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This is the New Yorker Radio Hour, a co production of WNYC Studios and the New Yorker.
David Remnick
This is the New Yorker Radio Hour. I'm David Remnick. New Yorker staff writer John Seabrook's new book is about a family business. Not a mom and pop store, but a huge operation run by a ruthless patriarch. The patriarch is getting older. He's beginning to fail, but he can't stand the idea of losing his hold on power, especially to the children who stand to take control and inherit the business. This might put you in mind of Succession, HBO's drama that some critics have called one of the best TV programs of all time. It's even drawn comparisons to King Lear. But the story that John Seabrook tells is about another family, a real one, the Seabrooks of Seabrook, New Jersey. Their frozen food empire was a huge presence in the flat, fertile farmland of South Jersey. Well, at Seabrook Farms, we too, grow vegetables right outside the door, cook and freeze them on the spot. You just boil them, bag and all, and enjoy that homegrown taste again. And John has written about the Seabrook business, his family, and its intersection with American history in his terrific new book, the Spinach King. So now, John, to start at the end of the story, you were a kid when a huge break happened between your father and your grandfather, and your dad was summarily ousted from the family business. How much did you know about what was going on when you were growing up?
John Seabrook
It actually occurred the year I was born, and so I kind of grew up in this kind of rubble of this destroyed relationship. But I never really understood what caused the explosion. So my grandfather founded Seabrook Farms, which was the frozen vegetable business, and it became a big industry at its height. It froze a third of all of the vegetables in the United States, including maybe some lima beans that were forced on you as a Child.
David Remnick
Yeah, we ate them for sure.
John Seabrook
Yeah. Well, I was not responsible for the lima beans.
David Remnick
I kind of like lima beans.
John Seabrook
Oh, you do?
David Remnick
I'm the one.
John Seabrook
They're great for freezing and they're hard to damage when you pick, at any rate. So my grandfather was a great sort of industrialist, but my father, who was 40 years younger, came into his own in the business after the Second World War when the company was moving into a kind of branded post industrial phase. And the family story became kind of the brand story. And I think that was really what drove them ultimately apart because no one could live up to the brand story.
David Remnick
And the brand story that. The story.
John Seabrook
The brand story were these clever farmers that started with my grandfather being, you know, this wasn't true, but the way he represented himself, a self made man who pulled himself up by his bootstraps. The capitalist hero who then became a kind of almost cartoonish millionaire because he was a man that started with nothing and really didn't know how to act with money. My father, however, had been born with money. And then my father was able to go to Princeton when my grandfather had never been to high school. So there were all these kind of class conflicts that occurred.
David Remnick
So we should tell listeners we've known each other since we were in college.
John Seabrook
Literally 19 years old.
David Remnick
And I knew there was something called Seabrook Farms, and I knew it was at the other end of New Jersey from where I grew up. But how much of this family story, which just has something Greek or Shakespearean about it, did you tell to your friends? Were you thrilled by it, embarrassed by it? Did you want to not know about it and run away from it? How did you treat it as a younger person?
John Seabrook
Well, I think I probably had all those reactions. I never really wanted to be that guy, the Seabrook that everybody looked at, the son of the prince, you know, the next in line. I hated all of that. I just didn't want people to think of me as any other than I was. And I wasn't that person.
David Remnick
Because you didn't carry yourself like that when you were 19. And some, by the way, some young aristocrats do that. I mean, we both knew a few.
John Seabrook
Yes, we went to college with them too. No, I wasn't that person. And it's not like the Seabrooks have been here since the Mayflower. My great grandfather was an immigrant. And I think one of the reasons that my grandfather and father were so determined to act like they were sort of upper class is because they really recently arrived at that status.
David Remnick
It was your Great grandfather Arthur Seabrook, who was the real farmer. And he cultivated the land and started the farm.
John Seabrook
Right.
David Remnick
And it's your grandfather, C.F. seabrook, who was the so called Henry Ford of agriculture, who saw himself as a kind of a higher thing, as an engineer and he was a modernizer and he built this kind of vegetable factory.
John Seabrook
Right.
David Remnick
Was that something unique in American agricultural history?
John Seabrook
It was quite unique at the time. The interesting thing about my family is they line up quite neatly with these major changes in the American economy. So you had my great grandfather, who was an agricultural farmer at a time when agriculture was a big part of our economy. You had my grandfather who mechanized and industrialized in the early 20th century, when the country as a whole was doing just that. He was trying to make an industry out of farming. But the agricultural part of it never really changed. It still needed thousands and thousands of workers to do the work that the machines couldn't do. And then when frozen food became a thing in the 30s, he worked with Clarence Birdseye. There really was a person, it wasn't just the brand. And he had invented this process for freezing food and poultry. But he couldn't figure vegetables out because you have to cook them first, it turns out, because if you just try to freeze them, the cells burst. My grandfather said, oh, I can figure that out. And so he basically became the vegetable freezer for Clarence Birdseye, licensed the patents. This was in the 30s.
