, they need a break from their family.

So they duck outside to get some exercise and they start playing a game of catch with the metal lid from a popcorn tub.

The game is fun, but it ends too soon because the thin metal dents too easily.

After just a few throws, it's wobbling through the air like Oscar the Grouch's trash can lid.

So when they play next, they swap out the lid for something more robust, a cake pan.

Now, whenever the couple goes out to the beach in Santa Monica, instead of sunbathing or surfing, they're tossing tin.

Saturday afternoon cake pan toss becomes their thing, and they get pretty good at it too.

Fred effortlessly starts sending this metal disc arcing into the clear blue sky.

And then Lucille takes a few graceful strides across the sand, plucks the platter out of the air, and then casts it back to Fred.

On this very particular day, a stranger stops by to admire Fred and Lucille's new game.

He stands for a few minutes transfixed.

Then he approaches them and what does he ask, Jack?

He says, how much?

Pointing at the cake tin in Fred's hand.

Fred is confused.

He's looking puzzled.

Lucille, she quickly stifles a laugh.

She can't believe it.

It's a cake tin.

Exactly.

One you can get in pretty much any store.

They only sell for a nickel.

Like, is this guy messing with them?

No.

He looks serious.

He's making a proposition.

So Fred decides to have a little fun.

It only costs him a nickel, but the price he names is a quarter.

To Fred and Lucille's amazement, the guy reaches into his pocket and hands them a quarter.

Fred gives him the cake tin and the guy takes it over to his family.

Pretty soon, he's tossing that tin around on the beach with his kids.

So Fred goes full founder mode after that incident and he sets up shop right there on the Santa Monica boardwalk.

He starts buying pans for five cents and then flipping them for a quarter.

This quietly turns into a profitable little side hustle.

Fred and Lucille start showing up at parks and beaches all over LA, selling this cake plate game right off the sand.

And here's the thing, Fred and Lucille aren't trying to hide the fact that they're making a ridiculously good 400% markup on each tin sold.

Cha-Ching, Cha-Ching.

In fact, to juice this profit puppy a little bit more, they add on some branding.

They name these things flying cake pans.

Everyone knows that cake tins only cost a nickel at the store.

But when people see them soaring through the air, when they hear the laughter, when they witness the crowds, it flips a switch.

Suddenly, they don't want to wait until their trip to Sears.

They want their flying cake pan right there and right then.

And you know what?

They'll pay 25 cents, five times the cost for the privilege and the convenience.

It's instant, visible, and most importantly, contagious fun.

That's the power of in-the-moment marketing.

when your product is being demoed by happy customers all around you.

So you source the product for five cents and you can sell the convenience for 25 cents.

It's arbitrage with style.

And as the sales grow, so does Fred and Lucille's love for each other.

And they get married in 1939.

But then history crashes the party in the shape of World War II.

Fred joins the Air Force to serve his country and becomes a pilot, flying a P-47 Thunderbolt.

He flies 56 successful bombing missions over Italy, but on his 57th, disaster strikes.

His plane is shot down.

Fred survives, but he's captured behind enemy lines.

Fred spends 48 days in a German POW camp before he is liberated by the Allied forces.

Now, most people would need a bit of rest after spending time as a prisoner of war, but not Fred.

When he gets home, he picks up right where he left off.

Except this time, he has an understanding of aerodynamics, thanks to years as a pilot.

Turns out, flying a fighter plane gives you a feel for how things should move through the air air, Nick.

Makes sense, Jack.

So here's what Fred does next.

He redesigns the disc.

He adjusts the rim, he slims the body, and he names this new model, the Whirlaway.

This name, it's got momentum, baby.

It sounds fast.

It kind of describes what it does as you say it.

It belongs also to that charming category of mid-20th century hybrid sounding brand names.

They're a little bit sleek, a little bit space-age, and they give you a sense of the product, and they're just fun to say.

Hey, I like Kodachrome.

