Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket, 1960s

Right now, my Trans-media class at Art Center is working on a rebranding of Kentucky Fried Chicken. You may say, “That’s dumb.” It’s actually a complicated issue. First, there is the name issue. It used to be Kentucky Fried Chicken, then the “Fried” thing was scary, so it became KFC. Unfortunately, an untrue rumor was spread that claimed it was called KFC because they couldn’t legally say “Chicken” due to the extreme genetic engineering. So the brand sits in a nebulous territory. There’s also an ethical issue that students need to face regarding fast food’s production, distribution, and nutrition.

The complex issues aside, I’ve decided that a chicken bucket is a wonderful thing. I’d eat fried chicken every day for the rest of my life if it wouldn’t kill me, or turn me into someone that needed to be fed in bed and turned over with an oar. The old chicken buckets don’t shy away from information. The new buckets scream, “Brand, brand, brand.” I like information. It makes sense to do the giant “brand” design on something like a shopping bag. People carry it around and it becomes a billboard. This isn’t the case with fried chicken. I don’t see many people walking around malls with red fried chicken buckets.

Little Red Hen bucket, 1960s

Kentucky Fried Chicken Christmas bucket

Dinah's Fried Chicken bucket

Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket, 1980s

Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket, 2000s

Share This Story

Jack in the Box restaurant, 1964, courtesy of Charles Phoenix

I like to tell my crew, family, and friends, “We prove our resolve and courage by resisting temptation.” Oscar Wilde said, “Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation?  I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength and courage to yield to.” And President Reagan said, “Middle age is when you’re faced with two temptations and you choose the one that will get you home by nine o’clock.”

The Tacos at Jack in the Box, and Original Recipe Kentucky Fried Chicken are two temptations that, like a narcotic to a junkie, sound so good as an idea, but end badly. They smell so nice and call to each person passing like Odysseus’ sirens. And then when you have finished your meal, you immediately feel deep regret and shame. “Why did I eat that?” I berate myself. Fortunately, this temptation only rears its head on long road trips, at the most once every two years.

The version designed in the early 1960s uses the entire building as a sign and a symbol. It’s clean, simple, and efficient—a masterpiece of modernism. Russell Forester designed the “big box” restaurant and said, “It’s not really a building. It’s an envelope to enclose machines to dispense food.” Meets the big tenets of modernism if you ask me. Plus the talking drive thru Jack (in the box) is so much more fun than a big board with illuminated photos of food. When I yield to temptation I want the whole cheesy enchilada with clowns, bright colors and wacky type, not a tasteful urban yet sophisticated attitude.

The Jack in the Box drive thru contraption

Jack in the Box, late 1950s

Share This Story