Save ’em, clean ’em, squash ’em: Tin cans go to war

If you missed the Jan. 19 celebration of National Tin Can Day, well, rest assured, I celebrated the day, designed to give this takenfor-granted product a little respect as well as encourage recycling. What disturbs me is that the tin can is no longer a term of endearment as a result of politicians usurping the can as an offensive buzzword for putting off necessary legislation. “Kicking the can down the road” didn’t arise and become a yucky phrase until the 1980s, when the stalemate between the U. S. and Soviet Union over nuclear arms emerged. Then it became synonymous in the next decade over deadlocked budget talks in Congress.

Tin cans have a special place in my heart because as a youngster, along with my friend, Billy Husser, I found that collecting tin cans in a coal-mining town in Appalachia sustained us during the darkest hours of World War II when garnering a little money for candy and sports equipment was tough going.

First, a little history: Before tin cans arose in the early 19th century, glass jars were relied upon to preserve foods, with Mason jars, named after the American inventor, William Mason, the gold standard of sorts. But because glass had the disadvantage of breaking during mass distribution, metal containers became the objects of inventors. The first model was developed by Englishman Peter Durand in 1810, the second by another Brit, Thomas Kennett, made of sheet iron and coated with corrosion-resistant tin.

But this heavy-metal model, tweaked time and again for over a century, still brought complaints from consumers in terms of a tinny taste, discolored foods and, worse, an occasional contaminated can. By 1908, a so-called sanitary can had replaced soldered lids and bottoms, with metal tops crimped on the cans after filling, guaranteeing an air-tight closure. And lining materials such as enamels and lacquers were applied over the tin, improving taste — at the expense, of course, of adding a little weight.

By the 1920s the refined tin can changed the way Americans ate. Then in 1935 it changed the way Americans drank, with the first liquid containers produced. During World War II tin-lined cans filled with beer were shipped to service personnel overseas; afterward, beverages were commonly packaged this way, reaching a peak of 30 billion tin-lined cans by 1973.

Now back to Billy and me in WWII. After Pearl Harbor, tin cans became an alternate currency for kids. Collect the used cans, put them in your wagon and off to the junkyard where they were turned into ready cash. To be sure, cans weren’t the only valuable products for child scroungers to make some dough. If you also brought any scrap metal, newspapers, rubber, aluminum foil and the aluminum wrapping from cigarette packages, there was demand. But never like tin cans, which got the most publicity because it was touted as being used for airplane bearings and solder. In fact, on Oct. 19, 1942, the War Production Board mandated that every town with a population greater than 25,000 had to have a tin-can collection process.

Remember that Japan controlled 70 percent of the world’s tin supply. The longer the war went on, the greater the publicity about the uses of tin: for plasma containers, airplane instrument panels, ammunition boxes, morphine syrettes for administering needed pain relief for wounded soldiers. Tin was so valuable that rationing was instituted for canned fruits and veggies on March 1, 1943. And canned dog and cat food, which accounted in 1941 for 91 percent of all morsels for pets, went the way of the wind, necessitating the ingenuity behind developing a dried, baked ingredient that eventually captured 85 percent of the market by 1946.

“Tin cans go to war” read one poster. One of the most popular was entitled “Help pass the ammunition: Prepare tin cans for war.” What followed was a bullet train of tin cans. Then there was a picture of a housewife with four clear words: “Of course, I can.” And instructions were included for preparation: take off paper label, wash thoroughly and flatten firmly. Or “save ’em, wash ’em, clean ’em, squash ’em.”

But the era of heavy metal for cans began to fade after aluminum models were introduced in 1958. Although the tin can was cheaper to use — and would continue to dominate the non-beverage food industry — aluminum became the receptacle of choice for beverages. Moreover, technology over the years made it possible to use less and less metal to ensure cost savings.

Even the terminology during WWII for turning in tin cans was respectful. The process wasn’t dubbed “recycling,” but “salvaging,” perfect for wartime in which rescuing the cans from destruction was uplifting. A 1945 magazine article said it all in two sentences: “Nothing is more American than the tin can; and Yankee ingenuity never stops. GIs use empty tin cans for literally everything . ... ”

Now what’s in your recycling bin?