Frank Lloyd Wright was possibly the greatest architect the world has ever seen. But he did children another great service: he became father to a son named John.
In 1916, John Lloyd Wright, obviously exposed from a young age to the concepts of designing and building structures, invented a construction toy that might inspire other future architects. He called them Lincoln Logs, one of the most instantly recognizable brand names in history.
Legend has it that he noticed the interlocking beams that his father used in designing the basement of the Imperial Hotel in earthquake-prone Tokyo, and a light bulb went off in his head. True or not, we do have John Wright to thank for one of the most timeless toys ever made.
Not only did WE play with them, our parents may have done so too! But since they probably grew up in the Depression era, they likely made do with building toy cabins out of sticks and slabs of wood. But we were fortunate enough to grow up in Boomer times, and we were indulged with the real deal: genuine Lincoln Logs.
The set I had came in a canister just like I have pictured.
They were simply a perfect design. You could create in a few minutes amazing buildings. Sure, they were always log cabins, but you had tremendous creative room to use your imagination. My G.I.Joe had some bodacious forts, thanks to my creativity and my trusty Lincoln Logs.
The parts were big enough to make them harder to lose, unlike Tinkertoys (which will receive their own article later). The plastic gable ends and chimneys were durable enough to last as long as the wooden logs themselves.
Like everything else, Lincoln Logs have changed with the times. They are still in production, and still very popular.
You can tell yourself you’re getting them for your grandkid. I won’t tell.
Our living rooms in the 1960’s were comfortable places, indeed. Ours had a homey ambiance that made for a wonderful place to spawn memories. I can clearly recall the paneled walls, the sunken floor furnace, the area rug with rectangular shapes with 1 1/2″ wide borders that were PERFECT for driving your Hot Wheels cars on, and a familiar means of illumination of the era: a three-light floor lamp.
I recall the lamps being in all sorts of homes I visited. Ours had metallic shades that directed the light at whatever you wanted to be lit up. It sat by the easy chair, so dad could point the glaring 60-watt bulb directly at his copy of the Tulsa World.
My grandmother in Mason, Texas had one with glass shades that were bright blue and orange. It was something to see, especially when she would festoon it with tinsel, ornaments, and strings of popcorn each year at Christmas time.
Pole lights in a 60’s living room
There are thousands of snapshots like the one to the right that were taken during the 60’s that featured the ubiquitous form of lighting. They were inexpensive, looked modern (today, they look RETRO-modern), and did a great job of lighting up what needed to be seen. They also got very hot, and one of my earliest learning experiences was that you did NOT aim the light by grasping the shade. No, you grabbed the end with the rotary switch to keep from burning the heck out of yourself.
I’m surprised I don’t cower in fear at the sight of the old floor lamps. The one we had also taught me at the age of five that it’s a really BAD idea to stick your finger in the socket!
The lights served an additional function: they were a nice place to drape shirts and such that weren’t quite dry when it started raining and mom had to hurry outside and remove them from the clothesline.
I’m not sure when the multiple light floor lamp became passe. I don’t recall seeing too many of them in the 70’s. I remember mom got rid of ours when we got new living room lamps at an estate auction. She used those lamps for thirty years until her death.
It seemed like everyone else got rid of theirs, too. Nowadays, they are sought after by folks looking for the retro feel (like my wife and myself). But go back about forty years, and they were seen in millions of middle-class homes all over the world.
In a day and age when many of our favorite childhood toys have ridden off into the sunset, either victims of hard financial times, or perhaps, like Kenner, were bought and sold into total obscurity, it’s refreshing to see a treasured childhood memory doing very well, thank you.
Such is the case with today’s subject, Lego.
I remember Legos being a hot new item in the 60’s. But in researching this piece, I was quite surprised to learn that its history is as venerable as that of Lincoln Logs and Tinkertoys, going all the way back to early in the 20th century.
It all started with a Danish gentleman by the name of Ole Kirk Christiansen. He was in the business of producing buildings and furniture for the locals when, in 1924, his two young sons set a fire while playing with some wood shavings which destroyed Ole’s workshop.
