Bill Rancic Defends His Wife Giuliana After Fashion Police Controversy: 'I Tried to Get Them to Release the Footage' 42 years, 2,191 covers and 55,436 stories from PEOPLE magazine's history for you to enjoy
- Johnny Depp Responds to Domestic Abuse Claim: Lawyer Says Amber Heard Is Making Allegations to Gain Upper Hand in Divorce
- Read the Cover Story: Steve Harvey: From Homeless to Having It All
- Judge Denies Request to Protect Amber Heard's Dog, Pistol, after Hearing on Domestic Violence Allegations
- Amber Heard's Shocking Abuse Claims Against Johnny Depp: Details of Alleged Attack 2 Days Before She Filed for Divorce
- Swimsuit Model Mayka Kukucova Found Guilty of Murdering Jewelry Tycoon Ex-Boyfriend Andrew Bush
On Newsstands Now
- Matthew McConaughey: In His Own Words
- Jessa Duggar's Wedding Album
- Brittany Maynard's Final Days
Pick up your copy on newsstands
Click here for instant access to the Digital Magazine
People Top 5
LAST UPDATE: Tuesday February 10, 2015 01:10PM EST
PEOPLE Top 5 are the most-viewed stories on the site over the past three days, updated every 60 minutes
- November 30, 1987
- Vol. 28
- No. 22
Holidays—and Centuries—Come and Go, but for the Faithful Fords, It's Semper Fidelia's Fruitcake
Like many an ancient treasure, this one comes with a story. Late in 1878 Fidelia Ford, 66, a Berkey, Ohio, farmer's wife, baked her customary holiday fruitcake and set it aside to age until the following Thanksgiving. But Fidelia died before the big day rolled around, and her family hadn't the heart to consume her handiwork without her. They felt that way the next year too, and the next, until, instead of a mere dessert, the Fords had a legacy on their hands.
Today's custodians of the cake are Morgan Ford, 67, a retired mechanical engineer, and his wife, Dorothy, 59; they inherited the edible artifact 35 years ago from Morgan's dad, Lyman, Fidelia's grandson. The cake resides in a glass compote dish in a china cabinet in the Fords' Tecumseh, Mich., home, sometimes appearing as a dining-table centerpiece on holidays. Morgan and Dorothy's granddaughter, Sarah, 8, finds the cake totally "yucky," but older relatives show more respect. "We joke that we have a 100-year-old fruitcake in the family, and it's not my father," says Sarah's mother, Sue Durkee. "But it's a tie to the past, and it's neat to have." Says her brother, Jim, who is the fruitcake's heir apparent: "When I was growing up, I didn't even tell my best friend about it. Now I feel proud."
Only once in this century has the heirloom's peaceful existence been threatened. One day in 1966, Morgan's Uncle Amos, 86—two years younger than the fruitcake—came over with a peculiar look in his eye. Recalls Morgan: "He said, 'It's a dirty shame nobody ever tasted Grandma's cake—mind if'n I try it?' I thought he was kidding, because he was a joker. But he got out his jackknife and whittled off a piece. He chewed it a bit, and it sounded kinda crunchy. He never said a word."
Uncle Amos passed on two years later, still uncommunicative about the taste, but the Fords see no reason why the cake shouldn't go on forever. "Fidelia wasn't very good-looking—in fact, she was pretty homely," says Morgan. "But she sure knew how to bake a cake."
Treat Yourself! 4 Preview Issues
The most buzzed about stars this minute!