David Remnick
How has your grandfather talked about in your family with your father?
John Seabrook
The thing about my father is that he never ever challenged my grandfather. And I didn't know the kind of abuse that my father had. Suff, psychological, emotional abuse until he died and left me these papers that detailed that abuse. And most people who had to endure that kind of thing from their father, their soul would be destroyed. He was this all powerful man who just tried to humiliate his son in every possible way. Why? As one reader said, it's the blood sport called filial love. There was something in my family. We're gonna throw you in the deep end of the water and we're gonna see if you learn how to swim and if you do. Great. You're a Seabrook.
David Remnick
Well, God, I mean, your father was one of three. Three sons.
John Seabrook
One of three sons. They were all trained as engineers.
David Remnick
I'm thinking succession here.
John Seabrook
It's succession with spinach. You know, I wrote, my very first attempt at. This was a New Yorker piece I wrote 30 years ago. And at that point I thought I was still kind of writing the her of the Seabrooks with a couple of.
David Remnick
And there was certain glamour, too. There was a glamour to your parents. Your father was incredibly beautifully dressed.
John Seabrook
He was a wonderful dresser. He was a very handsome man. He was 8 inches taller than his father. I think possessions like wine and clothes were very important to both my grandfather and my father to define them as members of a certain class they didn't feel that secure in belonging to. But I also think that with wine, wine and alcohol was another one of these kind of tests that you don't know you're taking, but really it was a test of can you hold your liquor? And, you know, my father started proffering alcohol when I was 13 years old. And when I think about that and my children like, I'm sort of astounded by the fact that he wanted me to start drinking at the age of 13. And, and I think it was this kind of, you know, we'll see what he's made out of test. And I failed. I flunked.
David Remnick
Well, you're referring to, I mean, you've written about this really movingly in the New Yorker that you got over drinking. You had to really confront it, confronting.
John Seabrook
The fact that this heritage of mine was sort of toxic, and yet it was deeply embedded in my daily life. It was almost like I had to give up on my heritage, on my family. Like alcohol was part of being a Seabrook. I think if I hadn't confronted the drinking and the role that my family played in it, I don't think I would have been able to write this book.
David Remnick
I'm speaking with John Seabrook about his new book, the Spinach King. More in a moment.
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David Remnick
But.
John Seabrook
But we do also like to get into other kinds of stories, stories about policing or politics, country music, hockey, sex of bugs.
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John Seabrook
Hopefully make you see the world anew.
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John Seabrook
Your podcasts.
David Remnick
Now, John, Seabrook Farms had this aura of being a family business. But this wasn't just your dad and his brothers sorting vegetables. Thousands of people work there on this huge piece of land in South Jersey. Describe the workforce as at Seabrook Farms.
John Seabrook
So another interesting thing about this story is that Seabrook, New Jersey, became a nexus for the immigrant experience in the 20th century, early 20th century. You had Southern Italians, a lot of Southern Italians coming the 30s. You had migrants coming up from the Jim Crow south. In the forties, the Japanese Americans who were interned in the concentration camps were released to work at Seabrook Farms. And then after the war, Estonians who had been placed in displaced persons camps were sponsored by my grandfather to come. They all lived in housing that he owned and rented to them. And it was this town called Seabrook Farms. And there were 5,6000 people. So it was a substantial town that my grandfather kind of had a caste system, and people who were whiter got nicer houses, and violence was used to suppress any kind of dissent.
David Remnick
What kind of violence?
John Seabrook
Well, during thein 1934, the incredibly brave African American workers decided they'd had enough, because every time a slack season came, even though they had seniority, the black workers would be released first. And so they said, we're not going to stand for this anymore. And labor unions never really had much luck with farm workers because they didn't stay in one place for long enough to. And they didn't really pay dues. But where these workers had an advantage was the produce is seasonal and it's depending on getting to the market, you know, in a timely fashion. And so they. They staged a strike at the beginning of the beet harvest when they really needed to get these beets out of the ground, and they needed these workers to do it. My grandfather brought in vigilantes. The New Jersey KKK was involved. It was days of violence covered on the front page of the New York Times. Amazingly, I had never about this story until I was 34 years old.
David Remnick
And I remember your telling me about it some years ago, and the shock of learning about it either through combing.
John Seabrook
Through archives, or the nation had covered it. And my friend Katrina Vandenhoovel sent me a clipping from 1934 that detailed the violence.
David Remnick
How did you react to that?
