On a hot day in St. Louis, Missouri, a concessionaire had a problem.
The vendor was selling ice cream at the World’s Fair of 1904. But with the temperature rising and customers lining up in abundance, he was running out of cups to hold the frozen treat.
Enter Ernest Hamwi.
Hamwi was serving up crisp, waffle-like pastries the next stand over from the ice cream vendor. And he sprang into action to help his neighbor.
Hamwi rolled some of his pastries into cones and delivered them off to the ice cream stand. The vendor then filled those cones with scoops of ice cream, giving patrons an edible cup for their delicacies.
The ice cream cone had an audience.
Few people know the name Ernest Hamwi. Or the name of the pastries he turned into ice cream cones. (They were called Zalabis, for anyone curious.)
But plenty of people are familiar with the broad strokes of Hamwi’s creation. They’ve heard the story of the hot day at the World’s Fair of 1904, of the cup shortage, and of the waffle cone substitute.
What they likely don’t know was that ice cream cones actually existed before Hamwi repurposed his Zalabis. Indeed, an Italian immigrant in New York City came up with a design for them in the 1890s, and he patented that design before the World’s Fair even came to Missouri.
Hamwi was the second mover in the ice cream cone space. And yet, his story stuck.
Why is that? Well, it comes down to two factors.
First, Hamwi’s quick thinking took place within a hub of innovation — the World’s Fair. Both wide-eyed patrons and inquisitive journalists were all around him.
Second, Hamwi deftly created a company to capitalize on his innovation. And other enterprising businessmen across St. Louis followed suit.
Ice cream cones became as synonymous with the city as toasted ravioli. Travelers marveled at the creation. And it started to spread through the Midwest, and then the rest of the nation.
This mixture of widespread attention and a corresponding business plan sparked the ice cream cone’s meteoric rise.
Ernest Hamwi might not have held the patent, but he had the golden ticket.
The origin story of the ice cream cone is more than a quaint tale.
It’s a powerful reminder of our errors when considering innovation.
You see, we tend to become enamored with the OG – with the original inventor of an item or system.
We consider that figure to be part visionary, part Santa Claus. We see them as the bestower of a great gift we can partake of.
But oftentimes, it’s not the original inventor who effectively transforms our lives. That honor belongs to the functional innovator.
The functional innovator is the one who brings the invention to the wider market. The one who incorporates the new contraption into existing systems, who expertly drums up demand, and who sets a tolerable price point.
Ernest Hamwi was the functional innovator of the ice cream cone. He might not have been the first to create the delicacy, but he was the first to make it broadly viable.
Similarly, Henry Ford was not the one to invent the automobile. But he was the one who turned it from a plaything for the rich to something available to all.
And Steve Jobs did not invent the personal computer or the mobile phone. But he ultimately made both ubiquitous in American society.
The functional innovator is part visionary, part connector. They can see where an emergent innovation can fit in society, and they can deftly execute a plan to make it so.
Yet, if they don’t have the force of personality of a Steve Jobs, or the business buzz of a Henry Ford, they can wind up all but forgotten.
And that omission has consequences.
As I write this, society is in the early stages of a tectonic shift.
In a few years’ time, Artificial Intelligence – or AI – has gone from the unknown to the ubiquitous. It’s in our jobs, in our schools, and in our lives.
Signs of this transformation are all around.
An electronic chipmaker – Nvidia – has become the world’s most valuable company, thanks to its prowess at powering AI. Corporate giants are racing to partner with AI specific companies – such as OpenAI – or to create their own models. And seasoned professionals are striving to get up to speed with the new technology, before they’re made redundant by it.
But for all the excitement about AI, something is missing.
A functional plan.
You see, despite all the talk of what AI could possibly do to enrich our lives, there’s little attention focused on what it currently does.
That’s left for us to determine. And both companies and individuals have been stumbling in the dark to try and find the answer.
This is a strange place to be in. It’s as if our garages are full of Model T’s, but the roads are filled with horses and buggies. And it’s been this way for a few years.
What this movement needs is a functional innovator. Someone who not only understands the nuances of AI but also has a concrete plan for its tidy placement within our culture.
The pioneers of the technology can’t fill this gap. They have the genius of technological creation, but not the business skills to compellingly bring their creation to the masses.
The AI companies can’t fill this gap either. They’re – understandably – too versed in the Silicon Valley valuation game to take on this critical task.
And the businesses and individuals experimenting with AI likely can’t fill this gap either. If they could have, we’d already be beyond this morass.
No, the functional innovator for AI powered technology is still out there somewhere. Their moment has yet to arrive, and the world has yet to change because of it.
That’s why the sizzle is still greater than the steak when it comes to AI. That’s why the potential remains so great, yet the risk remains so profound to all of us.
I hope this changes someday. Hopefully someday soon.
But when it does, I hope this pioneer is not forgotten.
Functional innovators matter. Let’s not pass up another opportunity to recognize them.