Currituck Lighthouse: Final link to illuminate N.C. coast

You might say there are “seven wonders” of coastal North Carolina – its seven standing seaside lighthouses. 

Let’s begin a journey to visit them all, moving from north to south. 

At the top right corner of North Carolina is Currituck County. Here, we find the Currituck Beach Lighthouse at Corolla on the Northern Outer Banks.

 

“Currituck” is a native Algonquin tribal word meaning “the land of the wild goose.” 

In the 1850s, the U.S. Congress “meant to” resolve a serious coastal issue – a 40-mile stretch of “dark coast” that existed along the Atlantic Ocean shoreline. 

There was no beacon extending out to sea between Cape Henry (Va.), north of Virginia Beach at the entry to Chesapeake Bay, and the light cast forth at North Carolina’s Bodie Island, near Oregon Inlet. 

Without a “guiding light,” ships were blind to the shoals that jutted forth out into ocean. 

The Civil War interrupted construction plans, however, and the project to build the Currituck Lighthouse was delayed and delayed again until 1874. 

As soon as architect Dexter Stetson of Massachusetts finished building a replacement lighthouse at Bodie Island in 1872, he was instructed to start on one just like it at Currituck, using the same blueprints.

 

Stetson completed the 162-foot Currituck Lighthouse, built with more than 1 million bricks, in 1874. 

Curiously, the Currituck and Bodie Island structures are not identical twins. Currituck outstretches Bodie Island by 8 feet.

 

Currituck is natural red brick, not painted in the familiar colors of white and black. Nathaniel G. Burris, head keeper at the Currituck Lighthouse, was more or less given instructions to just “flip the switch ASAP” to warn sea captains of the danger area. Don’t fret about paint, he was told. 

The lamp was lit on Dec. 1, 1875. The Currituck Lighthouse was the last major brick lighthouse built on the Northern Outer Banks. To distinguish it from other regional lighthouses, its exterior was left unpainted. 

The keepers’ quarters building at Currituck was a Victorian duplex. The head keeper’s family occupied one side of the house, while the two assistant keepers’ families shared the other half.

 

The U.S. Lighthouse Service was merged into the U.S. Coast Guard in 1939, the same year the Currituck Lighthouse was automated, eliminating the need for resident keepers on site.

 Dr. Kraig Anderson, creator of Lighthousefriends.com, said the Currituck Lighthouse was no longer needed after World War II, so it was basically abandoned and left to deteriorate. 

Ownership of the 31-acre site, was transferred to the State of North Carolina in 1952. 

In 1980, a nonprofit organization was formed – the Outer Banks Conservationists (OBC), Inc. Its purpose was to restore the Currituck Lighthouse property. 

Incredibly, OBC was able to raise sufficient private funds to open the lighthouse to the public in 1990. Visitors can climb the 220 steps to the top and walk out on the observation deck for a nominal fee during the spring-fall months. 

Near the lighthouse are other cultural and natural resources for visitors to enjoy, such as the Whalehead, a 21,000-square-foot mansion and waterfowl hunting club that was built for Edward Collings Knight Jr. and his second wife, Marie Louise Joséphine LeBel Knight.

 

Currituck County purchased the old estate in 1992 and restored the facility. It is now a museum and events venue…not to mention haunted. 

A new attraction, the Currituck Maritime Museum, opened in 2021. The 10,000-square-foot facility is owned and operated by the Currituck County government.

Mustard continues to pop up on the pop culture radar

What’s the most famous “mustard” of them all? Some smart alec in the back of the room blurted out: “Colonel Mustard.” 

Although a “who” and not a “what,” the good colonel is always represented by the mustard-yellow marker in the game of “Clue,” which is in the National Toy Hall of Fame. 

Anthony Ernest Pratt, an English musician, created “Clue” in 1943, in the midst of World War II, as a murder mystery board game. The object was to solve the crime. Who killed Mr. Boddy, in what room of the mansion and with which object? 

(The dear Mr. Boddy was the chap who invited his closest friends into his home for an evening of socializing and ended up dead.) Was he bopped on the noggin, let’s say “in the conservatory with the lead pipe?” 

One of six suspects, the well-to-do Colonel Michael Mustard is described by a noted toys and games historian as “your typical adventurer with a military background. He continues to practice archery and shooting” in pursuit of his greatest passion –hunting.

