I answered my phone early one morning in 1996, and was surprised to hear my friend June Elderkin calling from Southport Island.

More surprising still was her abrupt, almost accusatory tone.

“Timmy,” she barked, without so much as a how-de-do. “What are you going to do about those Pilot Crackers!?” I would have been tempted to take her question as a joke had it not been for the obvious agitation in her voice.

“Pilot Crackers?” I asked, desperately seeking some conversational traction. “What’s wrong with Pilot Crackers?”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with 'em!” she huffed. “But they’re trying to take 'em away and you have to do something about it.”

Eventually she calmed down enough to explain the situation, and a fascinating tale began to emerge.

It was a gripping saga, which did in fact involve the beloved Crown Pilot Cracker, the traditionalist’s first choice to complement a steaming-hot bowl of Maine chowder. Also featured in the story were lots of seriously ticked off Maine islanders, as well as (in the coveted role of The Evil Corporation) the multi-national snack food giant, Nabisco.

Apparently, when Nabisco decided to stop manufacturing several of its less popular brands – including the iconic, but alas, slow-selling Pilot Cracker – the corporate bean counters had no idea that, for tradition conscious Maine chowder lovers, their decision came dangerously close to sacrilege.

As a result of newspaper articles by Chebeague Island journalist Donna Damon, hundreds of motivated Mainers were itching for a fight. While a Save Our Pilot Cracker petition was circulated, outraged Maine cracker lovers flooded the Nabisco Customer Comment Hotline seeking to avert this miscarriage of culinary justice before it was too late.

As battle lines were being drawn, could I simply stand by and do nothing? What was I going I tell my grandkids when they asked, “Where were you when they tried to take away our Pilot Crackers?”

Fortunately, one phone call to my CBS “Sunday Morning” producer Mary Lou Teel was all it took to bring the cavalry charging up from New York City with lights blazing and cameras whirring.

My crew barely had their gear set up before the normally reserved Chebeague Islanders began cuing up to vent their frustration before a TV audience of several million. One fellow even sang us a hastily composed anthem, to the tune of “My Bonny Lies Over The Ocean,” with his neighbors chiming in on the “briiiing, back! …briiiing back! my Piiiilot crackers to me!” chorus.

We even managed to film a chowder cracker history lesson and cooking demonstration in the Islesboro farmhouse kitchen of celebrated food historian and New York Times bestselling author Sandy Oliver.

In the final scene, I stood at the Chebeague Island public boat landing and voiced the question on everyone’s mind: “Will a small group of Maine islanders be able to stay the hand of a mighty multi-national corporation?” Then added: “I wouldn’t bet against the Mainers!”

I certainly got that one right!

Our story sparked a huge outpouring from across the country. Several million folks, most of whom had never even heard of Pilot Crackers until that very moment tuned in, and apparently a fair percentage of them jumped on the Save the Pilot Cracker bandwagon.

When The New York Times picked up the story the following day, I knew the tide had turned.

At a press conference a week or so later, a Nabisco spokesperson officially threw in the towel, citing “That Tim Sample Postcard on CBS 'Sunday Morning'” as a primary factor in their decision to keep the Crown Pilot Cracker on the shelf.

Awesome!

We even shot a follow-up Postcard featuring the Nabisco PR flacks (don’t tell me these guys don’t recognize a marketing opportunity when they see one) loading commemorative boxes of Pilot crackers onto a Casco Bay Lines ferry for the voyage to Portland and grand “re-introduction” festivities at DiMillo’s floating restaurant. 

So in the end, did I really save the Pilot Cracker as June had hoped?

Well, yes and no. I certainly helped give the venerable old wafer a “last hurrah.” But sadly, after a few years had passed and the crowds had thinned out, Nabisco quietly shut down the production line.

Hey, that’s OK. For well over a century the Crown Pilot Cracker survived in humble obscurity in the cupboards and pantries of New England. Then, thanks to a handful of die-hard fans and a sympathetic CBS reporter, it left the stage in a blaze of glory!

What else could we hope for.