John Seabrook
I mean, I'm still trying to process the fact that my family were involved in this horrendous labor violence against people who were really just trying to get a fair shake. Part of the reason I wrote the book was to represent those people because not only were they mistreated and abused in the strike, he basically wrote the black workers out of the history of the company. And I've written them in with this book where they belong. That was one of my prime motivations.
David Remnick
So it was never spoken of at home with your dad.
John Seabrook
Never. Never a word was spoken of it.
David Remnick
John, at what point does Seabrook Farms go out of your hands and fail? Because your father, he was a businessman till the very end, but not With Seabrook Farms.
John Seabrook
Right. So my grandfather sold the business in 1959 in order to avoid my father basically taking it over and running it. My father had had enough. He didn't want to work for somebody else. He wanted to, you know, own the company with his brothers. And not only did they sell my grandfather, sell the company, but he disowned them. And so after he died in 1964, my father and his brothers pursued a lawsuit to try to get the will thrown out. And it was the documents that came from that lawsuit which documented just how crazy my grandfather was that he then passed along to me when he died in 2009, which became an important source for this book.
David Remnick
You were born in 59. Your grandfather died in 64. Do you have any memories of him, or is it just.
John Seabrook
I was taken to meet him once, and it was a very scary encounter. He was sunk into dementia, I believe at that point. There was always a question of whether his behavior was partly physically caused and what was psychologically caused. But he just. He had a very. I remember the really mean mouth he had. He had this. Lips pressed together, corners turned down. He was dressed in a suit, sitting on the floor. And at first I didn't know what to do, but he had these Tinker toys in front of him, and he was building something with Tinker toys. And the nurse said, why don't you sit down there and play with your grandfather? And I did. But it was. I remember handing him a little dowel and he put it in. And that was the only time I ever saw him.
David Remnick
How did your parents feel about you beginning research on this book and writing about the family, which you've been doing? You did some right. And then. And now it's in its full flower.
John Seabrook
Well, I did it when they were alive. And my mother hated it absolutely. Even though my mother was a journalist. But she absolutely hated it whenever I wrote about my family. She hated when I wrote that original piece here. I think she knew what I was going to find out if I kept at it. Because she knew, because she came into this family in 1956 when everything was falling. She thought she was marrying into this wonderful American, aristocratic family, and she ended up in a nut house and spent three years in this incredibly vicious succession battle. And then we were sort of exiled about 18 miles away to Salem, New Jersey. And I think she just wanted to put it behind her and never think about it again.
David Remnick
So you were exiled to school?
John Seabrook
We were exiled to a town about 18 miles away. The house that we lived in was My grandfather's house. So when everything fell apart, we were evicted from that house.
David Remnick
You've got two kids at home. What do they know of this story and how do they take it in?
John Seabrook
Well, I think my son has always been sort of alarmed by the fact that he comes from this line of kind of like crazy father, son behavior. And I do feel that these traumas are sort of embedded in you do. I do. They're passed down. I mean, I was very influenced by the book Terry Real wrote about how male depression is passed down. I think fathers often have terrible struggles that they had with their father that they don't know how to talk to their sons about. And certainly in my case, I think it interfered with my relationship with my father. And I was determined not to have that happen with my son. And I don't think it.
David Remnick
But do you really see much of yourself and your grandfather and your.
John Seabrook
I mean, no, but I think that there's certain sort of aspects of my father's personality that were formed by his grandfather's treatment of him. A certain sort of lack of trust, maybe. Like, you're not really sure whether you can really count on these family bonds. I think that sort of primal wound, if you will, was always in my father. And I think I sort of, if not inherited it, then was certainly influenced by it.
David Remnick
Well, but you must feel some sense in some corner of your being, John, and, you know, as a guy in good health, but in your 60s, with a family. You've been married for a very long time. You're a sane, decent, loving person.
John Seabrook
Thank you.
David Remnick
There must be some sense of profound, I don't know, satisfaction that transcends just the mere publication of a book, which you've done before.
John Seabrook
I feel like I lived the first half of my life with this story, and then I spent the second half of my life writing this story. And now they're finally complete. There were times when I didn't know I was gonna be able to finish this story because it really was very difficult and painful. And it takes place over 80 years and three generations. And then I also did it for my daughter, who I've also written about in the New Yorker, who is black and is adopted from Haiti. And it's sort of. When I adopted her, I had a new view on my family. What is my daughter going to think of these people? And how am I gonna communicate with her about this? The fact that she's got these privileges that are partly based on, you know, exploiting black people?
David Remnick
Have you had that conversation?
John Seabrook
I haven't really had that conversation with her yet, but I'm hoping that the book will help us to have that conversation. She hasn't read it, but I think she's gonna listen to it. Dionne Graham reads it in the narrated version, so I hope she'll listen to.
