In-N-Out Burger

Cult Following

…a local science fiction author named Matt Dinniman was later moved to remark: “If you actually drove by the place today, you’d think Jesus himself was working the shake machine.”

There was no promotional advertising either—just a small sign that stood on the lot for some time. “Coming Soon, In-N-Out Burger.”

…there was no “grand opening,” at least not in the traditional sense; the carnival atmosphere was created entirely by In-N-Out’s rabid fans. The chain didn’t need to advertise its opening; for weeks, its devotees had been broadcasting the news to one another.

…people began lining up at 2:00 a.m. the day before, some sleeping in their cars overnight. By 6:00 a.m. on the morning of the opening, about a dozen folks were pressed against the front doors. By noon, the crowd had grown appreciably, hundreds of people having descended upon the fast-food restaurant and its signature crossed palm trees.

Remarkably, despite the constant crush of customers, the associates maintained their smiles throughout the grueling day.

In an industry that has come to be seen as a scourge on modern society, responsible for everything from obesity to urban blight to cultural imperialism, this modest, low-slung eatery with the big yellow arrow is unique among fast-food breeds: a chain revered by hamburger aficionados and epicureans, anti-globalization fanatics and corporate raiders, meat-eaters and even vegetarians.

…as nearly every other chain is pilloried and left in a heap, In-N-Out Burger remains standing virtually unscathed. It has long been adored by its legions of fans, whose main complaint seems to be that there just aren’t enough of the restaurants around. With little prodding, In-N-Out has earned the ringing endorsement of an astonishing spectrum of people.

…when famed restaurant The French Laundry reached its twelfth anniversary in 2006, its Michelin-starred chef Thomas Keller, a longtime fan, celebrated with his staff by having three hundred In-N-Out burgers and a small mountain of fries delivered to the restaurant.

At some point, In-N-Out emerged as something more compelling than a mere fast-food joint. It is nothing less than a cultural institution with a hysterically loyal cult following. Today, In-N-Out is as much a part of Southern California as the Hollywood sign or the graceful palm trees that line the streets of Los Angeles.

Baldwin Park’s “old-timers,” as they like to call themselves—those folks who’ve lived here since that first In-N-Out opened—insist that despite its enormous success, not much has changed. “Those burgers taste exactly the same as day one,” they chorus.

Robert LePlae, the president of TBWA/Chiat/Day, the advertising giant behind memorable campaigns for Levi’s, Taco Bell, and Apple Computer, acknowledged, “Their marketing is really brilliant. The best marketing is word of mouth, and they have that. You can’t get that through traditional media.” Moreover, LePlae was full of praise for the simple fact that In-N-Out hadn’t sold its soul. “They don’t abuse the privilege that they have built up with their customers.”

“They haven’t commercialized the secret menu,” he enthused. “There is a powerful trust between the company and the customers that is deeply ingrained. I’m not sure if it was intentional, but it is not the kind of thing a big, massive company could do. They would merchandise every little thing.”

In-N-Out represented the integrity of a different era. Perhaps more than anything, In-N-Out had been around for so long that many seemed to feel that they had a personal stake in the events taking place far from public view. The burger chain occupied a particular place in the cultural imagination of Southern California, and it seemed to influence the country’s perception of Southern California as well.

Origins

“By today’s standards, the house wasn’t much,” recalled Harry many years later. “But in those days it was nice. I used to sleep in an empty chicken coop in the backyard.

“He had some crazy ideas,” is how Harry Jr. once described his father. “He didn’t believe anybody should be wealthy. He figured that if you made so much money the rest of it should go back to the government and they would give it to poor people. He was a die-hard socialist.”

However, when it came to finances, Hendrick was careless to the point of recklessness. “The old man always ran out of money,” was how Harry described his father’s financial acumen—or lack thereof. “If he got paid for a job they’d have a big dinner with lots of food in the house and have a lot of people over and have a big party.”

“When he left Seattle, he owed everybody and their brother money,” Harry once said. “He was the biggest stiff there was.”

…the family moved from one rental house to the next, often owing rent to the landlords they had left behind. When Harry was thirteen, his father landed in jail after he beat up a landlord who came by demanding his money.

It was nothing less than a mass exodus of Americans. Indeed, between 1940 and 1950, the state population swelled from 6.9 million to 10.5 million, an increase of approximately 52 percent. Between July 1945 and July 1947, more than a million people resettled in California—many ended up in the Southland.

Harry Snyder’s dream was a modest one. He was going to start his own little food business—a hamburger stand.

Harry wanted to serve quality food at a reasonable price, and as quickly as possible. “We really have to have a place where people can get their sandwiches and go,” he said. Harry and Esther would open a new kind of hamburger stand—the drive-through—catering to an increasingly mobile society.

Baldwin Park is the spot where In-N-Out Burger began. And it is where the Snyders developed their basic philosophy: serve the freshest, highest-quality burgers and fries; treat your employees well and your customers even better, all while providing friendly service in a spanking clean environment; and above all, remain family-owned and independent.

Car Culture

Harry Snyder’s instinct was a good one. Southern California was the most heavily motorized place on the planet. Already by 1940 there were over 1 million cars in Los Angeles—five automobiles for every four families. It was reported at the time that Angelinos spent more money on their cars than their clothes. Moreover, the Los Angeles Police Department had more traffic officers than the San Francisco Police Department had policemen on their entire force.

There was a demand for cheap food from a constant flow of customers who worked in nearby factories, mills, offices, and shops. Not coincidentally, this casual new way of dining dovetailed with the rise of car culture and the establishment of the extensive interstate highway system that was starting to crisscross the nation. With better roads, people could travel farther. Along the way people would need places to rest, sleep, and above all eat. These little burger stands heralded a new way of eating. And this new way of eating eventually had an impact on America’s economy, topography, popular culture, and even the way Americans were viewed abroad. In time, there were negative consequences, to be sure, but in the period immediately following World War II, these little burger stands signaled sweeping changes in the country.

These little restaurants cropping up all over on the roadsides were known simply as the drive-in. Many consider the Pig Stand, which opened on the corner of Sunset and Vermont in Hollywood in 1932, to be the first.

Drive-ins became an adventure in eating. It was said that the number of drive-in restaurants rivaled the number of automobiles in Southern California. Food stands with bright neon signs and carhop girls, those attractive young women dressed up in flashy costumes who served patrons in their cars using specially made trays attached to car windows, dotted the landscape. In fact, they came to define the landscape. Popular in Southern California, they soon spread to the rest of the country.

At one time, Los Angeles had an enviable large-scale trolley network. The Pacific Electric train, with fifteen hundred miles of track, stretched seventy-five miles from San Bernardino to San Fernando and south to Santa Ana. Before it was dismantled and relegated to history, during the late 1930s, the system was carrying some 80 million passengers a year.

The demise of the fabled Red Line in Southern California is generally connected to a complex corporate plot hatched by a consortium that included General Motors, Standard Oil, Phillips Petroleum, and Firestone Tires, all of whom allegedly conspired to wipe out the rail networks and create a transportation system heavily dependent upon the automobile.