It's a word so good Paul Simon named a song after it.

Or alum of the show, the Stratocaster.

Despite the success of those other names, in this case, the name doesn't stick, but he has made another major update that does the material.

The whirl away has left behind its pie-tin heritage to get with the times because now it's made with plastic.

Plastic is the new material showing up everywhere at this point in time.

Factories that once made military gear need a new purpose.

So they start cranking out plastic toys, plastic packaging, plastic furniture, plastic just for plastic's sake, Nick.

If you can mold it, you can plastic it.

Now, we actually saw the same thing in our Lego episode.

Like they literally pivoted the entire family business from wood blocks to plastic blocks and totally changed Lego's destiny.

Plastic is the future and it's cheap.

Another upside for the whirlaway, plastic is lighter, which makes for better lift.

So Fred starts selling plastic discs up and down the whole West Coast.

He's driving up the 101, hidden state fairs, school events, even prom night over at Fresno High.

Any place he can demo the whirl away, he's demoing it.

And the people, they're amazed.

These discs fly so straight.

Some spectators assume it's a trick using invisible wires.

But while mouths gape open in wonder, wallets remain shut.

and business never really takes off.

Fred's beach home sales pitch just doesn't translate to school auditoriums and trade shows.

It's sad, but Fred puts his dreams for the whirlaway to the side and instead takes a job as a carpenter.

But the flying disc dream is still spinning in the back of Fred's mind.

He hasn't given up.

He just hasn't quite landed it

yet.

There is a concept Jack and I refer to as minovations.

Small tweaks that actually have a big impact.

They're many, but they're innovations.

And Fred is about to make a design minovation that will change the trajectory of the flying disc.

Fred adds a raised hub in the center with a gentle downward slope toward the edges.

This isn't about aesthetics, but aerodynamics, because that slope changes the disc into an airfoil.

An airfoil is a structure that's curved to create more lift than drag.

Think of an airplane wave.

They've got that gentle curve over the top and a flatter surface underneath.

That shape makes the air move faster over the top than it does underneath.

And that difference in pressure is actually what creates the miracle of flight.

So you can thank the airfoil.

The next time you are stuck in coach, the in-flight entertainment system is broken, and the person next to you just slipped off their shoes, you're experiencing the miracle of flight.

And Fred has figured out how to take the principle of an airplane's wing and put it in your hands in the shape of a sloped disc.

This new design gives the whirlway more lift.

So when you throw it with spin, it can fly, baby fly.

And it only comes down once it loses momentum.

So instead of a short toss between a small circle of friends on the quad, you can now huck this thing all the way to the other side of campus.

Fred's design doesn't fly as far as modern day Frisbee does, but the changes he makes to the whirlaway give it a whole new look.

One that resembles something that in 1955 is all over the news.

That's right.

In the mid-1950s, news reports of UFOs and aliens crash landing in New Mexico leads to a new American obsession.

Flying saucers.

They appear in comic books, campy movies, and conspiracy theories at the Thanksgiving dinner table.

So Fred taps straight into that zeitgeist and renames the whirl away the Pluto Platter.

Pluto platter?

That name is an affront to alliteration.

The aerodynamics are upgraded.

The name downgraded.

But the sales continue to stay flat as a pie ten.

Remember the good old days days pre-war when he was enjoying a 400% profit margin on the Santa Monica pier?

Now Fred's losing money.

Fred's got the flight mechanics spinning, but his marketing mechanics are stalling out.

Just as he is on the verge of packing it all in, another circle-shaped obsession takes over the country.

Forget alien invasions.

This is something even weirder.

Just like the Pluto platter, it's round.

It's plastic.

It's played outside, and it's good for your health.

Although it makes you look absolutely ridiculous.

But it does give Fred an idea.

Maybe the key to selling a flying saucer is riding the wave of a different, more popular circular plastic toy.

One that has a huge hole in the middle of it.

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It's 1958, and America has officially lost its mind.

