When we moved to Georgia almost 20 years ago, we started seeing sweet onions in the grocery stores, and I started using them every Thanksgiving in our Thanksgiving stuffing. After learning about these onions at this muesum, I may start using them all the time (except when needing to use red onions). A short drive from the park to Vidalia, a city with a population of over 10,000, took us to the Vidalia Onion Museum.
1. a yellow granex hybrid seed that can produce a sweet onion only in this area
2. sandy soil that lets sulfur wash through the clay; low sulfur creates mild, sweet onions
3. Vidalias mature only in winter where the short days are mild and rain can ensure bulbs have a high water content
beginnings of onions
In ancient Egypt, the builders of the pyramids were paid in onions. They are mentioned in the Bible and were as valuable as gold in Medieval Europe. While millions of people associate onions with Vidalia, Georgia, the region’s commercial crop didn’t get started until long after its accidental discovery in the 1930s.
Since local folks grew mostly “multiplier onions” like shallots, Georgia had to import cured onions, adding to their expense. Coleman saw no reason not to try growing his own, so he planted a quarter-acre of onions and was surprised by their unusual flavor.
Hauling his produce in a trailer he’d made from the back of a Model T, he peddled sweet onions from town to town. While the Great Depression had begun, Coleman sold his 50-lb sacks for $3.50.
Coleman described meeting a buyer for a grocery chain: “I pulled out my onion and I ate it there in front of him. He’d never seen anything like it. There wasn’t any tears coming out of my eyes, and I wasn’t making no face.” The buyer bought and advertised his managers to do the same. The next year, Mose Coleman planted 10x as many onions.
Growing an onion in Vidalia is not the same thing as growing a Vidalia Onion. Producing the now-famous vegetable requires the ideal locale plus the ideal species. Jordan made that connection.
In the 1940s, he started selling Texas onion plants—seedlings instead of seeds—to Georgia farmers. He also met Henry Jones of Texas A&M, who was hybridizing onions to meld the flavor of a Bermuda with the yield of a Grano. The resulting yellow granex, once Jordan established it in southeast Georgia, eventually became the Vidalia Onion.
Jordan partnered with Brand Produce to market onions through the Toombs County Plant Corporation. To support this fledgling industry, the state of Georgia built a farmers’ market in Vidalia where Jordan’s company and others packed, sold, and shipped their onions for 10 years. Onions were no longer simply sold at random but were actively marketed, forging the way for larger regional markets.
Tattnall County had its own early producer of sweet onions, Ed Tensley, who called the crop “Georgia Sweet Onions,” not “Vidalia Onions.” After returning from WWI, Tensley was an agriculture major in New Jersey and then moved to Glennville, Georgia, in the mid-1940s.
Working about 700 acres (500 of his own), Tensley planted some of the county’s first tomatoes and onions. He owned one of the region’s first tractors and was passionate about improving farming techniques by introducing the practices of crop rotation and pond irrigation.
The well-educated Tensley became widely respected for his generosity to the community’s schools, including his donation of the first school bus to transport local black children. He hired both black and white farmhands and was willing to share his expertise with all area farmers. Tensley’s obituary remembered, “the wonderful contributions he brought and shared with the farmers of Tattnall County and adjacent counties.”
W.J. Grimes invested $1M to build the first controlled-atmosphere storage facility based on Smittle’s research, and his gamble paid off for the entire Vidalia Onion industry.
The New brothers began aggressively marketing “Vidalia” onions and became the largest grower-shipper. Capitalizing on the Vidalia name, they began producing products like relishes, salad dressings, and onion rings. This emphasis on marketing qualifies them as Vidalia visionaries.
Visiting the Brand Brothers in Texas, they learned how to plant 4 rows in the space that Georgia growers were planting one. The result was 800 bags per ace instead of 200.
The nickname? He earned it in his red-faced high school basketball days. His onions were marketed as “Toombs County,” not “Vidalia,” onions. In a North Carolina restaurant, a sign touted “Pinky’s Onions.”
Friese’s first season went extremely well because of a poor harvest in Texas, so in 1942, he urged farmers to expand their plantings. Bags were bought, boxcars hired, and Friese marketed the onions nationwide. But . . . that year Texas had a bumper crop and Georgia had rainy weather. Heaps of rotting onions covered more than an ace, stood 30 feet high, and wafted its stench for more than 10 miles. Some accounts say Friese fled to California to escape an angry mob; other accounts hailed Friese as an aggressive early marketer who simply left in 1942 to serve in the South Pacific.
Another grower’s son became a State Representative and introduced an early bill attempting to make it illegal to grow a “Vidalia Onion” outside a defined region.
Gerry Achenbach and his successor, Robert Frost, annually sent onions to every supermarket chain president and U.S. Congressperson, helping to establish these onions in Vidalia’s history.
tools for growing onions
organizing the growers
Fearing problems if only a few industry insiders controlled the trademark, the growers chose to sign over the Certified Trademark for Vidalia Onions to the Georgia’s Commissioner of Agriculture’s office. This impartial third party could help producers collect Vidalia royalties, assess fines for trademark infractions, and establish quality standards.
Not only is trying to grow Vidalia onions elsewhere not just illegal, it’s a waste of time. One avid fan once drove to Vidalia from North Carolina and hauled a load of dirt back home to try replicating the Vidalia taste. All he got for the hassle was a bunch of sandy soil and hot onions.
growing Vidalia Onions
These onions are still predominantly hand-planted and hand-harvested as they were in the 1930s to guard their delicate nature from start to finish.
harvesting: a worker needs a full day to clip enough onions to fill 150 bags; 4 workers can hand-harvest just 1 acre per day or 600 bags. Less than 2% of Vidalia Onions are mechanically harvested
shipping: around 200 million pounds of Vidalia Onions are shipped each season
September – planting
November to January – transplanting
first wave of planting: Hand-pulled, bundled transplants are tossed along seemingly endless rows. Workers manually insert each tiny plant where it will grow to maturity. Around 80,000 seedlings can be planted in a typical ace.
second wave of planting: The second wave of “setting” occurs around New Year’s. These 2 crop cycles prolongs the harvest season for the farmers and ensures against total plant loss during an uncooperative weather.
November to May – growing
April to June – harvesting
When the green tops start to sag, crews slowly and carefully “undercut” the onions with a plow blade to separate the roots from the bulbs. Undercutting pushes the bulbs above the soil where they can heat-cure in the field so each onion can develop protective outer layers. Laborers return a few days later to hand-clip roots and foliage. Bulbs are transported to the packing shed for further drying, sizing, and packaging.
April to June – drying
April to September – grading
April to September – distribution and storage
For short-term storage, Vidalias are held in huge coolers. The delicate onions are then transported in refrigerated trucks. Overage goes into long-term storage when Vidalias are retrieved as needed. These harvested onions are rendered as dormant in controlled-atmosphere storage that monitors temperature, humidity, and oxygen levels. This long-term storage allows farmers to grow double the crop and lets us enjoy Vidalias for twice as long.
marketing
The rest of the museum shows us all the uses of Vidalia Onions and how they have been marketed over the years.
When a 1980 Wall Street Journal article proclaimed Vidalias “the caviar of onions,” folks in Walla Walla staged a contest without alerting Vidalia to the competition; of course Walla Walla won. Vidalia demanded a rematch.
When the next harvest rolled around, Eastern Airlines employees in Seattle and Savannah came up with a second transcontinental taste test. Even with Walla Walla doing the voting, Vidalia won.
Impact: 12,000 acres of onions planted annually, 2 M pounds of onions sold each year, 100 farmers registered to grow and sell Vidalia onions each year, $150 M value of crop sent to market annually, $350 M economic impact for Georgia from related marketing activities
When an onion-eating contest was shown on network news in the early 1980s, even more national interest was drawn to this onion that could be eaten like an apple.
Vidalias can be used in so many ways by so many groups of people.
Such an fun look at this sweet vegetable. Hope you have a chance to try one if you haven’t done so already.
Now we’re on our way home for a week before starting out again.