 

“He’s a dashing and handsome man with a proud demeanor,” the historian said. “A bachelor, Colonel Mustard, is ‘smitten by’ both Mrs. Eleanor Peacock (a widow) and Miss Vivienne Sakura Scarlet.” 

Patti Levenson is known as the “Queen of Mustard” in Middleton, Wis., the epicenter of “the Mustard Empire.” The queen’s throne is inside the National Mustard Museum building there. She is married to museum curator Barry Levenson. 

Among the royal court is the “Duchess de Mustard,” Vi Bergum, age 90ish, who is a native of Switzerland and a retired elementary school teacher.

 

For many years the duchess has served as the “National Mustard Day” ambassador and tour guide in Middleton. The celebratory one-day event is held each year on the first Saturday of August. 

Bergum said the secret to a long life is “use mustard…it enhances all the flavors that you eat.” 

Or, as American comedian Chico Marx would say: “Mustard’s no good without roast beef.” 

One of the sponsors of National Mustard Day is French’s Mustard, the best-selling brand of mustard in the United States. “Frenchy” is the name of the company mascot. He resembles a giant plastic mustard bottle and is ultra-kid friendly.

 

Brothers George and Francis French introduced “French’s Classic Yellow Mustard,” served over hot dogs at the St. Louis World’s Fair, in 1904. The company was headquartered in Rochester, N.Y., for many years. 

In 2017, French’s brands were acquired by McCormick & Company, now based in Hunt Valley, Md.

 

‘Hot Dan’ came to rescue meals with his mustard jar

One of the most classic advertising gimmicks of all time was French’s “Hot Dan the Mustard Man” campaign in 1932 that attached yellow Hot Dan plastic spoons to jars of mustard. 

“The spoons became a hot item for collectors who fondly remembered Hot Dan, commented Peter B. Taub a columnist at the Times-Union newspaper, based in Albany County, N.Y. 

“A lot of women said the condiment spoons were the best thing they could find for feeding their babies.” 

Hot Dan was an odd-looking fellow who sported a fat bow tie. He would often arrive in the nick of time to keep the peace at the family dinner table. He might say:\

 

“I’m Hot Dan, the king of flavor. I give meals piquancy and savor. Try this mustard, for it will…give your corned beef an added thrill.” 

“French’s Mustard – always the best to add that tangful zest. You bet it has just what it takes…to glorify your chops and steaks.” 

The campaign continued to be the keystone of French’s print advertising until Hot Dan cooled off and was phased out in the 1940s.

‘Making mustard isn’t as easy as it looks, dearie’

…So said English Queen Victoria, who in 1886 issued a “royal warrant” to Jeremiah James Colman proclaiming that Colman’s was hereby “the official mustard manufacturer to Her Majesty the Queen Victoria.”

 

Talk about a marketing coup. If there were a “mustard maker’s hall of fame,” Jeremiah James Colman would definitely qualify for enshrinement, given his many contributions to put Colman’s Mustard of Norwich in Norfolk County, England, on the world map. 

In 1851, at age 21, Jeremiah James Colman took the reins of the family business that was founded in 1814 by his by great uncle, “Old Jeremiah” Colman.

 

Jeremiah James Colman the younger

Young Jeremiah guided the company for more than 45 years. He proved to be a crackerjack innovator whose masterstrokes included creating Colman’s famous bull’s head trademark in 1855. 

Colman also standardized the bright yellow packaging with the distinctive red and black lettering.

 

Most importantly, Colman carried on the family’s cradle-to-grave ethos, providing education, housing, health care and leisure activities as well as savings and pension plans for workers and their dependents. 

“Colman’s was a family,” one retiree said. “If you had to go to the hospital, they had their own ambulance. That was the type of company it was.” 

Colman also had a great sense of civic responsibility. He once stated:  

“Men should go into municipal affairs to see what they could do for the town, instead of seeing what the town could do for them.” 

Colman died in 1898 at age 68. “His funeral procession numbered 1,200 people, which is perhaps the greatest indication of how important Jeremiah James Colman was to so many people in 19th century Norwich,” said Wayne Kett of the Tide and Time Museum in Great Yarmouth within Norfolk County. 

Others in the family stepped up and saw to it that the Colman’s Mustard business would carry on into the 20th century with great flair and a playful sense of humor. 

