Our story starts with Harland Sanders, born way back in 1890in Henryville, Indiana.
He wasn’t born a colonel — that title came later. He tried his hand at a littlebit of everything: farmhand, streetcar conductor, insurance salesman, even agas-station operator.
But during the Great Depression, while running a small service station inCorbin, Kentucky, Sanders started cooking meals for hungry travelers.
He didn’t have a restaurant, just a kitchen table in the back — serving friedchicken, biscuits, and gravy.
What made his chicken stand out? Pressure-cooked frying — fasterthan pan-frying, sealing in the flavor — and a secret blend of 11 herbs andspices.
By 1936, his food was so popular the Governor of Kentucky made him an honorary Colonel.
But it wasn’t until the 1950s that KFC truly took flight.
When the new interstate bypassed Corbin, Sanders’ restaurant lost its traffic —and most folks might’ve quit right there.
Not the Colonel.
At age 65, he packed his car with a few pressure cookers and that handwrittenrecipe and hit the road — going door to door to restaurants across the South,selling his chicken-cooking method.
He’d fry a sample for the owner, and if they liked it, he’d make a deal: they’dpay him five cents per chicken sold using his seasoning.
That’s how franchising began for KFC — small diners from Kentuckyto Utah started flying that red-and-white banner.
By 1964, KFC had over 600 locations, and Sanders sold the companyfor $2 million — about $20 million today — though he stayed on as theface of the brand, white suit and all.
Fast-forward to today — KFC operates in over 145 countries with morethan 25,000 restaurants worldwide.
It’s not just fried chicken anymore — the menu has adapted to local tastes:
And though the Colonel passed away in 1980, his spirit — and thathandwritten recipe — are still locked in a vault at KFC’s headquarters inLouisville, Kentucky.
They say only two people in the world know the complete formula.
KFC’s legacy is more than crispy chicken — it’s the story of perseverance.
A man who didn’t find success until his mid-sixties, who believed so deeply inhis product that he drove thousands of miles just to share it.
Every bucket of chicken carries that reminder: it’s never too late tochase a dream — even if it starts in the back of a gas station with a cast-ironskillet and a smile.
Thanks for listening, folks. I’m Summer for this morning only, Duke will beback tomorrow morning,