And it's not fear of alien invasions or losing the space race against the Soviets.

No, the source of this nationwide cray cray is a hollow ring of plastic that turns your torso into a carnival ride.

It's the hula hoop.

Across the country, sidewalks are jammed up with kids spinning plastic hoops around their waists like human gyroscopes.

Moms are hula hooping in their driveways.

Dads are pulling muscles at backyard barbecues.

Hospitals even start reporting a rise in waist and neck injuries.

It's called hula hoop syndrome.

The hula hoop is a cultural phenomenon.

There's not one, but two versions of the same hula hoop song in the Billboard Hot 100 that year.

Hula hoop.

Everyone was playing with the hula hoop.

In just six months, 120 million hula hoops are sold at $1.98 per hoop, which is $22 in today's money.

And that's absolutely massive, considering the U.S.

population is just 170 million people at the time.

Run the math on it, and it means two hoops are sold for every three Americans.

And this is happening in in just six months.

That is market penetration at a speed we've never seen before.

So, when Fred Morrison starts seeing hula hoops appear in the neighborhood, he's intrigued.

Here's a toy that's even more simple than his Pluto platter.

You can't walk to the grocery store without having to dodge hula hoopers, but you hardly ever see anyone with Pluto platters throwing them around in the wild.

Whoever is selling the hula hoop is getting something right.

So, Fred decides to find out just who they are.

Turns out, it's a little outfit called WAMO.

Great name.

WAMO is based in Pasadena, California, which is just a short ride up the freeway from where Fred and Lucille live in Glendale.

Wammo was founded in 1948 by two college buddies.

Their first product was a slingshot, but Wammo ain't no one-hit wonder.

Over the years, Wammo brings us the slip and slide, silly string, the hacky sack, and the boogie board.

Basically, if it's fun, low-cost, and you have wonderful memories playing with this thing as a child, it's probably a Wammo product.

But let's return to the late 1950s.

The Hula hoop is Wamo's next big product after the slingshot.

And like the slingshot, which has been around since David took down Goliath, they didn't invent it.

No, Wammo refined it based on a bamboo hoop they'd seen down in Australia.

So Wammo rolls out a viral marketing campaign way ahead of its time.

They bring hoops to parks and schoolyards around Los Angeles and tell kids, if you can keep it spinning, you can take it home.

It's the greatest free sample giveaway in history, combined with a form of gamification.

They're not just handing you a hoop, they're challenging you to do a hula.

Whammo, they got a track record, the marketing muscle, and a sixth cents for viral hits that the Pluto platter needs to get to the next level.

So Fred puts on his best shirt, grabs a stack of Pluto platters, and hits the freeway.

Next stop, Whammo Headquarters.

Fred rolls up to Wammo Headquarters with a trunk full of Pluto platters and a heart full of hope.

He leans hard on his years of experience selling flying pie tins and the courage he owned dodging bullets in the skies of wartime Europe.

And after an impromptu Pluto platter toss in the Whammo parking lot, Fred closes the deal.

Like a pack of golden retrievers, the Whammo execs love this flying disc.

Whammo buys the rights to the Pluto platter designed from Fred, Fred, and Fred steps back from our story with a nice little payday and a cut of future sales.

Let's just say his name is in the National Toy Hall of Fame today.

Not too shabby.

Now, it's up to Whammo to make sure those Pluto platters finally go into orbit.

But when Wammo focuses all its viral marketing power on the Pluto platter, sales go from flat to just as flat.

We have found a Pluto platter plateau.

Yeah, Whammo knows there's only so long they can keep the hula hoop craze spinning.

They need this Pluto platter to be their next breakout viral sensation.

And it seemed like it was going to be the perfect next hit.

But there is just something missing from this flying disc.

So when Whamo gets wind that college kids in New England have been tossing pie pans at each other for decades, they go up north to investigate.

And that's when they hear, for the first time, yelled across the quad, Frisbee!

