The Story of the Old School — Jolly Rancher 

There are cer­tain can­dies that do more than just sat­is­fy a sweet tooth—they trans­port us back to anoth­er time, anoth­er ver­sion of our­selves. For many who grew up in the ’70s and ’80s, noth­ing brings back that rush of child­hood nos­tal­gia quite like the old Jol­ly Ranch­er sticks.

Unlike today’s bite-sized ver­sions, these weren’t can­dies you crunched through in a few min­utes. The Jol­ly Ranch­er stick was an expe­ri­ence. You’d unwrap that stub­born­ly sticky wrapper—sometimes fight­ing with it for a good five minutes—and final­ly get to the prize: a long, col­or­ful stick of can­dy that seemed to last for­ev­er. Whether you worked it down slow­ly until it was paper-thin or stuck a piece to the roof of your mouth to make your own “retain­er,” the fun wasn’t just in the fla­vor, it was in the rit­u­al.

Every­one had their favorite fla­vor. Water­mel­on was often the crown jew­el, set­ting the stan­dard for every oth­er water­mel­on can­dy that came after. Some swore by apple, oth­ers were devot­ed to the fiery cin­na­mon stick—tough to fin­ish, but a badge of hon­or if you could. There were even caramel ones, soft­er and less pun­ish­ing on your teeth, but just as beloved. And who could for­get how sharp the edges could get? Many a kid joked about turn­ing them into “shanks” at the lunch table.

Beyond the can­dy itself, the mem­o­ries tied to Jol­ly Ranch­ers are what tru­ly linger. Kids recall­ing vis­its to their local cor­ner can­dy store or five-and-dime, care­ful­ly stretch­ing a sin­gle dol­lar across a paper pad tal­ly kept by a smil­ing shop­keep­er. Oth­ers remem­ber­ing lit­tle league con­ces­sion stands, where a Jol­ly Ranch­er stick and a “sui­cide soda” (every fla­vor mixed togeth­er in a wax cup) were the height of sum­mer joy.

The truth is, Jol­ly Ranch­ers are still around, but the stick form—those long, jew­el-like bars of flavor—are most­ly a thing of the past. They’ve been replaced by bite-sized, bagged can­dies that, while tasty, just don’t hold the same mag­ic. Maybe it’s because those sticks weren’t just can­dy. They were a test of patience, a play­ground acces­so­ry, and a small lux­u­ry that made us feel rich when we only had a few nick­els to spend.

For those who were there, unwrap­ping one of those sticky trea­sures wasn’t just about eat­ing candy—it was about mak­ing a mem­o­ry. And maybe that’s why, decades lat­er, the thought of an old Jol­ly Ranch­er stick still makes us smile.