London advertising executive Samuel Herbert Benson earned the Colman account, and a long-standing relationship ensued. One of the most famous campaigns to ever come out of Benson’s agency was launched in 1926 for Colman’s – The Mustard Club.

 

The architect was Dorothy Leigh Sayers, who became a famous mystery novelist. The British press heaped praise on Benson’s for its pioneering work in “guerrilla marketing.” (That is an unattractive term used to describe “brilliant maneuvers that employ creative, novel or unconventional methods in order to boost sales or attract interest in a brand or business.”) 

Posters asked: ‘Has Father Joined the Mustard Club?” Mustard Club meetings occur “wherever a few people are mustered together at dinner,” using the hushed secret password “Pass the Mustard, please.” 

A series of characters was created by Sayers, each associated with mustard or its application – the Baron de Beef, Miss Di Gester, Lord Bacon, Augustus Gusto, Signior Spaghetti, Lady Hearty and Master Mustard. 

There were card games, a club newsletter and recipe books. Mustard Club members could request an identification badge. More than 500,000 badges were issued by 1933. 

 

‘Mustard Club’ once hoped to reform curmudgeons 

Naturally, there was a set of rules for “The Mustard Club.” 

Anna Jordan, author of “The Good Cook’s Book of Mustard,” said that the club “inspired a zaniness, a sort of goofy pursuit of mustard obsession.” 

Here are the abridged but official club rules: 

1. Every Member shall on all proper occasions eat mustard to improve appetite and strengthen digestion. 

2. Every Member shall once at least during every meal place the mustard-pot six inches from his/her neighbour’s plate. 

3. Every Member who asks for a sandwich and finds that it has no mustard shall publicly refuse to eat the same. 

4. Every Member shall see that the mustard is freshly made, and no Member shall tip a waiter who forgets to put mustard on the table. 

5. Each Member shall instruct his children…in forming the habit of eating mustard. 

The stated purpose of the club was to “enroll all grumblers and curmudgeons and other such persons who by omitting the use of mustard have suffered in their digestion, and to bring such persons to a joyous frame of mind by the consumption of liberal portions of mustard.” 

Additionally, the club encouraged “the use of mustard, not only with beef and bacon, but to show how it improves the flavour of mutton, fish, cheese and macaroni.” 

The adventures of The Mustard Club drifted away in 1933, under the weight of the Great Depression, but Colman’s mustard continued as a world market leader. Its advertising also continued to delight mustard aficionados. 

One of the favorite Colman television commercials in the 1980s featured a group of upper class Brits having a picnic on a French beach only to find that the butler has forgotten the Colman’s. “Damn long swim back to England,” says one of the party, as the butler begins to wade into the water. 

One entire section of the National Mustard Museum in Middleton, Wis. (near Madison), features artifacts from Colman’s Mustard. It’s a fun place to visit. Admission is free, but “no ketchup allowed.” 

Curator Barry Levenson started collecting mustard jars in 1986, a self-prescribed therapy to get his mind off baseball. His beloved Boston Red Sox lost the World Series to the New York Mets, four games to three. Levenson said he was crushed by the defeat.

 

Unable to sleep, he aimlessly entered a 24-hour grocery store. “I just roamed up and down the aisles, pushing an empty cart, tears coming down my cheeks,” Levenson told Michael Clair, a writer for Major League Baseball. “I said, ‘This is crazy. I need a hobby. I need to collect something.’” 

Clair said that among the condiments, Levenson paused. “All the ketchups, relishes, mayos and hot sauces stared at him. But only one called to him deep in his soul.” 

“In front of the mustards,” Levenson said, “I heard a voice say, ‘If you collect us, they will come.’ I did, and they have.” 

His play on words comes from the 1989 baseball movie, “Field of Dreams,” when farmer Ray Kinsella (played by Kevin Costner) hears a voice whispering: “If you build it, he will come.” The character interprets this as an instruction to build a baseball diamond in his cornfield. 

When he does, Joseph Jefferson Jackson, nicknamed “Shoeless Joe,” and other dead baseball players emerge from the rows of corn to play ball.

Roanoke River Lighthouse restored as an onshore dwelling

Shortly after Emmett Hofler Wiggins planted his 1886 Roanoke River Lighthouse firmly on his land near Filberts Creek west of Edenton in 1955, he began repairs to “fix nearly 15 years’ worth of neglect.” 