It turns out the Frisbee Pie factory itself has closed, but the name lives on.

That's right, that pie tin throwing, it's still going strong.

It just happens to be completely uncommercialized.

Frisbees in New England, they're like piles of leaves in the fall, just free fun for all.

Now, if you just paid a lot of money to acquire a product and then found out the product already exists, In fact, people use the product for free, you might be depressed.

But not the whammo execs.

Because taking niche pastimes and turning them into mass crazes, that's the whammo way.

And seeing all these kids playing frisbee isn't a problem in their eyes.

It's actually a proof of concept.

These kids, they're all still using pie tins.

No one's actually made a refined disc built especially for tossing.

And that means there's no real competing product.

Whammo sees an opportunity, and they also know a good name when they hear it.

And with the Frisbee Pie Company out of business, the name is up for grabs.

Just to be sure, though, the lawyers asked them to swap out the IE ending for a double E.

You gotta keep the lawyers happy, Jack.

And just like that, they came up with one of the most enduring, most evocative, most true to product names in history: Frisbee.

With a new name and Wammo's marketing genius behind it, the Frisbee officially launches in 1958.

And though sales are okay, it's still eclipsed by the Hula hoop.

I can't believe this.

Can a hula hoop eclipse something?

Jack, let's leave that one for Neil deGrosse Tyson.

But what's important here is that the Hula Hoop craze eventually does start to cool.

And the Frisbee is still failing to pick up the slack.

So Whammo is ready to shelve the Frisbee as their warehouse is starting to pile high with these unsold discs.

But then a guy gets in touch with Whammo, a former deep sea welder with a burning ambition to be a toy inventor.

This is Ed Hedrick.

And yes, you heard us right.

His former occupation was welding metal underwater in the sea.

But Ed also has got a deep fixation with toys and a dream of becoming an inventor.

In 1964, Ed walks into Wammo and asks for a job.

But they tell him, we're not hiring.

So Ed makes them an offer.

Let me work for free, three months.

If I'm not useful by then, no hard feelings.

I'll walk away.

And Wammo says, sure, why not?

So Ed gets his first assignment.

Figure out what the heck to do with these mountains of surplus hula hoops and unsold frisbees just sitting on the shelves.

Ed hits the warehouse.

He spends the afternoon of day one throwing these frisbees and taking careful notes after each throw.

He quickly notices that the frisbees fly high thanks to that airfoil design of Fred's, but they still wobble through the air.

If he can eliminate that wobble, then the frisbees will fly straighter and they'll fly further.

Plus, you'll be able to throw them with with much more accuracy.

Basically, it would become a better product.

Exactly.

Soon, he starts tweaking.

Ed adds concentric rings to the top for better stability in flight.

He starts fine-tuning the shape for a smoother glide, and then he dials in the balance a little bit more.

Well, Whammo takes notice of Ed's innovations to the Frisbee.

And you know what?

They love it so much, they offer him a job as head of research and development.

That's right.

This guy went from unpaid intern to head of research and development in less than a year.

And Jack, as soon as he settles down into that sweet corner office, he gets ready to reveal the new improved Frisbee to the world.

But there's just one last change that he wants to make.

Not to the disc, but to its positioning.

Up until now, Ramo has been marketing the Frisbee mainly to kids.

But Ed has hit upon something while developing this improved version.

The new Frisbee flies like a precision instrument.

There's more skill than luck now.

This kind of balance appeals not only to kids, but more so to adults.

So when Whammo launches the newest version, they sell it in both the sporting goods section and the toy aisle.

And Ed himself becomes the ambassador for this new adult-style sport that bridges the kiddo divide.

He even goes on the Johnny Carson show to give America a taste of how to throw a frisbee, which makes Ed a minor celebrity.

Anyone who sees Ed throw a frisbee can tell there's something special about him.

The disc never wobbles as it sails with perfect accuracy into the hands of the person catching it.

His frisbee throws are so accurate, so wobble-free that Ed earns the nickname Steady Ed.

