Looking back 20 years into the misty days of the early digital world, we can detect the origins of a distinctly benevolent twist on old-fashioned capitalism. Cause-related marketing—the idea of harnessing consumer behavior with the profit motive to amass funds for charity—got started in the early 1980s. And two of the trend’s innovators are still at it.

Paul Newman and A.E. Hotchner, in their new book, Shameless Exploitation in Pursuit of the Common Good, describe how they built the $190-million-a-year Newman’s Own food empire from scratch.

The scene was the basement of Paul Newman’s Westport, Connecticut, house. The time, December 1980. Newman, the star of Cool Hand Luke, The Sting, The Color of Money, and countless other films, had been obsessed with salad dressing. He used to take his own concoction everywhere he went, “not just as a taste preference, but also as a defense against those insufferable artificial additives.”

Newman and Hotchner wanted to market the mix. But they were facing long odds. Truckloads of celebrity-related products had failed at the consumer box office. (“No offense, Mr. Newman,” one marketing consultant said, “but just because they liked you as Butch Cassidy doesn’t mean they’ll like your salad dressing.” His response: “Maybe we should call it Redford’s Own.”) The salad-dressing category was already dominated by giants like Kraft. And Newman and Hotchner had only about $40,000 to invest. (Pre-market testing alone would have cost at least $300,000.) If the duo had had any business acumen, they probably wouldn’t have begun. They mockingly said, “There are three rules for running a business; fortunately, we don’t know any of them.”

Between the shooting of Absence of Malice and The Verdict, Newman experimented with mixes. Then he overcame a claim by a bottler who said the chemistry would not work if Newman insisted on using only natural ingredients. Finally the creators held—and won—a tasting test in the kitchen of “a local caterer we knew named Martha Stewart.” Stew Leonard, the proprietor of a large local grocery store, placed an early order. And in September 1982, when the all-natural salad dressing was formally introduced at a bar in New York, Newman and his wife, Joanne Woodward, sang songs about the oil-and-vinegar concoction. Film reviewer Gene Shalit, who showed up at the event, raved about it on “The Today Show.”

For all their “aw shucks” commentary, Newman and Hotchner approached the business shrewdly. Knowing the public might be less receptive if sales would simply line the pockets of a wealthy movie star, they made it clear that all profits would be donated to charity. Since they were selling taste and quality—and charging a premium—they hired a firm to test-market the dressing at stores to make sure the quality was sufficient.

Newman and Hotchner built the Newman’s Own brand by rolling out other products. The salad dressing was followed by their Industrial Strength Marinara. By 1984, only two years into the venture, sales rose to nearly $12 million. Newman’s Own had sold 18.7 million bottles of salad dressing and 8.4 million jars of spaghetti sauce, and given away $2 million. “We knew we were in for a long and fruitful haul.”

At about the same time, a much larger company with more than a century of profits behind it also tapped into the power of charity. In 1983, American Express joined a private-sector-led campaign to restore the Statue of Liberty. American Express had always had a connection to tourism—and to great tourist sites. In 1885, company President James C. Fargo encouraged American Express workers to kick in to help assemble Lady Liberty. But the company had weathered the years better than the mammoth green statue. So the company offered to donate a penny to the effort each time customers used cards or traveler’s checks. The drive gave consumers a reason to use American Express instead of competing credit cards. The number of new cardholders rose by 45 percent, and use grew by 28 percent. American Express did well while doing good.

For American Express, the initiative meant it could use a highly recognizable and emotional symbol in its advertising—without consumers reacting negatively. And for any company in the brand business, creating positive associations with your name is the game. By contrast, Newman’s Own never advertised. But Newman and Hotchner proved adept at gaining free exposure. Newman’s Own formed an innovative partnership with Good Housekeeping to sponsor a highly popular recipe contest that required entrants to use a Newman’s Own product. Instead of cash awards, the company made donations to the winners’ favorite charities.

Newman’s Own grew steadily, adding popcorn, lemonade, and cookies to the product line. Professional managers were hired. And as its profits grew—in 2002, the company earned $12 million, bringing its lifetime donations to $150 million—so did its ambitions. In the mid-1980s, Newman and Hotchner decided to build a camp in Connecticut for children suffering from serious diseases like cancer. The Hole in the Wall Gang Camp enrolled 288 kids when it opened in 1988, and quickly ramped up to 1,000. In the years since, the camp has inspired the creation of similar camps throughout the country, as well as throughout the world. American Express has likewise continued to pioneer in cause-related marketing. In the 1990s, its Charge Against Hunger campaign enlisted cardholders to support anti-hunger efforts, and promoted restaurants that accepted American Express in the process. And last fall, when a campaign started to raise funds to reopen the Statue of Liberty, which had been closed since September 11, American Express offered to donate a penny for each card purchase until $2.5 million was raised.

Cause-related marketing taps into a vein that runs deep in American culture. As much as we like to see wealthy people succeed and earn money, we also like to see them give it away. When celebrities appear on popular game shows, they play for charities, not to get enough cash to buy a new Porsche. And whether it’s a credit card or a spaghetti sauce, consumers are always searching for a reason to employ one product rather than any of the other more or less similar products in the marketplace. For a significant chunk of the shopping public, channeling pennies to charities can be that reason.