The Roanoke River Lighthouse had been decommissioned in 1941, its lamp extinguished forever. The structure was in pretty bad shape when Wiggins was gifted the deed to the lighthouse by a friend. 

Anchored in the Albemarle Sound at Batchelor’s Bay, the lighthouse had been abandoned. It was just “sitting out there” near the mouth of the Roanoke River – uncared for and unloved.

 

Wiggins, an experienced waterman and a savvy engineer, miraculously salvaged the structure and floated it to Chowan County. 

It meant a lot to the folks in Edenton, the seat of government in Chowan County, that Wiggins rescued the historic lighthouse. He was hailed as a local hero by the citizenry for saving the structure from drowning in the sound. 

Wiggins made the lighthouse building his permanent residence. 

Wiggins was 73 years old when reporter Jason Peters of The Virginian-Pilot in Norfolk, dropped by the Wiggins place for a visit in 1995. 

Peters wrote: “Out of place and forlorn,” an 1886 former lighthouse with “a long-blind eye now broods over a backwater of Edenton's waterfront.” 

“The old wooden structure is a home now, not a beacon, and dwelling within the former lighthouse keeper’s quarters is a Renaissance sailor who would surely feel comfortable in several other centuries besides this one,” Peters said. 

“Emmett Wiggins has spent a long life looking for whatever…seemed interesting.” He’s worked as an aviator, a deep-sea diver, a tugboat captain…and more. 

Peters said that hiding in the deep grass of the Wiggins yard is “a silvery 1946 Luscombe seaplane that he used to fly to scout logging sites in the gloomy backwaters off the Albemarle Sound.” 

Frank Habit, a real estate developer, said: “Emmett was a fine pilot, but you were never sure what would happen next. One time he took me to see somebody he knew in Greenville, and he splashed down on the Tar River in front of the guy’s house…like everybody came to call that way.” 

Peters noted: “Now, Wiggins has churned up a complicated discussion about moving his lighthouse, home and all, to Plymouth, where a local historical society wants to install it on the Roanoke riverfront grounds of the Port o’ Plymouth Roanoke River Museum.” 

“I want Plymouth to have the lighthouse,” Wiggins told Patricia Jane Monte, curator of the museum, “but I want to put it on a barge or an old ferryboat so we can move it around, up and down the coast, as a display of marine history.” 

That could be a costly logistical nightmare, Monte explained, adding that “we want it moved over to the Plymouth waterfront, and we have no objections if you keep on living in the house below the lighthouse,” she said. 

Monte’s position was: “The lighthouse will always be associated with Plymouth and the Roanoke River. This structure was built because of Plymouth.” 

She was right. The original lighthouse guided ship captains into the mouth of the Roanoke and up to the port at Plymouth. 

Wiggins was ready and willing to transfer the lighthouse ownership to the museum in Plymouth, but he died later in 1995, before he could sign off on the deal. 

Hence, the plot thickens. Which community would win a potential tug-of-war to possess the prized Roanoke River Lighthouse – Edenton or Plymouth? 

 

Dual lighthouses are part of the Albemarle Sound ‘charm’ 

Each community is a winner in the effort to preserve the heritage and culture of the historic Roanoke River Lighthouses. Plural is correct.

 

In May 2007, the Edenton Historical Commission purchased the 1886 lighthouse and had it moved to Colonial Park at Edenton’s downtown waterfront area. After an extensive restoration effort, the lighthouse opened to the public in August 2014.

Plymouth in Washington County has an exact replica of the original 1866 Roanoke River Lighthouse…and Edenton in Chowan County has the restored 1886 version of lighthouse. 

Dr. Kraig Anderson of Lighthousefriends.com said that Wiggins’ heirs wanted much more money for the property than the museum could afford. 

Community leaders in Plymouth decided they could build their own lighthouse for much less money than “the new asking price” for the Wiggins lighthouse, according to Dr. Anderson. 

So, that’s exactly what they did – but they selected plans from the original 1866 Roanoke River Lighthouse to construct their replica. The original structure was one-and-a-half story, cottage-style lighthouse.

 

It was twice destroyed, once by fire in 1885 and again in January 1886 when ice floes on the sound crashed into the lighthouse base, toppling the lighthouse into the drink. 