The scandal shot straight to the Supreme Court, and GM and several of its cohorts were later indicted on federal antitrust charges. The presiding judge in the case fined GM and the other companies involved $5,000 each and the executives who hatched the plot were forced to pay a one-dollar fine.

As the noted man of letters William Faulkner observed in 1948, in his novel Intruder in the Dust, “The American really loves nothing but his automobile—not his wife, his child, nor his country, nor even his bank account first.”

The Drive-Through Innovation

One motorist is shown placing an order in front of a small white box on a pole with the words “Two Way Speaker” written across the side in red letters.

The Snyders’ burger shack was tiny, it had no indoor seating, and there was little room for a full-fledged drive-in with carhops. Harry, an amateur electronics enthusiast, came up with an idea that would compensate for these deficits. He dispensed with the carhops altogether and replaced them with an invention of his own: a simple two-way speaker box made out of a few off-the-shelf electrical components that was connected to the eatery’s kitchen. That way, motorists could order at one end of a driveway into a small white box attached to a pole dug into the road and then…

Yet, Harry’s new speakerphone drive-through format got off to something of a troubled start. In 1948, most customers were bewildered by the invention that in time became as standard and familiar as fast food itself. The Snyders had to show customers how to use the drive-through; they even enlisted their young sons to help. Astonishingly, Harry Snyder and In-N-Out have received scant recognition for coming up with what is essentially the formula for today’s drive-through system.

Dave Thomas, the founder of Wendy’s, boasted that he invented “the first modern day, drive-through window,” when he rolled out his second Wendy’s location in Columbus, Ohio—but that was in 1971, a good twenty-three years after Snyder’s invention. Even McDonald’s first drive-through window didn’t appear until 1975…

…the drive-through became so pervasive that decades later, in the 1990s, car manufacturers began to outfit front seats with cup holders to facilitate dashboard dining. Fast-food restaurants created meals tailor-made for one-handed steering and one-handed eating free from spills and dripping. More than a half century after Harry Snyder premiered his invention, the fast-food industry spawned a host of high tech gadgets all founded on the same premise as that first two-way speakerphone. However, according to government records, Harry Snyder never took out a patent on his invention.

Quality Obsession

In-N-Out’s famously limited menu of three burger items, french fries, soft drinks, lemonade, and milkshakes—a menu that has barely changed since Harry Truman was president. There were no Mediterranean wraps, Caesar chicken salads, or children’s menus. Facing the antiseptically clean open kitchen, customers saw that there were no heat lamps, freezers, or microwaves, and the heavy odor of grease and meat was curiously absent. There were no bags of flash-frozen fries on-site either. Rather, in a procedure that has gone unchanged since the chain first opened in 1948, a cheery associate hand-peeled, cut, and fried the raw Kennebec potatoes grown especially for the chain. At In-N-Out, the lettuce is still leafed by hand, the sponge-dough buns are baked daily—and both the cheese and the ice cream for its shakes remain 100 percent dairy.

The system was based on three simple words: “Quality, Cleanliness, and Service.”

Harry was a micromanager before the term existed. A rigorous taskmaster, he was not inclined to leave even the smallest details to others. From the start, he kept scrupulous records, tracking how many burgers were sold daily and noting how many paper cups were dispensed.

Harry was known to be fanatical about quality. He insisted on inspecting everything, and everything had to be done to his specifications. When it came to In-N-Out’s beef purchases, Harry constantly visited his meat supplier where he’d watch the butchers cut up the beef and make sure he got exactly what he paid for. He treated his suppliers well and never tried to exploit his relationships. Deals were struck on a handshake and lasted decades, often ending only if the supplier went out of business—or failed to meet Harry’s exacting standards. It was a policy that lasted for years. When it was discovered that a vendor had hidden a batch of substandard onions within a truckload of good ones, the supplier was unceremoniously dumped.

A frugal and practical man in most respects, Harry was profligate when it came to purchasing the freshest, highest grade of meat, potatoes, and produce; he refused to sacrifice quality for the sake of profits. From the start, he was adamant about using only four to five slices of the thick, middle part of big, plump beefsteak tomatoes and onions. He demonstrated the same resolve when it came to using only the crisp inner leaves of the head of lettuce, throwing the rest away. It was a practice that never changed. “Mr. Snyder stressed quality from the first day he opened for business,” his wife once observed. “No matter what the price, he believed that the customer deserved the best product he could produce.”

He didn’t feel that it was beneath him to scrub the floor or pick up trash. He even insisted that the gravel drive-through lane be swept between busy times. In fact, one of the Snyders’ innovations was the open kitchen. Behind a large glass window, In-N-Out’s customers could see how the burgers and fries were prepared and cooked and kept scrupulously clean. Harry made sure that his workers frequently washed their hands, especially after each time they took out the trash. “That place was immaculate,” remembered Lorraine O’Brien…

Harry did not believe in cutting corners. It was his belief that the main reason people came to In-N-Out was for the burgers—if the burgers weren’t done properly, the customers wouldn’t come back. From the start, In-N-Out ran a customer-driven shop.

Around 1961, Harry’s nod to advanced technology was to switch from gas to electric grills—but the In-N-Out hamburgers still required the human touch. It was the stores’ managers who continued to flip the chain’s burgers. There were no infrared heat lamps or microwave ovens, no prepackaged or…

To Harry’s mind, there was just no substitute for the real thing. All hamburgers were made from fresh, 100 percent additive-, filler-, and preservative-free beef. By 1963, as many of the leading chains were beginning to use frozen beef patties,* Harry Snyder hired In-N-Out’s first butcher. He wanted to exert more control…

In-N-Out’s butcher boned, hand-cut the chuck’s front ribs and shoulder (Harry insisted that no other part of the steer was ever used), ground it up into beef, and molded it into hamburger patties before delivering them fresh to each store. “This way,” the company later…

…the potatoes were picked in the morning and delivered to In-N-Out the same evening. Harry made sure to scrutinize the freshly delivered sacks. They were inspected for starch content and a test batch of fries was made up right away. If the…

In an industry that was substituting chemically processed, prepackaged, and frozen food for the real thing, In-N-Out continued to use traditional sponge-dough buns, fresh-baked daily, that took several hours to rise—its competitors took to purchasing buns injected…

As others began using cheaper and less labor-intensive concentrated ice milk mixtures (with preservatives that could be frozen later and reconstituted into milkshakes), In-N-Out refused to use…

Rich continued to stick by the company’s promises to pay full price for the highest quality ingredients. When prices plunged or spiked, or there were shortages due to weather or other events, In-N-Out always absorbed the cost. As long as the quality remained exceptional, he did not look for cheaper suppliers. It was part of the Snyders’ business practice to take care of their purveyors as they did their customers and associates. After the fire, when In-N-Out was unable to deliver supplies to the chain, a group of In-N-Out’s longtime suppliers delivered their goods to individual stores until the warehouse was rebuilt. In-N-Out Burger had always taken care of its suppliers, and, following the warehouse fire, this time the suppliers took care of the burger chain.

