A penny for my thoughts (for now)

“If it’s a penny for your thoughts and you put in your two cents worth, then someone, somewhere, is making a penny.” — American comedian Steven Wright (1955-)

In the grand theater that is today’s U.S. economy, amidst all the recent news of tariffs, the latest federal jobs and corporate earnings reports, and the abrupt bankruptcy-spurred closure of more than 30 Hooters restaurants in scores of states, including Wisconsin, hidden between all the attention-grabbing headlines it was easy to overlook news of the impending curtain call for the littlest actor in the nation’s complex and fast-moving monetary system — the penny.

Ripped from the headlines came word that the U.S. Treasury will discontinue production of the long-lived coppery penny after its last supply of zinc blanks runs out. Turns out it’s now costing the U.S. Mint four cents to make a penny. Even the folks in Washington, D.C., not known for their common sense decision-making, eventually figured out that that’s bad financial policy.

The penny was one of the first coins created by the U.S. Mint after its establishment in 1792, minted beginning in 1793, although it has taken many forms throughout history in various sizes and designs, the familiar Abraham Lincoln-stamped penny in various iterations since 1909.

Pennies, over the years, even entered the national economic lexicon — penny postcards, penny candy, penny arcades, penny whistles.

As a child, I was fascinated by the shiny penny as the first coinage I was aware of.
Nostalgically, I can still remember my awe as a four-year-old touring the Denver Mint with my folks in 1969, mesmerized by the sight of all the shiny copper pennies rolling by.

Like father, like son, my dad’s lifelong passion for numismatics wore off on me as a youngster, attending southeastern Wisconsin and northern Illinois coin shows together and inserting my treasured finds into thick blue and gold Whitman leatherette coin collector books.

As a kid, it was a sideline hobby to comb pocket change for 1859-1909 Indian head pennies, 1909-1958 Lincoln “wheat” pennies and zinc-coated World War II-era 1943 Lincoln “steel” pennies, as well as 1913-1938 “buffalo” nickels and 1916-1945 winged “Mercury” dimes.

Even as late as the 1960s of my youth, a penny — 3.1 grams in weight at 95% copper in those days versus just 2.5% copper at 2.5 grams today — still had some value, most typically in the gumball machines at most retail stores and restaurants of the day. If you had five pennies, you could buy a thick, dollar-sized foil-wrapped mint at the register after dining at most any variety or drug store lunch counter. And for a bit of good luck — and charity — you pitched them into picturesque fountains.

I learned the rudimentary lessons of money, banking and saving by filling red paper penny roll sleeves, fifty pennies at a time, and depositing them in a passbook saving account at our neighborhood bank.

On the capitalistic side, having lightened the ceramic piggy bank of its accumulation of pennies — and nickels, dimes and quarters if you were truly flush — you were living large as you took a joy ride on a mechanical horse or merry-go-round outside W.T.

Grants or Kmart, bought a chilled glass bottle of old school Coke out of a Vendo machine, purchased a comic book, trading cards or a candy bar at F.W. Woolworths or Walgreens, or indulged in the singular delights of a quarter roller dog and dime Hires root beer from the snack bar while shopping at the G.C. Murphy five-and-dime.

The words of American politician Benjamin Franklin still rang true in those days — “a penny saved is a penny earned.” Naturally, in those days, we kids were always keen to religiously follow the cheery admonition to “find a penny, pick it up, and all day you’ll have good luck.” Pennies, whether earned, gifted or found, eventually accumulated into dollars.

Even as a hungry college student in 1987, scrounging around in pants pockets and under seat cushions for spare change could still round up $2.98 to buy seven burgers in a bag and a liter of Coke from George Webbs, a veritable feast.

But with the march of time and the seriously deflated value of the penny, I can’t remember the last time I bothered to bend over and pick up a penny, even with the promise of good luck. The smallest coin still worth my effort these days is a nickel — so far. But the nickel, also a money-loser for the Mint at 13.78 cents to make and distribute, may well be the next coin to go, with unit costs for producing both the penny and nickel above face value for 19 consecutive years.

Since I was a young child in the Lydon B. Johnson and Richard M. Nixon administrations, the deleterious toll of inflation has rendered the penny — and its kindred coinage cousins — virtually worthless.

The 25-cent glass bottles of vending machine Coke that I swigged during my afternoon drive disk jockey shifts at WLUV in the mid-1980s is but a wistful memory, today fetching $2.79. Seven burgers in a bag from Webbs, sans the liter of Coke, will now set you back $16.25.

You know the penny is worthless when even Meijer gave up its charming longstanding popular tradition of handing out a shiny penny to kids at the checkouts to ride “Sandy,” the mechanical horse, and now just lets them ride for free.

As baby boomer comedian P.J. O’Rourke once lamented, “A penny will not buy a penny postcard or a penny whistle or a single piece of penny candy. It will not even, if you’re managing the U.S. Mint, buy a penny.”

Raised to two cents in 1952, three cents in 1958, four cents in 1964 and five cents in 1968, today the postage rate for “penny” postcards is 56 cents, if you can even find a postcard to buy and mail. A penny whistle will set you back $8.99 on Amazon. And penny candy is but a nostalgic memory. The cheapest I could find online at The Penny Candy Store was Mike and Ike Jolly Joes at 33 cents each for a $7.90 24-count box, while a pack of king-size candy cigarettes, my filthy habit as a kid, now goes for 50 cents each for a 24-count carton.

Having outlived their economic usefulness, much like the historical curiosity half-cent (1793-1857), two-cent piece (1864-1873) and three-cent piece (1851-1889) before it, pennies are viewed as nothing more than a glorified paperweight or a detestable addition to your pocket change these days, oft discarded into the checkout lane “need a penny, take a penny” cup.”

With 114 billion pennies in circulation at present and 3.2 billion added last year, even despite their underutilization, it’s unlikely that the penny will disappear anytime soon, although its long-term future is bleak. Halting production of the penny by early 2026, after the current stockpile of zinc penny blanks is stamped and veneered with copper plating, is expected to save the U.S. Mint an immediate $56 million annually.
Given its run dating back to 1793, the prospect of the disappearance of the penny raises some interesting existential financial questions.

Will we reminisce about the good old days when “a penny for your thoughts” and chiming in with your “two cents worth” was more than just a cliché? What coin will replace tourist trap smashed penny souvenirs? Will we wax nostalgic about the days when pennies were dropped into fundraising wishing wells and fountains for good luck?

Will the nickel be the new penny as “a nickel saved is a nickel earned?”

So, while there’s still time, I raise a nostalgic, sentimental toast to the humble little copper coin that taught me the value of saving and the joy of giving, remembering that even the smallest things can leave a lasting impact.

News-Review freelance contributor Eric Johnson can be reached at eric@fyinorthwoods.com.