Everybody knows Famous Amos cookies: the simple, crispy, delicious sweet treats you’ve been buying in little bags from vending machines — or in bulk from Costco if you’re a superfan — for as long as you can remember.
Fewer people could tell you much about the man behind the phenomenon, who lived a wildly colorful, dizzyingly complicated life.
I should know. I’m his daughter.
Wally Amos, my dad, was born in 1936 in a deeply segregated Tallahassee, Florida — a poor black kid who was constantly being told by society he was worth less than his white counterparts.
Against titanic odds, he went on to become the first black talent agent at William Morris, working with legendary acts like Simon & Garfunkel. The truly self-made man launched his first bakery on Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles in 1975 — selling nothing but the chocolate chip cookies he initially started out baking to entice new clients.
To go from high school dropout to being on the cover of Time magazine’s Hot New Rich issue — it’s a trajectory that’s almost impossible to believe.
It’s all true — from the fame, which included TV spots on shows like “Taxi,” to the success running a multimillion-dollar snack business, to his philanthropic work with the Literacy Volunteers of America, helping adults and kids learn to read for over three decades.
And when my father passed away in August of last year, I wasn’t surprised to see his legacy being honored across TV screens and news sites worldwide.
But that’s only one version of the Wally “Famous” Amos story.
The other version is almost more unbelievable. It’s a story about a husband who was married six times, to five different women. About a father who had four children by three of those wives, but was often unable to step up as a parent, unable to break free of the generational trauma that came before him.
That man, who once had the financial backing of celebrity friends like Marvin Gaye and Helen Reddy, also lost the iconic company he founded, spending the rest of his life chasing the fame he craved, often at the expense of those closest to him — including me, his only daughter and youngest kid. Wally “Famous” Amos was a man whose ego and impulsive decisions left him perennially in debt.
This is a side of his life that only those closest to him were ever really aware of — one that, as of today, I am starting to shine a light on, in a new podcast for Vanity Fair — “Tough Cookie: The Wally ‘Famous’ Amos Story.”
Don’t worry, this isn’t some teary self-indulgent trauma-filled tell-all. Just a brutally honest, humorous look at a man’s entire messy, wonderful, loving, infuriating, 80-plus-year journey — from someone who had a front-row seat to both the highs and the lows.
My life began as a cookie nepo baby fever dream. I was fortunate enough to be raised in one of the most desirable neighborhoods on the island of Oahu in Hawaii — in a pink mansion that had a 5-gallon tub of cookie dough in the fridge at all times.
I had traveled to multiple countries before I was 2. Sidney Poitier and his wife, Joanna, friends of my parents’, were my babysitters. My dad seemed constantly busy with motivational speeches, cookie promotions, awards and events.
As a child, I was mesmerized by the glow of Wally’s success — and the way his truly captivating personality opened up the world to me.
But there was a darker, more dramatic side to him that would come into focus as I grew older — a trail of shattered relationships and chaos that seemed to follow him wherever he went.
To begin with, there were my three brothers — Michael and Gregory, from Wally’s first marriage, and Shawn, from Wally’s second marriage.
Ranging from 15 to 24 years older than me, they lived very separate lives from me and our dad. They visited Hawaii rarely — and sometimes would go for years barely talking with Wally, who wasn’t exactly making an effort to be a consistent presence in their lives.
My mom, Christine, was wife No. 3. The idea of us being one big happy blended family was laughable at best. My brothers’ distance from our dad, and each other, stemmed in part from so many decisions my dad made that prioritized his own happiness over others’. We all loved each other — but we never really knew how to be a family.
Then there was the money. Many people think our family is still a part of Famous Amos financially. Others think Dad sold the company and wandered off into the Hawaiian sunset as a millionaire.
The truth is that my dad left the company in the late 1980s with next to nothing.
When he started Famous Amos, his goal was to open a single successful store with the $25,000 he had raised from investor friends, both famous and not.
He had never run a business or given thought to what capital would be needed for expansion. And when the company became an overnight sensation — thanks to his savvy promotional abilities and his dear p.r. friends John and Marilyn Rosica — he quickly found himself in over his head.
As business missteps stacked up, Wally found new cash by bringing in outside investors. But eventually he was bought out of Famous Amos entirely and found himself on the sidelines of his own company. The company began to evolve into something Wally could not recognize, and so he simply moved on, thinking he could start a new cookie company and repeat his same success again.
Sadly, that was not the case — and while Famous Amos continued to grow, Wally would go on to launch multiple new ventures over a three-decade period. All of them would eventually fail.
By the time I reached high school, I had been to foreclosure court, and I had learned the best way to avoid creditor phone calls. I knew that the phrase financial stability and the name Wally Amos were never going to go hand in hand.
And as you read this, you are probably wondering, why the hell is this woman airing all of her dad’s dirty laundry so publicly? Great question — especially if you consider I spent the past 20 years consciously and unconsciously running away from Wally and the drama that surrounded him.
After three decades of a tumultuous marriage, my parents divorced in 2011. Wally followed that up with three more marriages. His last wife, he married, divorced and remarried a few years later.
The more I created a life of my own, with a husband and daughter, the harder it was to connect with him in a meaningful way.
I would become more frustrated with my inability to control the situation that was Wally. Fear of me turning out like him fueled a desire to simply block him from so much of my life.
We never stopped talking or loving each other, but the distance between us just grew. The final years of his life were littered with conversations I wish I could have done differently and actions that still fill me with regret.
In February 2024, after privately battling dementia for several years, my father fell into a coma. It forced me to realize I was entirely wrong in thinking I had handled the past 30 years of family drama perfectly and was in no need of therapy.
But, as a longtime journalist, instead of turning to a therapist — I’ll get there, I promise — I decided to give good old-fashioned storytelling a try.
Yes, this very public, brutally honest podcast has finally forced me to have the conversations I had been avoiding — a habit, by the way, I know I picked up from Dad.
With the support of my family, this project has given me a chance to laugh, cry and dissect a ton of family drama with my brothers, my mother, my husband and countless friends.
But it’s also been an opportunity to ensure the incredible life my dad lived is properly remembered: honoring the good he did, while not ignoring the cost he and others paid along the way.
This six-episode journey through my father’s life and our family’s story has made me realize a fresh perspective can change how you view not only your loved ones, but yourself.
For most of my adult life, I had gone out of my way to avoid people figuring out who my dad was or any of our family drama. It came with so much baggage that the idea of unloading that on anyone felt just plain insane.
So it’s a new feeling to be vocal about my life as the daughter of Famous Amos, hopefully in a way that will entertain and help others.
And in his own way, I think my dad would be proud.
In his prime, there was no one better at holding an audience than Wally Amos. Finding a way for his life and story to continue to live on, with the entire truth out there — that, I believe, is all my dad ever really wanted.
“Tough Cookie: The Wally ‘Famous’ Amos Story” is out today wherever you download your podcasts.
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