Many of In-N-Out’s vendor and supplier relationships stretched back decades, to the time of Harry’s first two-way speaker box. Begun with a handshake and held together through goodwill, they represented the importance of personal relationships to the Snyders’ business philosophy.

Notably, only store managers manned the grill. Unlike most fast-food chains, the company considered a grill position a highly skilled job. After all, it was the altar upon which the whole enterprise rested. It was a very intricate operation, since every single burger was made to order—a beef patty did not go down until an order ticket went up. It required a tremendous amount of coordination and speed, requiring three to six months just to learn to operate and manage.

Simplicity & Focus

And even as In-N-Out’s competitors later raced around the globe, franchising identical box-like fast-food stores on rows of identical strip malls in nearly identical towns, In-N-Out never wavered from that simple philosophy.

Everywhere, that is, except at the little In-N-Out Burger stand on Garvey Avenue where Harry Snyder had made a promise to himself that he had no intention of breaking: “Keep it real simple,” he always said. “Do one thing and do it the best you can.”

Harry drilled into his workers the singular importance of quality and simplicity. His maxim, “Do one thing and do it well,” was not only repeated with some frequency—it was strictly adhered to. Harry kept the menu simple and streamlined. He didn’t see much advantage in introducing new items or tinkering with the ones they already offered.

Harry’s business acumen had nothing to do with fancy management consultants or popular buzzwords and everything to do with his own core belief: “Keep it real simple,” he said repeatedly. “Do one thing and do it the best you can.” And he stuck to his word.

In the chain’s history to date, it had only added one new product to its menu—and that was the soft drink 7-Up.

Treating Associates Well

“They were very particular about their people smiling,” he said. “They wanted their employees to feel like they were part of the company, like they were owners themselves.”

Harry offered his young hires more than just a job. For starters, he paid them well. When In-N-Out first started, California’s minimum wage was sixty-five cents an hour, but Harry paid a dollar an hour, plus one free hamburger per shift. He believed in paying for quality, and that included wages.

Harry offered his workers the opportunity to build a career. If he sensed promise, he did what he could to help the young men develop. He always tried to give his workers reasonable goals to strive for, promoting them when the goals were met. While everyone had to start at the bottom—cleaning up trash and peeling potatoes—everyone was also given the opportunity to advance.

Long before Starbucks, the Snyders called their customers “guests.”

The Snyders made sure to know each individual by name. In fact, they banished the words “employees” and “workers” altogether and instead referred to them strictly as “associates.” The result was that from the outset, In-N-Out had the feel not of a workplace but of a joint enterprise in which everyone shared.

The Snyders always treated their associates with respect, giving them a sense of ownership. In return, In-N-Out’s associates felt incredibly loyal to the Snyders. It is likely that the most important decision that Harry and Esther Snyder made was the loyalty that they built between In-N-Out and its associates.

Initially, the Snyders assumed that most of their associates would gain experience at In-N-Out and then move on to something else or even to another fast-food restaurant. Instead, a bottleneck of talented, qualified people emerged who—instead of moving on—wanted to move up within In-N-Out. It became clear that the person standing on the third rung of the ladder could not reach the second and the person holding onto the number two spot was never going to climb to the top unless somebody above either quit, which seemed ever more unlikely a scenario as time went on—or the Snyders got rid of someone.

A significant number of those early associates who began in In-N-Out’s tiny kitchen as potato peelers ended up staying on for decades.

As a result, In-N-Out could also boast one of the lowest turnover rates in a high-churn industry.

…in the fast-food world, little more than half of the workforce stays behind the counter for one year or more, with roughly 75 percent of employees staying on beyond six months. After that, the numbers decrease substantially: 53 percent remain one year, 25 percent stay two years, and only 12 percent remain three years or longer. In the case of In-N-Out Burger, its managers maintained an average tenure of fourteen years, while its part-time associates remained, on average, two years.

“We try and maintain the highest quality level possible, and to do that you need good training and good people. That’s why we pay the highest wages in the industry.” He added, “It means we tend to keep our employees longer than at other places, and the reduced turnover helps us maintain consistency in our products.” Notably, the philosophy did not trade on or lead to either higher prices or lower-quality food.

Apparently, the consultant told Rich that if he slashed salaries, In-N-Out could save a “ton of money”; the very idea infuriated Rich. This contradicted the very foundation of In-N-Out’s philosophy and its success. When Rich sourly recounted the story, he said the suggestion was exactly the kind of advice one would get “from a guy who wears a suit and who thinks you don’t pay a guy who cooks hamburgers that much money.” Like his father, Rich shared in the belief that running a successful fast-food business was not about cutting corners or about purchasing the right equipment. What it boiled down to was people management.

When talking to store managers, he was always careful to refer the shops as “your stores” and never asked them “What store do you manage?” He wanted them to have pride of ownership. Regardless of anyone’s position or length of time with the company, Rich treated everyone equally and as if they were all special. “He really lived the Christian belief of treat your neighbor as yourself,” exclaimed Rich’s good friend Heath Habbeshaw.

“If you are going to grow your organization,” explained William Martin, who devised the University’s initial training manual and curriculum, “you need a training program, and that’s the bottom line. That was Rich’s motivation for the University. He really understood that.” Originally built as a full-service drive-through restaurant (if bigger than a typical In-N-Out store), the University was where management-level employees could receive instruction and learn how to run a unit in a real-world environment.* It also allowed the company to reinforce its own particular methodologies and strategies.

In essence, the secret shopper system was really just a larger-scale variation on Esther and Harry’s frequent store visits. As a former associate put it, “They were mostly looking for perfection.”

Staying Independent

Short on experience but long on common sense, Harry sought advice from Carl N. Karcher, one of fast food’s pioneers, who had built a small, growing chain of hot dog stands in Los Angeles called Carl’s Jr.

At thirty-one years old, Karcher was a few years younger than Harry Snyder—but he was an elder statesman when it came to the fast-food business. That first meeting would be the start of a lifelong friendship between the Karchers and the Snyders, who went on to become friendly rivals. The two couples had much in common. Tireless and hands-on, each pair worked as a team, and both couples went on to build their businesses based on equal doses of hard work, strong faith, and dedication to family…

When Karcher met the Snyders, Carl told them to focus on a great product and to maintain the personal touch. “It’s so important to make people feel special,”

“I have always said that competition just makes you stronger. You shouldn’t be afraid of the competition. They make you stay on top of your game. If another chain started near a Carl’s Jr., it showed that we had a good location and it brought more people in. I told the Snyders that it’s very important to have respect for your competitors. I may have had a different philosophy than some of the others. But I believe that your competitors are really your friends. They keep you on your toes.”