David Remnick
It's an absolutely wonderful book. And thank you for being here, John.
John Seabrook
Thank you, David.
David Remnick
The Spinach King is the title of John Seabrook's new book, and you can find John's writing on a great range of subjects, especially music in the music business@new yorker.com you can also subscribe to the new yorker@newyorker.com same place this is the New Yorker Radio Hour. I'm David Remnick. See you next time.
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The New Yorker Radio Hour: John Seabrook on the Destructive Family Battles of “The Spinach King”
Release Date: June 10, 2025
Introduction
In this compelling episode of The New Yorker Radio Hour, host David Remnick engages in a profound conversation with John Seabrook, the New Yorker staff writer, about his latest book, The Spinach King. The book delves into the intricate and tumultuous history of Seabrook Farms, a prominent frozen food empire in South Jersey, and the destructive familial conflicts that plagued its leadership.
Seabrook Farms: A Legacy of Success and Strife
John Seabrook provides an in-depth look into the origins and rise of Seabrook Farms, tracing its roots back to his great-grandfather, Arthur Seabrook, an immigrant who transformed agricultural farming into an industrial powerhouse.
“My grandfather founded Seabrook Farms, which was the frozen vegetable business, and it became a big industry at its height. It froze a third of all of the vegetables in the United States, including maybe some lima beans that were forced on you as a Child.” (02:33)
The company became a significant player in the frozen food industry, known for its innovative approaches to agriculture and food preservation. John compares the family's patriarch to a character from Shakespeare, highlighting the intense power struggles reminiscent of classic dramas like King Lear.
Family Dynamics and Power Struggles
The heart of Seabrook Farms' story lies in the destructive power struggles within the family. John recounts the tension between his father and grandfather, which began the same year he was born and led to his father's ousting from the family business.
“I was taken to meet him once, and it was a very scary encounter. He was sunk into dementia, I believe at that point.” (15:12)
John illuminates the rigid and often abusive dynamics between his father and grandfather, underscoring how these conflicts were never openly discussed within the family.
Labor Struggles and Racial Tensions
A significant portion of the book addresses the labor struggles at Seabrook Farms, particularly the 1934 strike led by African American workers demanding fair treatment and seniority rights. John reveals the violent measures his grandfather employed to suppress the strike, including the involvement of vigilantes and the New Jersey KKK.
“They staged a strike at the beginning of the beet harvest when they really needed to get these beets out of the ground, and they needed these workers to do it. My grandfather brought in vigilantes. The New Jersey KKK was involved. It was days of violence covered on the front page of the New York Times.” (12:00)
This dark chapter underscores the deep-seated issues of racism and exploitation within the company, which were meticulously omitted from the family’s official history.
Personal Reflections and the Writing Process
John discusses his personal journey in uncovering and documenting the painful truths of his family's legacy. He reflects on his struggles with alcohol, a byproduct of the toxic family environment, and how confronting these issues was essential for him to write The Spinach King.
“I think if I hadn't confronted the drinking and the role that my family played in it, I don't think I would have been able to write this book.” (09:34)
He also touches on the challenges of addressing these revelations with his own children, particularly his adopted daughter, and the responsibility he feels to present an honest account of his family's past.
Legacy and Moving Forward
As the conversation draws to a close, John reflects on the completion of his book and the sense of closure it brings. He expresses hope that The Spinach King will facilitate important conversations about his family's history and its broader implications on issues of race, class, and power in America.
“I feel like I lived the first half of my life with this story, and then I spent the second half of my life writing this story. And now they're finally complete.” (18:58)
John emphasizes the importance of acknowledging and understanding the complex legacy of Seabrook Farms, not only for his family but also for the countless workers whose lives were deeply affected by the company’s actions.
Conclusion
This episode offers a riveting exploration of family, power, and legacy through John Seabrook's meticulous research and personal reflections. The Spinach King serves as both a historical account and a personal memoir, shedding light on the often-overlooked human stories behind America's industrial successes.
Notable Quotes
“I was born, and so I kind of grew up in this kind of rubble of this destroyed relationship. But I never really understood what caused the explosion.” – John Seabrook (02:33)
“We were sort of exiled about 18 miles away to Salem, New Jersey.” – John Seabrook (17:03)
“If I hadn't confronted the drinking and the role that my family played in it, I don't think I would have been able to write this book.” – John Seabrook (09:34)
“I lived the first half of my life with this story, and then I spent the second half of my life writing this story. And now they're finally complete.” – John Seabrook (18:58)
Timestamps
The New Yorker Radio Hour continues to deliver insightful and engaging conversations, shedding light on the nuanced stories that shape our understanding of history and human relationships.