Beaches and parks across the country are filled with bare feet, tie-dye, and the sound of acoustic guitars.

Overhead, flying discs trace lazy arcs across the sky.

It's the early 1970s and the Frisbee has taken off, not just as a toy, but as a symbol for an entire generation.

The Frisbee catches on with hippies and other nonconformists because it feels like a countercultural answer to traditional sports.

Yes, it does.

You don't need cleats and shoulder pads to play.

You need bare feet, an open space, and an open mind.

It appeals to anyone who feels left out of the usual rules and teams, or as Steady Ed puts it himself, the emblem of the unruly.

Just like Birkenstocks and Dr.

Pepper, the frisbee is finding an in with the counterculture.

Yeah, but we should point out, Yeti, it's not just flower children and people on the fringe who are into frisbee, because Ed's efforts to promote frisbee as a piece of serious sports equipment to adults that's also started to have an impact.

New games start forming as people spontaneously come up with new sets of rules.

How about a game called Guts, which is like dodgeball with a frisbee.

Like you are trying to catch a disc that someone is hurling at your body as fast as they can.

That takes guts, hence the name.

Then there's freestyle, which took frisbee from a casual throwabout to a carefully crafted art form.

Think trick throws?

Spinning catches and competitive tournaments with judges who do scoring.

Okay, but Jack, maybe the biggest leap of Frisbee's evolution of all is Ultimate.

Invented in 1968 by a group of New Jersey high schoolers.

Ultimate is kind of a growth hack because it turns this two-person activity, throwing a frisbee back and forth, into a team sport.

Because it's played between two teams trying to score points by passing a frisbee into the end zone.

The game is directionally similar to football or rugby, but with way more slender players and a lot fewer bruises.

And today, it's played in over 100 countries.

A 2012 report said that the U.S.

had over 5 million Ultimate Frisbee players.

Could you sprinkle on more context for us, please?

Nick, that's more than lacrosse and hockey, your two sports combined.

That was not the context I was looking for, man.

But even with guts, freestyle, and ultimate catching fire across America and the world, the frisbee isn't done evolving.

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Let's rewind back to 1965.

A parks and rec worker named George Sappenfield has a problem in one of those playgrounds that he oversees.

You see, this thing, it's stocked with a supply of frisbees and hula hoops and nobody is using them.

I believe the technical term for this problem is a double whammo.

Yes, it is Jack.

And this happens to go against George's training as a parks and rec worker.

He needs to make the most of all his resources.

So seeing these hula hoops just lying unused, it's making George uneasy.

One day, when George is playing a round of golf, an idea hits him.

What if he sets up a game like golf, but using frisbees instead of balls?

Interesting.

And instead of holes in the ground, there'd be hula hoops hanging in the air.

Alright, I like where this is going.

And just like with golf, you could create a bunch of holes.

Par threes, par fours, par fives.

And the fewer frisbee throws it takes for you to get it through the hoop, the better.

And just like golf, you'll be immensely frustrated at the end of it.

Well, that weekend, George sets up a game at the playground.

And you know what?

The kids love it.

When George eventually becomes the Park's Rec supervisor, he continues to play this frisbee golf golf game with friends and park visitors.

Then, George decides to take things further by pitching Whammo the idea of a Frisbee golf tournament.

Now, Whammo is so impressed with this idea that they offer George a part-time job as a promotions consultant.

And quickly, George becomes one of the company's most passionate evangelists.

He also gets to know Steady Ed, who by now is a VP at Wammo and a pretty big deal.

George convinces Ed to spotlight Frisbee Golf at a Frisbee event that Whammo happens to be organizing.

Ed agrees and in preparation for the event, he gives Frisbee Golf a try and he's into it.

Yeah, Ed knows the Frisbee better than anyone at this point.

He's got a great eye for the sport.

Steady Ed loves the mix of fun, skill, and strategy that frisbee golf brings to the table.