The 1886 version of the lighthouse reflected a new design with two stories. The light was housed in a tower rising from a corner of the building, rather than mounted at the center of the roof. 

Dr. Anderson said it was “rather brilliant” for the people in Plymouth to choose the original design and not duplicate the 1886 version that was over in Edenton.

 

A site was selected in a grassy field along the Roanoke River in Plymouth. Dr. Anderson said: “Much of the project’s cost in 2001 was covered by $515,000 in federal funding.” The replica opened to the public in 2003. 

Harry Thompson, the museum curator, commented: “Lighthouse enthusiasts rival Civil War enthusiasts in their passion.” He envisioned Plymouth as “the first stop on a tour of North Carolina lighthouses,” Dr. Anderson added. 

Meanwhile, the Edenton Historical Commission came up with the funds to purchase Wiggins’ lighthouse in 2007. In 2009, the State of North Carolina provided $1.2 million for the restoration of the 1886 lighthouse and its relocation to the town harbor. The refurbished lighthouse opened to the public in 2014. 

The “lighthouse siblings,” as such, are regional tourism assets that could be connected through a public-private ferry service operation known as the Harbor Towns Project. 

The idea is to run passenger ferries between the river harbor towns along the Albemarle River, beginning with Plymouth and Edenton. Other ferry stops could include Hertford in Perquimans County, Elizabeth City in Pasquotank County and Columbia in Tyrrell County. 

The state has budgeted $5 million to launch the initiative this summer with three vessels. One would accommodate 50-100 passengers and offer dinner cruises and sightseeing tours. Two speedy 30-passenger “excursion boats” would complete the fleet. 

Harbor Towns project will not be an affiliate of the N.C. Department of Transportation Ferry Division. 

Dr. Nick Didow, adjunct associate professor of marketing at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, is assisting with the formation of Harbor Towns Inc., a nonprofit organization to manage the ferry service and coordinate with the participating towns and counties.

Why is Roanoke River Lighthouse in Edenton Harbor?

How do you suppose it came to be that the venerable Roanoke River Lighthouse is on the northern side of the Albemarle Sound sitting in the Edenton Harbor…a far piece from the Roanoke River?

 

The answer requires a clear head to solve a story problem filled with multiple geography and history riddles. 

It’s a curious journey, and a key chapter in the annals of North Carolina’s legend and lore. 

The Roanoke River originates in the Blue Ridge Mountains and flows 410 winding miles in a southeasterly direction through Virginia and North Carolina.

 

The Roanoke empties into Batchelor’s Bay on the southwestern end of the Albemarle Sound. 

The town of Plymouth rose up on the banks of the Roanoke in 1787 and became an important shipping port, connecting North Carolina to trading markets in far-off places. 

“For such an important river and thriving port, Plymouth is not situated as one might expect,” reported a local historian.

 

“First, the river’s mouth at the Albemarle Sound is only about 1,000 feet wide. And the town itself is seven miles upstream. Seagoing ships had to navigate up the river to pick up their cargo, which could be a tricky maneuver, especially if a storm was brewing or fog shrouded the coastline.” 

In 1832, the U.S. Congress approved funding for a lightship to improve safety into the Port of Plymouth. A three-masted sailing ship was converted into a lightship. The vessel was anchored in the bay in 1835, near the mouth of the Roanoke River. 

Its whale-oil light hung at an elevation of 42 feet and was visible for 13 miles out into the Albemarle Sound, guiding pilots into the river. 

During the Civil War, the Confederate navy moved the lightship upriver and scuttled it in 1861. It was an attempt to prevent Union troops from advancing up the Roanoke River. 

After the war ended, work began to erect a permanent one-and-a-half story, cottage-style lighthouse structure within the bay, standing 39 feet tall. The project was completed in 1866. 

This lighthouse was destroyed by fire in 1885 and had to be rebuilt. Unfortunately, a bitter cold spell in January 1886 formed ice on the Albemarle Sound. Colliding with the lighthouse, a floe “severed two of the spindly support legs, causing the structure to collapse into the sound,” according to Dr. Kraig Anderson of Lighthousefriends.com. 

Once again, the lighthouse was rebuilt, but this time architects chose an “atypical design with two stories.” The light was positioned at 35 feet in a “tower arising from a corner of the building, rather than being mounted at the center of the roof.” 