Harry insisted on maintaining a quality product at a reasonable price, while Noddin reportedly wanted to increase prices and cut costs. At the time, Noddin’s strategy was becoming common practice among fast-food chains—but Harry was determined not to go the way of every other burger and hot dog stand. He believed that his way was the right way. A stubbornly independent sort, Harry had a real aversion to ceding to the opinion of others, especially when he thought he was right. By 1952, Harry and Charles Noddin dissolved their partnership for good and split up the existing stores. Harry kept the In-N-Out Burger name and three of the stores including Number One in Baldwin Park. Noddin went on to open another burger chain in Pasadena. But the experience taught Harry a lesson; he insisted that In-N-Out remain forever independent. After that, as one friend said, “Harry swore he’d never sell out or take in a partner.”

Harry insisted on using cash, not credit, to open each new restaurant. Harry followed the old rules. He built one store, saved money; he built a second store and saved more money. He didn’t open another until he could afford to and had the trained managers to run it—that was the Harry Snyder way. He didn’t take out a loan. He didn’t take on debt. He was beholden to no one. While Harry’s desire to own the land underneath his restaurants certainly limited the pace of In-N-Out’s rollout, it also proved a remarkably shrewd financial move.

The couple was unmoved when Ray Kroc more than made good on his promise to open one hundred new McDonald’s stores a year. Actually, the Snyders remained remarkably unconcerned. Harry Snyder had an extraordinarily lucid vision for In-N-Out Burger, and Esther Snyder shared her husband’s view. If anything, the couple had demonstrated time and again that they were as practical as they were astute. They had no interest in selling or franchising In-N-Out Burger. If you did that, Harry insisted, you’d lose control and focus. And they weren’t interested in using their small and growing fortune to create an even bigger pot of gold if that meant taking in investors or selling to a larger company. Early on, Harry Snyder had added another tenet to his management stockpile. He saw no point in sacrificing quality for profits.

Harry resisted opportunities to franchise or to cash out. Despite the enormous pressures and the options surrounding him, Harry rejected the conventional wisdom of the industry. Inside the company, franchising was a dirty word.

There was no hierarchical management structure, no bureaucracy, and there were no shareholders to answer to. There were just Harry, making decisions from his gut, and Esther, standing by his side, looking after the books.

In 1973, after twenty-five years, there were only about a dozen In-N-Out Burger outlets. He owned each store and the land underneath them. The company’s debt was negligible—and that was exactly how Harry liked it.

Harry Snyder had little interest in media adulation. From his perspective, In-N-Out was simply a different creature than its competitors. With its fresh ingredients and custom orders (that took an average of twelve minutes from grill to delivery), In-N-Out barely fit the description of what was considered a fast-food restaurant. Quietly, as the 1970s unfolded, Harry continued to set In-N-Out on a course that would put it in direct opposition to the industry that was mushrooming all around him.

Since In-N-Out never followed the strategies or trends of its competitors, it was barely affected by the cyclical turn of events that first catapulted fast food to success and then savaged the industry. The Snyders’ choices had positioned In-N-Out as a brand that could withstand the numerous industry hits and downturns to come—that is, as long as it stuck to its winning formula.

…without shareholders peering over their shoulders, the Snyders were free to spend their money where they wanted—and that was on maintaining high standards.

From the very beginning, it had been the Snyders’ policy not to divulge the company’s numbers. They ignored all requests to do so, regularly frustrating the financial community.

“Every investment banker in the country would love to take them public.” As early as 1986, Rich remarked that he had to deny the IPO rumor “at least twenty-five times a week.”

“In-N-Out is a great vehicle to do something like that,” he once confessed. “But my feeling is that I would be prostituting what my parents made by doing that. There is money to be made by doing those things, but you lose something, and I don’t want to lose what I was raised with all my life.” Similarly, In-N-Out routinely rejected frequent requests to franchise (reportedly thirty to thirty-five a week). After a time, they didn’t even entertain the inquiries. The family saw franchising as a surefire path to losing quality control. “Franchising,” Rich stated firmly, “was simply not going to happen.”

Rich Snyder liked to think that success could be achieved through honest dealings. Even during troubled times, he believed in fair play. For him, a man’s word was his bond. It was more than just an aphorism. Rich lived that philosophy, and he expected the people he surrounded himself with, including business partners, to act similarly.

Rich felt betrayed. In-N-Out Burger had ties to PepsiCo going back to his parents’ first days in the business. The way Rich saw it, In-N-Out Burger had a longtime bond with PepsiCo; by going back on their word, the company had broken that bond. Rich proceeded cautiously. He did a kind of quiet beta testing, replacing Pepsi-Cola with Coca-Cola in ten stores to see how the customers would react. The response was positive, and in 1992 Rich made the switch a permanent one, substituting Coke for Pepsi chain-wide.*

Industry Contrast

Soon a number of entrepreneurs launched their own fast-food restaurants based on the self-service style of McDonald’s. This new way of eating quickly spread to the rest of the country—the era of the fast-food restaurant began in earnest.

The success of McDonald’s spurred another San Bernardino resident and former World War II marine named Glen W. Bell Jr. to turn his trio of Mexican food stands (called Taco Tia’s) into what eventually became Taco Bell.

Emblematic of this radical new culinary trend was the introduction in 1953 of the frozen “TV Dinner” invented by a C. A. Swanson & Sons of Omaha food technologist named Betty Cronin. The prepackaged meal of turkey and potatoes (sold for ninety-eight cents) could go from the oven to a TV tray—and when finished, just as swiftly and neatly to the garbage can. Swanson’s “Quick Frozen Turkey Dinner” was an immediate hit. Initially expecting to sell five thousand units, the company actually sold 10 million meals during the TV Dinner’s first year on the market.

The Seeman Brothers of New York introduced the world’s first instant iced tea, the White Rose Redi-Tea, in 1953. A year later, as the prices for cocoa spiked, Robert Welch, a Boston candy maker, gathered a group of chemists and came up with a less expensive but satisfactory replacement. In 1959, General Foods Corporation began marketing a powdered, non-carbonated, orange-flavored beverage called Tang.

It was the era of easy, instant food. And nowhere did this budding emphasis on the frozen, dehydrated, prepackaged, and automated find a more welcoming home than the growing fast-food industry. Leading the charge was McDonald’s.

After twelve years of insisting on fresh beef, reluctantly, and after much internal opposition, Kroc made the switch. He agreed after a small, family-owned Pennsylvania meat de-boning firm called Equity Meat Company had proved that it could standardize its system of cryogenically freezing beef patties that didn’t leave the meat desiccated and tasteless. Equity made it possible to preserve frozen patties for extended periods of time. With few exceptions, this proved to be a point of no return for the rapidly expanding fast-food industry.

In 1965, Simplot, a tough-as-nails Idaho entrepreneur and farmer, met with Kroc and convinced him to buy his quick-freeze potatoes. They were both self-made men, and each had made a fortune on their own terms. Simplot seemed to understand that there was really only one point on which he could persuade Kroc. As he later recalled, “I told him frozen fries would allow him to better control the quality and consistency of McDonald’s potato supply.” Before long, Simplot became the frozen french fry supplier for such outfits as Burger King, Wendy’s, and Kentucky Fried Chicken.