And Ed also sees how frisbee golf could be good for whammo's bottom line.

Regular golfers need a range of clubs for different distances and surfaces.

And Ed thinks frisbee golfers could also have a range of frisbees for different distances and wind conditions.

And that would mean more frisbee sales for Whammo.

Turning frisbee golfers into repeat rabbits, buying more and more of the product.

But shockingly, Whammo isn't into this idea.

In fact, they refuse to let Ed use the trademark word frisbee in any of the marketing for this awesome new golf game.

All right, Jack, I was shocked when I heard this.

Like, why would Whammo stop things now?

They've basically said yes yes to everything.

It's very unwammo of them, but Ed doesn't let it stop him.

He comes up with a new name for the sport, Disc Golf, and he decides to quit WAMO and dedicate himself to a sport that 99.99% of the country has never even heard of.

Steady Ed decides to set up the Disc Golf Association, and then he starts selling his own discs, specifically crafted for disc golf.

Also, he designs a special chain-link disc golf basket, which is even better than a hula hoop because it actually catches the disc.

Finally, he ends up setting up disc golf parks across the country.

Disc golf catches on, and by the time Ed passes away in 2002, it's played professionally, internationally, and obsessively by millions of people.

Today, there's more than 10,000 disc golf courses in the US, plus another 6,000 worldwide.

But the detail that really tells the depth of Ed's commitment is that that Ed managed to continue his passion for disc golf into eternity.

That's right.

In his will, Ed asked for his ashes to be molded into a limited run of disc golf discs.

Now, most of these Ed discs go to his friends and family.

Others were sold to raise funds for the Steady Ed Memorial Disc Golf Museum in Georgia.

Because as Ed liked to say, when we Frisbyans die, we don't go to purgatory.

We just land on the roof and lie there.

I love that line.

Jack, when I pass away, if you don't cremate me and turn me into a microphone, then this podcast is missing a legacy, man.

Now, as for Whammo, they're still in business and they still own the patent to the original Frisbee design, as well as Steady Ed's improved version.

Whammo even still has the trademark on the Frisbee name itself, the name that started it all.

Although there are countless other flying discs, and the market as a whole is worth $1 billion.

So, from a pie tin to a plastic disc sold in over 300 million units worldwide, that's the story of the Frisbee.

So Jack, I got to ask you, now that you heard it, dare to leap into the air and catch a takeaway for us.

Here's my favorite takeaway of this story.

Get your product's name added to the dictionary.

Now, Nick, this all starts with name storming, which is brainstorming, but for your name, figuring out what to call your product or your business.

And generally, you have two options.

You can A, pick a name that describes the product, or B, pick a name that's completely unrelated and maybe even made up.

This story is a great case study since Fred tried both of these things.

He started with descriptive names like the Pluto platter, the flying saucer, and the whirlaway, and none of those names worked actually.

But when Whammo went with Frisbee, a word with no dictionary definition at all, that is when the product really started to take off.

The name frisbee worked because it sounded like the game itself.

It evoked a feeling and Wammos saw just how much those kids in New England loved to gleefully yell frisbee when they were flicking the disc.

Now we should point out, Jack, made-up names can be risky.

Yes, they can.

It's a risk when people don't know what the word means.

It also may sound silly and an unspellable name, that's like smacking your own brand in the face.

But made-up names can also be the key to success.

Here's the proof.

The word frisbee eventually made it into the dictionary, alongside other

defining brand names like Tupperware, Bandaid, and Google, which gets bonus points for also becoming a verb.

So make it a goal to get your brand name added to the dictionary.

What about you, Nick?

What's your takeaway?

Why give a free sample when you can give a free challenge?

Whammo used a form of guerrilla marketing that was actually way ahead of its time because instead of just handing out hula hoops, they challenged people with hula hoops.

Remember in parks and schoolyards and on street corners, they would say to passersby, hey, if you can keep this thing spinning, you can just keep it.

