Paul Newman's Tasty Legacy

With his inevitable self-deprecation, Paul Newman once said that the downside of his successes with his Newman's Own line of foods was that "my salad dressing is out-grossing my films."

In reality, his box-office draw showed an enviable growth curve, from Silver Chalice, the first of his 65 movies (which probably didn't make back the $4.5 million it cost to make in 1954), to Cars, which earned roughly double its $120 million budget in 2006.

But the record of his foods business is hard to put in the shade. It has churned up over $250 million in profit since he and a neighbor started it in 1982; all of it has gone to charity. And the companies will live on, as a commercial, charitable legacy of the actor.

If the heirs to his commercial and charitable legacy have their way, the salad dressing and the empire it spawned will continue its steady growth. Notification came via a note posted on the company's site this past Saturday:

"For 25 years, we at Newman's Own have had a front row seat to watch Paul's entrepreneurial brilliance, humor, and compassion at work helping those in need. We will miss Paul, but we will honor his vision for the Common Good through dedicated stewardship of his company that will perpetuate his philanthropic legacy. Paul wouldn't have it any other way."

It seems clear that Newman's exemplary charitable record was a sort of abashed outgrowth of his mistrust of the fame and fortune brought to him by his good looks (and superb acting skill). He liked to joke that if his famously blue eyes turned brown he would have quickly become a failure.

"I was always a character actor; I just looked like Little Red Riding Hood," he said, later noting, "I started my career giving a clinic in bad acting in the film, Silver Chalice and now I'm playing a crusty old man who's an animated automobile [in Cars]. That's a creative arc for you, isn't it?"

(As reported in his New York Times obiturary, Newman "once gave out pots, wooden spoons and whistles to a roomful of guests and forced them to sit through Silver Chalice.")

With due respect to the salad dressing grosses, the actor's Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid made $102 million in 1969 and The Sting made $160 million in 1973; back then, that was real money.

And there were other consolations -- an Oscar in 1986 for The Color of Money, along with nine other nominations.

Most of us have our own favorite Newman performances. I'll take the potty-mouthed coach in Slap Shot, the "I can eat 50 eggs" antihero of Cool Hand Luke, and the the ice-cold half breed of Hombre.

Another favorite is the washed-up lawyer in 1982's The Verdict. In her eloquent appreciation of Newman, New York Times critic Manhola Dargis epitomizes that character as "a defining Newman type: the guy on the hustle who seems to have nothing much left but keeps his motor running, just in case."

It was around the time of two back-to-back searing performance -- first in 1981's Absence of Malice and then The Verdict a year later --that Newman was goofing around on his estate in Westport, Connecticut, and composed a dressing from his own mix of oil, vinegar, and mustard.

Normally dispensed to neighbors in wine bottles at Christmas, the tasty stuff inspired friend and neighbor A.E. Hotchner to persuade Newman to bottle more -- lots more -- and stick his mug on the front. It would come to account for 23 percent of the U.S. market for pourable dressings, about the 10th-best seller among nearly 500 choices.

He had a philosophy that his he'd been unduly lucky in life compared to those he sought to help, according to his longtime friend David Horvitz. "He felt a need and an obligation to try to give back," said Horvitz, who oversees the 11 Hole in the Wall Camps that Newman founded to give terminally ill children the chance for a free summer-camp experience.

Newman said as much before he passed away last week, age 83, of cancer. "I wanted to acknowledge luck," he said; "the chance and benevolence of it in my life, and the brutality of it in the lives of others, who might not be allowed the good fortune of a lifetime to correct it."

As recently as June 24 of this year, Newman's Own was rolling out yet another new product, a sparkling pomegranate juice drink. Newman-branded juice sales grew 38 percent last year, "well ahead of the growth in 'new age' beverages," according to the distributor, Drinks America.

More recently came their Sweet Enough Breakfast Cereals (the determinedly hands-on Newman crafted the little homilies on the packaging) and Thin and Crispy Crust Frozen Pizza.

As the product names suggest, Newman wasn't precious as he set out. "When the face came on the bottle, I knew that the profits would have to go to charity," he once recalled. "To make money off that would be so tacky.

"From this came the concept of circular exploitation," he added. "I allow my celebrity status to be exploited in order to sell stuff from which I then in turn channel the proceeds into good causes. Hence the slogan of our company: 'Shameless exploitation for the common good.' "

Once that original decision had been made, the salad dressing was sent out with store displays proclaiming, "Butch Cassidy is also a gourmet cook." More than 10,000 bottles vanished form the shelves in the first two weeks.

The privately held company turned a profit in its first year, and the profits and royalties were funneled through Newman himself to his chosen beneficiaries. He launched his Hole in the Wall Camps charity in 1988.

Newman's daughters remain active in the good works. One, Clea, sits on the Newman's Own Foundation board to help oversee grants. Another, Nell, runs the separate Newman's Own Organics line, launched in 1993.

Last year's profit of $28 million -- the product line now includes pasta sauce, cookies, popcorn, pet food, coffee, and a number of other goods as well as salad dressings -- was parceled out to a range of causes, notably the Safe Water Network with its work in India and Africa.

In January of this year, the company announced a premium wines Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon, both '06 vintage, at $16 a bottle.

The labels feature Newman's signature face: on the Chardonnay label he wears a cowboy hat; on the Cabernet label he sports a Butch Cassidy-style bowler.

Newman -- whose diagnosis of cancer was only announced by Hotchner on June 12 of this year -- may already have known he was issuing a pair of collectors' items.

"We have come full circle," he said at the time the wines were introduced. "We're back to wine bottles, but this time we are filling them with a wine that will complement my salad dressing and pasta sauce. Wine was the only thing missing at dinnertime. Now the meal is complete."

We'll drink to that.