This is the structure that became known through the ages as the Roanoke River Lighthouse, built in 1886.

 

The U.S. Coast Guard decommissioned the lighthouse in 1941, and it was abandoned. Along came Elijah Tate, a veteran waterman, in 1955 to purchase three former Albemarle Sound lighthouses for $10 each – structures at Roanoke River, Wade Point near the Pasquotank River and Roanoke Marshes near Roanoke Island. 

As he was preparing to move two of them, a storm struck, and the Wade Point and Roanoke Marshes lighthouses tipped over and sank. 

Tate passed the deed to the Roanoke River Lighthouse to his friend Capt. Emmett Wiggins, a World War II Navy engineer and underwater salvager. Wiggins used an old amphibious assault ship as a barge. 

He stated proudly: “I sailed back to Edenton with my new home” – a distance of almost 10 miles.

Who remembers Virginia Dare soda pop?

Joe Silvia writes for a social media news outlet in New Bedford, Mass., and one day he asked his readers the question: “Who remembers Virginia Dare soda?”

“I grew up in the late 1970s,” Silvia said, “and have fond memories of Virginia Dare soda; the wooden crates they came in and the ability to pick, mix and match your flavors.” 

For Joe and his brother, Mike, that was a big deal. “Not being pigeon-holed into buying a case of soda of one flavor was pretty darn exciting,” Joe Silvia said. “We could not only select a dozen flavors, but could choose between lemon-lime, strawberry, cherry, Moxie or other flavors I’d never heard of until Virginia Dare.”

 

Journalist Bill Baab wrote about one of the early Virginia Dare soft drink bottlers in Corinth, Miss. He was Herman Ercel Noel, who rolled out his “Noel’s Cola and its Virginia Dare product line” in 1938. 

Baab said that Noel’s company bought its syrup from the Virginia Dare Extract Co. of Brooklyn, N.Y., which was a spin-off company created by Paul Garrett. 

As the owner of the Virginia Dare Winery in North Carolina, Garrett opted to diversify his business operations in 1919, in order to survive the dry Prohibition years. 

Garrett hired a highly regarded flavor chemist – Dr. Bernard H. Smith – to take the alcohol out of the wine. Dr. Smith figured out a way to use the “uncommonly-fine alcohol” for the manufacture of flavoring extracts. 

The Virginia Dare Extract Company was incorporated in 1923, and Garrett sold it to Dr. Smith to develop as he saw fit.

 

Herman Noel’s son, Stanley got involved in the bottling business as a teenager. He said: “The Virginia Dare Company sold us fruit-flavored drinks (orange, grape, peach and any other fruit flavor you can think of) and a 7 Up-type called ‘Korker,’” which was Stanley’s personal favorite. 

“Stanley found himself the chief bottle washer,” Baab wrote. “I learned everything. I took sugar, mixed it with water until it became syrupy and added the Virginia Dare extract. I had to inspect every bottle,” Stanley said. 

“After the start of World War II, sugar became scarce, but Herman Noel cut a deal with a candy company in Jackson, Tenn., 50 miles north of Corinth,” Baab reported. “Stanley drove a truck to the candy company to pick up barrels of candy syrup.” 

Stanley said: “The metal crown caps also became scarce during the war, so we developed a little mold, made used ones look like new and then spray-painted them.” 

“Noel’s Cola went out of business in 1944 or ’45,” Baab wrote. “Its bottling equipment was sold to the Royal Crown Cola Company. 

Virginia Dare Extracts continues as a thriving family-owned business and is looking forward to celebrating its 100-year anniversary next year in 2023. Howard Smith Jr., of the fourth generation, is the current president. 

Today, Virginia Dare is a primary producer of vanilla, tea, coffee and cocoa extracts as well as an extensive flavor library of sweet, fruit, bakery, tropical, dairy and brown flavors that are distributed in more than 100 countries around the world. 

Joe Silvia said: “While they have gone far past offering soda, I sure wish someone would bring Virginia Dare sodas back to the area.”

 

Silvia’s online post attracted comments from 38 loyal Virginia Dare soft drink fans who filled in the blanks on some of the other popular flavors: Cream soda, birch beer, sarsaparilla, pineapple, ginger ale and “South Seas,” which contained real orange juice.