Dinkum Dog Takes the Mess Out of Fast Food

The word dinkum might sound a little strange to Americans, but it’s music to the ears of Australians. To call someone dinkum is to label him honest, trustworthy, dependable, genuine.

So when a friend suggested to Larry John Powell, a native of Sydney, that he name his hot dog company Dinkum Dog, it struck the right chord.

“It fit the product beautifully,” Powell said in a recent interview during which he demonstrated his method of making a fair dinkum dog, that is, one that doesn’t dribble mustard down a shirt front.

Powell got the idea for his company in 1983 at a food industry trade show in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. There, another Aussie, Vernon Jones, was demonstrating his Jones Spike Hot Dog Machine, which consisted of four spikes in a semicircle around a steamer.

(The spikes serve two purposes: They create a space in each unsplit, sesame-seed roll and heat the inside. Then sauce is pumped into the roll, and the hot dog is placed inside.)

Intrigued by the concept, Powell bought the idea for Jones’ machine and named the inventor to an executive post in the new company.

Powell’s franchising operation, launched in February, 1984, has become a hit with Australians, despite their ingrained penchant for meat pies. Dinkum Dogs are, for example, the only fast food sold at the prestigious Sydney Opera House, according to the company. So far, 3,800 outlets have opened in Australia, and the company expects to sell 23.5 million dogs to the 15 million inhabitants Down Under in the fiscal year ending in June.

But Powell notes that that is small potatoes compared to the potential in the United States, where an estimated 18 billion hot dogs will be consumed this year. To tap this market, Powell was recently persuaded to launch a U.S. division, based in Santa Fe Springs. (The company also has operations in New Zealand and England.)

The impetus came from James M. Reynolds, a Southern California businessman who sampled a Dinkum Dog in Melbourne, Australia, last April. He says he found it to be “the best, cleanest hot dog I’d ever had” and decided that other hot dog lovers might relish a neater dog. He got in touch with Powell and urged him to bring the operation to California.

Reynolds, now chairman, secured the backing of a group of investors who own 32% of the company--including former Cabinet members Maurice H. Stans and Robert Finch. Since Christmas, the U.S. company has been researching the Los Angeles market, with an official rollout scheduled for March 26.

So far, the company says its franchisees have leased machines to about 182 locations, including the Queen Mary and Spruce Goose, Whittier College, several school districts and hospitals and the Los Angeles Zoo. The sandwiches sell for between 75 cents and $1.75, depending on how elaborate the topping.

The franchisees also distribute Dinkum Dog hot dogs, rolls and sauces, which are made to the company’s specifications. (The hot dogs and sauces are made by Southern California companies--Anaheim-based Bridgford Foods and Kona Coast Products in Westlake Village, respectively.)

Powell estimates the U.S. company’s start-up expenses at $688,000, including the costs of adapting the 18-pound Dinkum Dog machine to meet U.S. requirements and registering the business as a franchise operation in various states.

Adjusting to U.S. ways of doing business has “been difficult but fun,” Powell says.

The company’s goal is to sell between 160 million and 200 million Dinkum Dogs annually in the United States.

If Powell hasn’t bitten off more than he can chew, perhaps his success will give rise to a variation on the familiar Aussie greeting: “G’dog, mate!”