In 1946, the U.S. Department of Agriculture required that the fat content in ground beef classified as hamburger not exceed 30 percent. As a result, meat suppliers filled in the remainder with a number of cheaper non-beef additives and meat extenders such as soy protein that could absorb moisture and reduce cooking time. Low commercial value parts of cattle like tripe and cheek were ground into the beef while nitrates were used to enhance the meat’s pink color.

“You would negotiate a price with the drive-in and then find a way to make it work economically. All-beef hamburger was a myth. There were very few additives that weren’t used.” During these years, an entirely new field of artificial and chemical food additives developed, and the exploding fast-food industry was beginning to rely heavily on them. In Fast Food Nation, author Eric Schlosser’s polemic on the industry, he lists page after withering page of the numerous chemicals, additives, and coloring agents lacing the leading chains’ salads, soft drinks, condiments, and sandwich buns. In one particularly…

Harry Snyder was having…

The advertising campaigns had storylines like Saturday morning children’s shows, they had jingles and slogans that millions of consumers knew by heart. They focused on fun and fantasy and, for a time, seemingly everything but the actual product. The story at In-N-Out remained static; the message was hamburgers and fries, and it was broadcast by its customers. The chain’s simplicity and old-fashioned values certainly endeared In-N-Out to its longtime regulars, establishing an uncommon customer loyalty—one that its competitors spent hundreds of millions of dollars trying to create.

Just as In-N-Out Burger was the antithesis of McDonald’s, Harry Snyder was in many ways the opposite of Ray Kroc. The flamboyant Kroc had encouraged publicity at every turn. Very early in the game, he hired publicity teams who succeeded in getting stories on both Kroc and McDonald’s published in newspapers across the country.

Harry had little interest in such attention-grabbing tricks or publicity stunts. Esther’s modesty and her husband’s salt-of-the-earth soul recoiled from the kind of promotional splashes going all around them. Their own promotions were small-scale, such as producing wooden nickels redeemable for soft drinks. Their philosophy was simple; the product—if it’s a good one—should sell itself, and everything else is smoke and mirrors.

Harry and Esther believed in serving the communities in which In-N-Out operated. The Snyders made any number of charitable donations, and their efforts at promotion were often connected to grassroots community and philanthropic endeavors. The Snyders served their burgers at schools and little league games for free or at a significant discount, and they offered their own expertise and help whenever Baldwin Park’s Adult School asked.

“Everyone wanted franchises in the mid-sixties. Then came the shakeout a few years later, and franchising no longer was the easy game it once was.” To sustain growth, fast-food chains began penetrating foreign markets. At the same time that a series of hits and downturns gripped the fast-food industry, beef prices were rising sharply. In order to maintain and reclaim customers and spike softening sales, the chains began to tinker with their classic menus. Over the next few years, nearly all of them began to introduce new items.

Soon the chains turned on one another. They undercut each other on price and tried to outdo each other with promotional giveaways, movie tie-ins, and a host of prize bonanzas. They erected colorful children’s playgrounds.

In-N-Out Burger stayed largely removed from the war zone; this was not In-N-Out’s fight. The family-owned burger chain didn’t advertise, didn’t undercut on price, didn’t sacrifice quality, and didn’t change the menu. At In-N-Out Burger, there were no sideshows.

By the time that Ray Kroc died in January 1984, almost eight thousand pairs of golden arches circled the globe in some thirty-one countries, generating $8 billion annually. The ledger of the two companies’ numbers listed side by side might have seemed horribly mismatched, save for one figure; In-N-Out Burger was meeting the industry giant’s revenues on a store-to-store basis. In something of a surprise for the notoriously tight-lipped company, Rich himself admitted as much when he told a local reporter that in terms of volume, the average In-N-Out location came “pretty close” to the volume at an average McDonald’s.

After Taco Bell introduced the concept of value pricing in 1988, every big chain followed suit. Each year saw some kind of price slashing battle. In 1996, Taco Bell launched its $1.99 Extreme Value Combos—a year later, McDonald’s announced the fifty-five-cent Big Mac…

By 1997, the fast-food industry reached $109.5 billion in revenues, closing in on the $114.3 billion in sales generated by sit-down restaurants.

In 2005, according to the food industry consulting and research firm Technomic Inc., In-N-Out stores were raking in an estimated $1.79 million, making the chain one of the top earners among the nation’s fast-food joints and placing it second behind McDonald’s, whose store sales were $1.98 million.*

The Snyder Family

When it came to hiring female employees, however, Harry put his foot down. His objection came down to two words: “monkey business.” There was too much opportunity for grab ass and messing around, he believed. “No ‘foolishness,’ he called it,” said Teagle. “Things were different back then.” Clearly, Harry’s theory predated workplace guidelines on sexual harassment. Aside from Esther Snyder, females did not work in In-N-Out stores for another thirty years.

Harry’s fastidious nature did not allow him to sit back and relax. Harry Snyder was the first person at the shop in the morning opening the store, inspecting the sacks of potatoes for the fries, ensuring that everything ran smoothly and to his exacting specifications. It wasn’t unusual to see Harry picking up trash by the side of the road or leafing lettuce. And he was the last person there at night.

Since the Snyders’ house was directly across the street from In-N-Out, he rarely seemed to be able to relax and call it a night. In the evenings, Harry regularly kept an eye on the restaurant through his living room window. Frequently, he’d be sitting on the sofa watching TV when all of sudden he would stand up and sprint over to the shop and pitch in.

There was nothing flashy about their house. As one of the brothers’ childhood friends remarked, “They had tons of money but they sure didn’t flaunt it.” Despite their financial success, the Snyders remained a hardworking, down-to-earth couple with straightforward pursuits.

Harry and Esther were determined that their boys would not grow up to be spoiled. As youngsters, Guy and Rich were given chores and put to work at In-N-Out doing odd jobs like picking up trash and later peeling potatoes and working the grill, gradually moving up the ranks—and they were paid just like everybody else.

Once, when Rich was about eleven, he wrote “HELP CLEAN UP” on a chalkboard in the back room of In-N-Out. Harry misread the note. He thought his son was referring to the associates as help and gave him a bitter verbal lashing. “Never call anybody help,” he hissed. “These people are our associates and we embrace them like family.” Rich was eventually able to clear up the misunderstanding with his father, but it was a lesson he never forgot.

Harry had the opportunity to find out at least once, when his sons played hooky from school. It was an infraction clearly not in line with the academy’s stringent standards. However, for some reason the administration did not inform the Snyders of the transgression. According to an intimate, Harry eventually found out. A man of volcanic temperament, Harry Snyder appeared at the school immediately to set Brown’s supervisors straight. “He reamed them,” explained the friend. “He yelled, ‘Don’t ever cover for my kids! When they do something wrong, I want to know.’”

Guy developed a crush on Kathy. And when he was not quite eighteen, he made a gallant and rather old-fashioned gesture. He got up the courage to ask her father, Norm Nissen, for permission to ask his thirteen-year-old daughter out on a date. However, Norm turned him down. “My dad said, ‘Noooo, you’re too old,’” explained Kathy. It was another thirty years before Guy got up the nerve to ask her out again.

Harry Snyder was extraordinarily discerning when it came to deciding on when and how to open a new store. Essentially, it came down to three decisive factors: his associates, a location, and the balance sheet.

Harry was known to drop by his In-N-Outs unannounced. He kept a close watch on his growing chain. Harry and Esther liked to check on the shops often; it gave them the opportunity to stay in close contact with all of their associates. The couple liked to know each of them on a first name basis. Visiting the stores, chatting with the associates, and checking to be sure that procedures were followed delighted Esther in particular.

“We had a meeting with the city’s planning staff,” he remembered. “And there was this planner just out of Cal Poly [College]. He was greener than grass. He said, ‘I think your hamburger stands are ugly.’” With that Harry turned red and jumped to his feet and let loose with a string of expletives. After calming down, Harry turned to the young planner and demanded, “How many millions are you worth? How many successful businesses do you run?” Recounting the tale, Blewett, who had at one time owned a successful floor coverings store in Baldwin Park, concluded: “I love that story. It’s about city planners. People with no brains.”

…around 1974, Harry Snyder was diagnosed with lung cancer. The family was stunned. He had begun smoking cigarettes as a high school student in the 1930s when a pack of Chesterfields accompanied his regular game of rummy, but he had decided to quit in 1959. By then, however, the nearly thirty years of smoking had taken their toll.

It was Harry and Esther’s intention to keep In-N-Out Burger a private, family-run business for succeeding generations of Snyders. Harry Snyder had very particular ideas about family and business; he had no interest in seeing his sweat equity disappear into some big company’s idea of what In-N-Out Burger could be. On this point, he and Esther were in sync. His company was his family, but only his family had his blood.

Perhaps it was because Harry was the classic self-made man, but he wasn’t going to simply bestow leadership. His successor would have to earn it.

Although she loved her house, Esther moved out, largely at Rich’s insistence, who preferred that she live in a one-story house rather than aggravate her bad knees climbing stairs. In a sentimental gesture, he had the door from her childhood home installed in her new house.

Her sweet, grandmotherly demeanor notwithstanding, Esther remained razor sharp. She sat quietly in meetings, listening intently. She spoke up rarely, and when she did, everyone listened. Although she would have preferred to leave the chain largely as it was when Harry was alive, Esther unequivocally supported Rich.

It wasn’t uncommon for Guy to arrive, put on Kathy’s apron, and help clean up. “People would’ve died if they knew the CEO of In-N-Out was bussing tables,” she laughed at the memory. “He loved nothing more than to eat a patty melt on the patio and bus tables.” At one point, Kathy said, he made an offer to buy Norm’s—but she refused. “I said no. You leave my family business alone and I’ll leave you yours.”

Guy had hired a genealogist and a private detective to track down his father’s relatives in Amsterdam. Once there, they met for the first time, and the reunited families took a boat cruise and had lunch together.

Guy apparently realized that he needed to do something to protect his only child and the only living direct descendant of the Snyder family.

“She said, ‘I don’t know how to talk to an old lady,’” he recalled. “‘And she bugs me about college and working at In-N-Out all the time.’”

Rich’s Leadership

Seven months shy of his twenty-fifth birthday, Rich Snyder was named president of In-N-Out Burger, and whatever reservations he had, he had quickly pushed them aside.

primogeniture

Unlike many heirs who seek to make their mark on the family firm by completely remaking it, when Rich took over In-N-Out Burger he saw the wisdom in maintaining his parents’ 1948 formula.

“Rich was very unique,” explained his cousin Bob Meserve. “He had a lot of his dad’s qualities. But Rich was shrewder as a businessperson. Harry was old school and Rich was new school. Rich had a vision. He knew what he what he wanted to accomplish.” What Rich was not, however, was a college graduate. Despite his considerable natural talents, it was something that seemed to leave him slightly insecure. His dyslexia, diagnosed only when he was an adult, amplified the feeling.

The affiliations gave Rich the opportunity to mix with other self-starters as well as second-and third-generation businessmen who had also inherited their family businesses. They provided a kind of fraternity as well as forums in which he could candidly and safely discuss issues, solve problems, and exchange a range of ideas on everything from marketing to taxes to human resources. Within this circle, Rich was universally well regarded for his energy, enthusiasm, creativity, and his obvious gifts as a leader.

Guy Snyder was pursuing a life mostly outside the family business. Officially, he was In-N-Out’s executive vice president, but it had been obvious that it was Rich who was running the company. He was earning a salary that was reported to be close to seven figures although he was not an active presence in the company.

At one point, Rich poached an executive from McDonald’s, but apparently his ideas (and attitude) didn’t mesh with In-N-Out’s culture, and his tenure was short-lived.

…during President Reagan’s second term in office, Rich began printing the motto “The Best Enterprise Is a Free Enterprise ‘God Bless America’” on the company’s official stationery. Enthusiastic and filled with a deep love for Jesus, Rich was an uncommon mogul. He was dedicated to God, his family, and In-N-Out Burger. Rich felt a heartfelt responsibility to make the world a better place, and he carried that burden on his broad shoulders. It wasn’t power or gaining an edge for his company that motivated his involvement in politics, but a desire to make a significant change and his core belief that Republican Party values were the way to do that.

“Why pay $2 million for a property if I’m going to sell the same amount of burgers as I would on the property I pay $500,000 for?” Unlike nearly every one of its competitors, In-N-Out rarely if ever put more than one drive-through in the same market. The fact that there were so few locations, spaced so far apart, only added to In-N-Out’s allure. It made eating a Double-Double a conscious act, an experience.

It was obvious that the slow, controlled rollout strategy had contributed greatly to In-N-Out’s mystique and popularity. Rich and his crew of relatively new professional managers were pressing for a broader expansion. At the same time, some of the top managers, including many of the old-timers who had started under Harry, believed that In-N-Out’s mystique was one of the chain’s most important assets. Many of those longtime managers spearheaded the argument against further growth at the expense of its mystique.

paucity

Given the limited number of stores, even if no new stores were opened, the chain needed to find some way to relieve the congestion.

…the mystique of his chain only went so far. After talking about how special In-N-Out was, the groups complained about the long lines and distance between stores that left their fries cold by the time they arrived home.

Rich went with his gut and decided to proceed with his rollout. In executing his desire to open some ten new stores per year, Rich had to reconsider certain factors of the chain’s longtime growth strategy. Cautiously, he had begun moving out of the sites in peripheral suburbs to more central locations.

Rich also began to open new stores in markets where an In-N-Out was already located—slowly, sparingly, and, for many years, not within a six-mile radius of one another.

…after an initial drop-off, the original store’s volume not only rebounded but increased.

Rich was also finding that increasingly he was up against large property developers. If he wanted to continue to operate in key locations, he had no choice but to lease from them.

Around 1990, In-N-Out owned all but a handful of its sixty-four stores. That changed over time; eventually, the chain owned roughly 60 percent of its stores and leased the rest.

Not long after his wedding, Rich began strategizing for both his and In-N-Out’s future. With his personal life settled in Newport Beach, Rich decided to move In-N-Out’s corporate headquarters closer to his new home from its longtime seat in Baldwin Park to the city of Irvine.

The last vestiges of Baldwin Park’s bucolic charm—such as the cast-iron smudge pots used to protect the orange groves from frost in the winter—belonged to history now. The dairy farms and chicken ranches were long gone. Even the famous Vias turkey ranch had moved to Apple Valley seventy-five miles away, where it was converted into an ostrich ranch.

He also began telling his intimates that he was “at peace with the Lord.” To more than one, he said, “If I don’t see you again—I love you.”

Tragedy & Succession

Rich Snyder, Phil West, Jack Sims, and the two pilots were all killed instantly.

Rich and Phil West had known each other since childhood; West’s grandmother lived across the street from the Snyders in San Dimas. They grew up together in the halcyon postwar San Gabriel Valley, playing army in the avocado fields, chasing girls, and going to In-N-Out Burger.

Esther considered West another son, calling him “my best friend in the company.” He was Rich’s right hand.

Widowed after barely one and half years of marriage, Christina Snyder was shattered. “To me, it felt like I lost an entire volume of life,” she recalled plaintively.

Just two days after the crash, Rick Plate showed up at Christina’s house with an eight-week-old golden retriever wearing a red bow. The dog was to have been Rich’s surprise Christmas gift to his wife.

Rich’s death came at a crucial time in In-N-Out Burger’s forty-five-year history. He had transformed the small local burger joint into a growing empire that went head-to-head with the corporate giants in the fast-food industry. In fact, secretly, In-N-Out was the envy of the industry. The ninety-three-store chain was pulling in about $116 million annually and employed roughly three thousand associates.

A ripple of uneasiness spread within the company. The sudden loss of such a charismatic and forceful leader left longtime associates concerned about what would happen next.

In those days following Rich’s death, the phone at corporate headquarters in Baldwin Park rang incessantly with calls from prospective buyers who wanted nothing more than to pounce on what they perceived to be the vulnerable carcass of the Snyder family.

…one of them was PepsiCo, which had for years been snapping up fast-food chains across the country.

In reality, In-N-Out Burger was never on the market. There was never any suggestion that it would be sold—at least not inside the Baldwin Park headquarters. For all of the talk among industry watchers, the one thing they had no understanding of was the will of Esther Snyder. Those closest to her said that her devotion to the company and her loyalty to its associates trumped any possible consideration of a sale.

In early January 1994, In-N-Out Burger had come to a decision. At seventy-three, Esther Snyder stepped in as president, assuming a larger role in the chain’s day-to-day operations…

Rich had proved such an exceptional leader; a vibrant, charismatic president, Rich had led In-N-Out Burger to great success largely on the basis of his personality. He had quintupled the size of the chain, increasing profits handily. He managed do so without diluting the unique character that had turned the burger chain into a cult phenomenon.

One of the first to go was Andrew Puzder. “As soon as Rich died I was out of the inner circle,” he explained. “I represented Esther and sided with Rich.” After Guy took over as chairman of In-N-Out Burger, he said, “I was kind of out of it.” In something of an ironic twist, Puzder went on to work for Carl’s Jr. founder Carl Karcher. After representing Karcher in an insider trading case (later settled with the SEC), Puzder became general counsel for Carl Karcher Enterprises. And in 2000, he was named the president and chairman of the company.

Guy was singularly unhappy with the decision to put his brother’s widow, Christina, on In-N-Out’s board of directors. The two were said to have a rocky relationship. Guy had indicated to some that he didn’t regard her as really part of the Snyder family—after all, she had been married to Rich for less than two years. He began agitating for her removal. Esther had no problem with Christina as a board member, and the two remained close. Emotionally sustaining one another during the difficult first year after Rich’s death, Esther often stayed at Christina’s house overnight for comfort. However, exhausted, non-confrontational, and perhaps even a bit guilty, she did not oppose her son.

pique,

In the end, the executives stayed put, as did the tension between Guy and In-N-Out’s top managers.

It was not lost on close observers that In-N-Out continued to prosper without its most dynamic leader. All Guy had to do was follow the system already in place. Rich’s own charismatic presence had created a very specific corporate culture. It seemed that his legacy was not the achievements of growth and profits but the simple fact that the company he built continued to succeed without him. Moreover, it was a company where people were happy to come to work every day.

Despite his numerous efforts to stay clean, Guy’s troubles soon re-surfaced.

“The way he looked at rehab,” explained one of his friends, was “do those thirty days and get out. The whole time he was in there he was craving drugs, and when he’d get out, he couldn’t wait to start all over again.”

…it was due in no small part to the talented and loyal executive team that In-N-Out Burger remained on a stable and successful course. It was Guy Snyder’s life that was turning volatile, falling into an unpredictable pattern of good days and bad days, bright spots and periods of darkness.

louche

Largely estranged from his family, Guy was worn down and felt increasingly isolated. He moved out of the spacious home he had shared with Kathy in Claremont, and the millionaire who could check into any luxury hotel instead holed up in his motor trailer that was parked inside the old In-N-Out Burger warehouse in Baldwin Park. At times, and briefly following his divorce, Guy would stay up at the Flying Dutchman Ranch, hoping to see his daughter.

It was a tragic ending for a man for whom life had offered so many opportunities. Unable to measure up to his father’s expectations, long in the shadow of his younger brother, unable to shake his substance abuse, Guy sank into a life of drugs and despair. Following Guy’s death, the American and California flags and another with the words “Don’t Tread on Me” flew at half-staff outside In-N-Out’s Baldwin Park headquarters. “It was sad and kind of shocking when he died,” said old friend Paul Althouse. “That boy had everything, and all that money.” Later he wistfully exclaimed, “He was a hell of a guy. The drugs screwed up his life.”

There seemed to be a lot of blame and ill-feeling surrounding Guy’s last days. Lynda and Mark Taylor excluded several friends and family members from the memorial. Many of Guy’s friends, including those from his high school days, were barred. Significantly, the Wright family was also excluded.

…in the six years between the time that Guy was named chairman following his brother Rich’s death in 1993, the chain’s revenue had jumped almost 83 percent. In-N-Out had pushed out geographically to Nevada and was about to move into Arizona. It had earned the unfettered loyalty of its customers, envy from its competitors, and plaudits in every imaginable category. When asked to characterize the mark that Guy Snyder left on the beloved chain, an insider remarked, “He just didn’t change a thing. He knew well enough to just leave it alone.”

At seventy-nine, Esther Snyder stepped up to assume control of the chain that she had founded with her husband more than half a century earlier. “Don’t let her age fool you,” exclaimed Mark Taylor, who quickly began taking on a more prominent role in the company, to the Los Angeles Times. “She is as sharp as a tack. She is the hardest-working Snyder there ever was. She remains the president and is our leader and has all of our support.”

Despite Esther’s obvious determination and spirit, her old friend Carl Karcher voiced the concerns of many when he told the Los Angeles Times, “Esther is very, very tired. She’s really had her ups and downs.”

A private woman, Esther rarely spoke of the heartbreaking loss of her husband and her sons. A gentle and gracious soul, it was her faith that kept her steady through all of the emotional upheavals, and she refused to dwell on the difficulties or losses that plagued her.

It was around this time that Lynsi’s religious life was said to overlap with her business affairs.

Legal Battles

On September 16, 2005, Boyd was given a notice of non-renewal of his employment, signed by Esther Snyder. When Boyd showed Esther the notice, according to court filings, she said that she didn’t recognize it. She did, however, recall that Taylor had brought a document to her house for her to sign a day earlier without explaining what it was. The incident seemed to upset Esther, who Boyd insisted said that she didn’t want him to leave the company. Shortly after he left her house, Boyd claimed that Taylor telephoned him, angrily shouting, “How dare [you] upset an old lady?” Following this episode, Boyd contended that his contact with Esther became less frequent and his ability to get in touch with her was increasingly limited. After being marginalized for some time, Boyd asserted that by September 2005, Esther was essentially a prisoner in her own home. Guards supplied by In-N-Out were posted on the property, and only pre-approved visitors were allowed inside. Her phone calls and correspondence were screened, and at one point, Boyd alleged, Esther’s telephone line was disconnected and Boyd’s own telephone numbers were blocked, preventing any incoming calls to Esther from going through.

Esther’s old friend Wolf Kahles read an article about the ongoing legal battle between Boyd and In-N-Out Burger in the Los Angeles Times, he became concerned and telephoned Esther from his home in Germany. The pair had talked frequently; however, when he attempted to call her private home line, he found that the number had been changed and was un-listed. “I was upset,” he recalled. “They changed her telephone number and didn’t tell anybody.”

It was hard to reconcile the behavior listed in the court documents with In-N-Out’s squeaky-clean reputation.

…his decision came after what the company deemed “dirty laundry” had already aired publicly. What emerged was a family drama filled with jealousy, scheming, splintering loyalties, money, and tragedy. Boyd claimed that Lynsi did very little work at the company but expected In-N-Out employees to perform errands for her such as cleaning up after her dogs on the company’s dime. Lynsi’s personal life came under particular scrutiny; she was called “reckless, impetuous, irresponsible,” among other personal shortcomings. Boyd’s assessment of Lynsi’s business acumen and work ethic was no less damning. He complained that the girl who had all the world laid out before her if only she would lift her fingers to grab it did not take her work seriously. “She is often late for work and meetings or does not show up at all.” Calling her the “Hamburger Princess,” a sobriquet that most likely needled the young woman, he claimed that “despite her financial resources, Lynsi chose not to pursue a college education.”

Boyd’s descriptions spared few. Lynsi’s mother, Lynda Snyder Kelbaugh (now married for the third time), was portrayed as a combination of Lady Macbeth and Cruella de Ville who had long sought to control the company, first through her son-in-law Taylor and now, as she was coming into her inheritance, through Lynsi. He charged, among other things, that “Lynda exerted her influence to push Guy Snyder to name Mark Taylor as cotrustee of the family trusts.”

During this period, more than one person in contact with Esther maintained that she was frequently given documents to sign without knowing what she was endorsing with her signature.

By the end of March, Boyd claimed that he had had a telephone conversation with Esther in which she indicated her willingness to be deposed. On April 20, however, Esther signed a declaration asserting the opposite.

During a recent visit with her aunt, Manas stated that Esther “expressed to me her dismay that the company was not being run by ‘family’ and actually expressed her anger that Mark Taylor was involved at all, because he is not a member of the Snyder family.” During a lengthy phone conversation between the two on April 20, 2006, Manas said that Esther told her that she had “no memory of firing Richard Boyd for cause and indicated that she would never do that—that Richard Boyd was the one she wanted to be involved with the business and the trusts.”

Manas herself seemed agitated. “I am uncertain as to exactly why her voice is being silenced,” she exclaimed. “Isn’t she entitled to at least express her thoughts, whatever they may be, whatever she can remember?”

The shock seemed to reverberate in several corners. More than one person indicated that inside of the company, it was Richard Boyd whom Esther trusted implicitly. Indeed, in addition to being named to the board and as a cotrustee of the family trusts, Boyd claimed in his court filings that in 2004 he had been named as the coexecutor of Esther’s will and as a coconservator in the event that she needed one appointed. At the eleventh hour, Boyd’s legal team produced a potentially damning piece of evidence: a transcript of a thirty-four-minute recorded telephone conversation between Esther Snyder and Elisa Boyd, Richard’s wife, recorded after Esther telephoned the Boyds’ West Covina home. The call came at about 5:00 p.m. on April 25, 2006. It happened to be one day before a judge was to decide on whether to compel Esther to be deposed.

When he arrived, Kahles was dismayed by what he saw. Unable to move on her own, Esther was lying on a bed in her living room with the television on. He found her weak, “isolated,” and generally unaware of the events taking place around her. When Kahles told her that he had attempted to call her several times, “She didn’t know that they changed her telephone,” he said. Furthermore, she complained, “Now I know why I wasn’t getting any calls.”

Kahles left Esther’s house deeply saddened, upset to find this “beautiful woman” who took such pride in her company left virtually alone in her large home. “She told me that the only joy she had was watching old movies on television,” he recalled ruefully. “She called it her window to the outside.” Still in possession of her chronic optimism, Esther “thanked the Lord that she still had her eyesight.” As he left, Kahles said, Esther told him, “My door is always open.”

The legal endgame came to an abrupt halt with a terse press release on May 10, 2006, approximately two weeks after the transcript of the recorded telephone conversation between Elisa Boyd and Esther Snyder was entered into the record of the Los Angeles Superior Court.

The details of the agreement, however, remained under wraps, and neither side would comment on the deal except to acknowledge that Boyd would have “no further role with In-N-Out or the Snyder family trusts.”

On Tuesday, June 6, Esther’s dear friend Margaret Karcher, the wife of Carl’s Jr. co-founder Carl Karcher, died after a lengthy battle with liver cancer. She was ninety-one years old. Within days of receiving the news, Esther sent Margaret’s husband a one-page condolence letter on In-N-Out letterhead.

…this gentle and modest woman was in many immeasurable ways the quiet, incandescent power behind the regional burger empire. She never prevaricated; Esther stressed quality, trust in the Lord, and the importance of making sure that her associates were happy. Esther preferred to let the company she had founded with her husband six decades earlier speak for her.

With Boyd out and Esther gone, it appeared that—in addition to his new position as head of the chain—Taylor was left as the only member of the company’s board of directors. It was unclear when or if he would name others. Perhaps more significantly, Taylor was now the sole trustee of the Snyder family trusts (with the court-ordered Northern Trust Bank of California serving on an interim basis). In one of Richard Boyd’s filings, he had described this scenario as “Guy Snyder’s worst nightmare.” It might have been one area where the late Snyder brothers were in total agreement.