Take it home.

Those pop-up challenges were cheap and effective.

They drew crowds and they built a buzz.

Oh, and the people who passed the test would then show off to their friends, who then likely won a hula hoop of their own because they'd just been challenged.

And that strategy turned every giveaway into a story.

It turned it into an experience and a little bit of word of mouth magic.

This is why you should make your giveaways into challenges.

But Jack, before we go, it is time for our absolute favorite part of the show, the best facts yet.

These are the hero facts, the surprises, and the statistics that we discovered in our research, but just couldn't fit into the story.

All right, Jack, since full disclosure, I actually can't throw a frisbee.

Why don't you kick these things off?

In 1968, the U.S.

military spent the equivalent of over $3 million today testing whether frisbees could be used to drop flares over enemy territory.

The hope that these lightweight discs might replace parachutes.

But the result was a lot of lost frisbees, probably still resting on the rooftops in Rotterdam.

Alright, so Jack, I got a fact for you.

Remember how we said Ultimate was created at a high school in Jersey?

Yeah.

Well, one of the teen inventors was named Joel Silver.

Does that name ring a bell to you at all?

It does not.

Okay, Joel Silver went on to produce Die Hard and The Matrix.

What?

Yeah.

Well, I gotta say, he missed a crossover opportunity.

Bruce Willis taken out that gang of German terrorists with a frisbee hit to the head.

I mean, I wonder if Neo can dodge Frisbees as gracefully as he dodges bullets, man.

And that is why Frisbee is the best idea yet.

Coming up on the next episode of The Best Idea Yet, how a French tire company accidentally became the world's most feared restaurant critic.

Stars will be awarded and egos will be shattered as we dig deep into the story of the Michelin Guide.

And if you have an idea for our next episode after that, let us know in the comments.

Or if you've got your own takeaways on today's story about the Frisbee, drop them in the comments.

We'll respond right back to you.

Follow the best idea yet on the Wondery app, Amazon Music, or wherever you get your podcasts.

You can listen to every episode of The Best Idea Yet early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts.

Before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com/slash survey.

The best idea yet is a production of Wondering, hosted by me, Nick Martel, and me, Jack Kurvici-Kramer.

Our senior producers are Matt Beagle and Chris Gauthier.

Peter Arcuni is our additional senior producer.

Our senior managing producer is Nick Ryan, and Taylor Sniffin is our managing producer.

Our producer and researcher is H.

Conley.

This episode was written and produced by Adam Skeuse.

We use many sources in our research, including How the Frisbee Took Flight by Ben VanHoovelin on Salon.com and the little-known story of how a World War II pilot invented the Frisbee by Emily White at Sports and Service.

Sound design and mixing by Kelly Kromeric.

Fact-checking by Erica Janick.

Music supervision by Scott Velazquez and Jolena Garcia for Freeson Sync.

Our theme song is Got That Feeling Again by Black-Alack.

Executive Producers for Nick and Jack Studios are me, Nick Martel, and me, Jack Ravici Kramer.

Executive producers for Wondery are Dave Easton, Jenny Lauer-Beckman, Aaron O'Flaherty, and Marshall Louie.

How hard is it to kill a planet?

Maybe all it takes is a little drilling, some mining, and a whole lot of carbon pumped into the atmosphere.

When you see what's left, it starts to look like a crime scene.

Are we really safe?

Is our water safe?

You destroyed our top.

And crimes like that, they don't just happen.

We call things accidents.

There is no accident.

This was 100%

preventable.

They're the result of choices by people.

Ruthless oil tycoons, corrupt politicians, even organized crime.

These are the stories we need to be telling about our changing planet.

Stories of scams, murders, and cover-ups that are about us and the things we're doing to either protect the Earth or destroy it.

Follow Lawless Planet on the Wondry app or wherever you get your podcasts.

You can listen to new episodes of Lawless Planet early and ad-free right by joining Wondry Plus in the Wondry app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify.