Summit County residents were so hungry that they could eat a …
Well, let’s just say that they were plenty hungry.
Sixty years ago, a food scandal stampeded across Northeast Ohio, spreading fear and revulsion among shoppers, cooks and diners.
State officials alleged that a ring had conspired to sell horse meat disguised as beef to unsuspecting customers. Whoa, Nellie, were people upset.
The focus of the investigation was a Tallmadge business.
Margaret and Charles A. Rocco, owners of a West Avenue market, were at work when authorities burst through the door Dec. 29, 1951.
Clark W. Van Schoik, chief of the food and dairy division of the Ohio Department of Agriculture, led the high-profile raid, accompanied by representatives from the Ohio Health Department, Agriculture Department, State Highway Patrol, Tallmadge police and local newspapers.
Flash bulbs popped as Van Schoik served arrest warrants.
“Get out!” Margaret yelled.
“Where’s my rifle?” Charles shouted.
Witnesses said the Roccos grabbed butcher knives and ran the intruders out. Tallmadge Police Chief Sam Andrews and Officer J.E. “Slim” Boarman had to calm down the couple.
According to an affidavit, the Roccos were charged with unlawful sale of horse meat, adulterating meat, representing horse meat as beef, failing to register with the state and failing to post a sign that read “Horse Meat Sold Here.”
After the skirmish, the Roccos also faced charges of assault and battery. They pleaded not guilty to all counts.
Authorities said the raid was the culmination of a three-month probe after the passage of an Ohio law banning the use of horse meat in food products unless properly identified.
The Food and Drug Administration confirmed that two beef samples purchased at the Tallmadge store had tested positive for horse meat.
In the days before DNA testing, it wasn’t easy to distinguish horse meat from beef by taste, smell or appearance.
Scientists put meat samples in a salt solution and combined it with an anti-horse serum. The solution turned cloudy if horse meat was present.
State officials alleged that horses were bought at auctions in Geauga County, slaughtered at an Auburn Corners farm and shipped to Tallmadge. If true, the operation was a cash cow because beef sold for 62 cents a pound while horse meat cost only 15 cents a pound.
Rocco said he bought boneless beef from five different companies, but he insisted that they were all reputable firms.
“I’d like to get to the bottom of all this myself,” he told the Beacon Journal on Jan. 5, 1952. “Somebody is trying to railroad us. To my knowledge, I have never bought any horses or any horse meat. I have not mixed horse meat with beef and I have operated my business squarely.”
Predictably, news of the raid scared off customers. Already facing financial troubles, the couple sensed disaster.
“You people have ruined us,” Margaret Rocco told the newspaper. “Why? We haven’t done a thing.”
Summit County Health Director Elgie R. Shaffer and Akron Health Director Melville D. Ailes ordered a ban on the sale of 250,000 pounds of meat prepared at the Tallmadge shop.
That was bad news for the Akron Coffee & Grocery Co., which for months had purchased hamburger and steaks from the Roccos and shipped them to hundreds of stores in a 70-mile radius.
“I immediately called all our larger distributors and had them bury the steaks and patties under other merchandise until we could pick it up,” President Paul P. Tell said.
The recall was embarrassing because Tell had marketed the meat under his name: “Steaks That Tell.” If horse meat was present, he sure couldn’t tell.
“I have eaten it and it was a mighty fine tasting meat product,” Tell said.
Tell was indicted in the scandal, but charges were dropped after his company paid for the $47,000 recall and destroyed 6 tons of cold-storage beef that had fallen under suspicion.
As horse meat hysteria swept Ohio, state agriculture chief Howard S. Foust said his agency was flooded with calls.
“Lots of people are getting panicky, just because they think the meat they buy doesn’t smell right,” he said.
Meanwhile, allegations were grinding down the Roccos.
Director Shaffer said the county had trouble inspecting the plant before the raid. He said Rocco always kept guard over a steak-pressing machine.
“He claimed it was a secret machine and refused to let our inspectors view the processes,” Shaffer said.
City inspector Ernest O. Barber said he had no way of knowing what meat was taken from cold storage.
“Shortly after I appeared, they closed up the processing room, put locks on the doors and stopped operating every time I went in there,” he said.
Defense attorney John Quine said there was nothing sinister about the secrecy. Charles Rocco, a tool and die engineer, was getting a patent on a machine that he had built.
“They were afraid to let anyone in,” Quine said. “They didn’t want their methods in the hands of competitors.”
The Roccos went on trial in June 1952 before Summit County Common Pleas Judge Clande V.D. Emmons. The couple had faced a five-count indictment, but the judge reduced it to one count of possessing beef patties adulterated with horse meat.
Dr. W.A. Randall of the FDA testified that he detected horse meat in two samples from the Tallmadge shop. As defense attorney Quine grilled him, the exchange turned comical.
“Can horse meat be distinguished visually from beef?” Quine asked.
“It could be if the sample were large enough,” Randall replied.
“How could that be?” Quine demanded.
“If you saw hooves, you’d know you had a horse.”
A 12-inch stack of documents was introduced as evidence. The Roccos maintained their innocence while witness after witness flogged a dead horse in the 10-day proceeding.
A Beacon Journal court reporter noted: “The trial goes down in history as the most tedious misdemeanor prosecution Summit County has had.”
Assistant Prosecutor Gilbert Hartz said: “We’ve had murder trials disposed of in less time.”
Jurors deliberated for 12 hours before convicting the couple June 14 on a single count of possessing adulterated meat. The state did not have to prove intention. The mere presence of horse meat was sufficient.
The Roccos were sentenced to 100 days in jail and fined $200 each.
“This is a vicious law,” Quine howled.
As horse meat hysteria subsided, the Roccos faced many obstacles. First, their business folded, and they had to lease their heavily mortgaged shop to another company, Ekers Packing House Market.
Then they filed for divorce.
Charles died at age 62 in 1962. Margaret passed away in 1993 at age 80.
A year after the scandal, the 9th District Court of Appeals reversed their convictions.
Judges Oscar A. Hunsicker, Perry H. Stevens and Arthur W. Doyle ruled Jan. 9, 1953, that Emmons had failed to give the proper instructions to jurors about evidence to consider.
The Ohio Supreme Court refused to review the case.
After a year of public ridicule, the Roccos were officially cleared of any wrongdoing.
It was akin to locking the barn door after the horse had escaped.
Mark J. Price is a Beacon Journal copy editor. He can be reached at 330-996-3850 or send email to mjprice@thebeaconjournal.com.