Ole took it in stride, and looked at the disaster as an opportunity to build a new workshop with greater capabilities. Thus, he began producing miniaturized versions of his furniture and buildings to be used as aids in designing.
At this point, the history gets a bit fuzzy. But the prevailing opinion seems to be that Ole’s carpentry business went downhill, and it was suggested by friends and associates that he spend his time making miniaturized toys instead.
By 1932, he was doing just that. He was barely surviving the Depression, often trading toys and the occasional furniture for food. In 1934, Ole held a contest among his few employees to give his new toy company a name. The prize was a bottle of homemade wine. The winner was Lego, which, in Danish, meant “play well.” It was a further bonus that in Latin it was translated “I put together” or “I assemble.”
The company held on, surviving Nazi occupation of Denmark, and another catastrophic fire, this one in 1942. By the late 40’s, Lego had begin experimenting with plastics. Plastics were pretty primitive back then, but Ole and his son Godtfred saw potential for it.
In 1947, Ole and his son obtained some plastic interlocking bricks made by a company named Kiddicraft. They were impressed with the concept, and sought to build an improved version, with pegs on the top of the brick interlocking with the hollow bottom. In 1953, they released the first recognizable Lego bricks to the European world.
Plastic was by and large considered cheap junk, particularly by the European shopping community, so sales weren’t that great. But soon Godtfred spoke with some international buyers who suggested he expand his vision to include an entire construction system, complete with things like roofs, windows, doors, and perhaps even people.
70’s era Lego space set
But first, the blocks needed improved engineering. In 1958, hollow cylinders were added to the bottom of the brick, which made for stronger interlocking. The Lego brick was ready to explode upon a world of Boomer children.
Yet another major fire destroyed practically all of Lego’s wooden toy stock in 1960, so Godtfred (by now Ole had died) decided to commit the company to the manufacture of plastic building systems. It was a good call.
Lego toys were a smash hit in Europe, and the company cut deals to begin selling them in the US and Canada in 1962. They took the countries by storm, and the company sailed high. The bricks continued to be improved with better quality plastics, and more and more designs were offered. Kids were building Lego cars, airplanes, ships, skyscrapers, the limits being only their imaginations. Instruction sheets were added to kits in the mid 60’s, but many kids freelanced creations even more wonderful than the suggested ones.
In 1968, the Danish version of Disneyland was built in Billund, home of Lego. Legoland eventually grew to a million visitors a year. There are now four Legoland theme parks and five learning centers found all over the world.
And the Lego company has withstood hard financial times, a Nazi invasion, and several catastrophic fires to be one of the most successful toys ever made. Their corporate website lists them as number five in the world, not bad for a little Danish company that survived the Depression by trading toys for food. And best of all, they remain a private company. Being privately owned provides a stability not available with publicly-owned counterparts. I work full time for a private company which has never had a layoff in its long history.
Lego’s future looks good, too. In 2009, a Lego movie was announced, to be filmed as part animation and part live action. The company produces themed toy sets for popular movies with nearly every release. And the best news is that our grandchildren play with Lego sets that are very much like the ones we had, only with more cool stuff that we could only dream about.
I intentionally left out my own memories here because, believe it or not, I never had Legos, although I did play with them over at a buddy’s house. So what are your own Lego memories?
It was the ultimate in cool. James Bond even wore one. It was the light-up LED watch.
Introduced in 1970, it was a very expensive toy for the wealthy. But by 1972, they had gotten affordable and were starting to be popular. I got mine a couple of years later.
Dad used to get Coordinated Universal Time on his shortwave radio to set his watch (at the tone, it will be . . .). I had a wind-up Timex, and it used to lose or gain a couple of minutes a day. Hey, if you had a watch, you had to keep adjusting it. That’s how it was.
But LED watches got us used to knowing EXACTLY what time it was.
One of my favorite tricks was to count down the bell in class. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1!” followed by the bell ringing on cue. Great stuff for a class clown.
The watches were accurate to within a minute or so a year. That was also the most ridiculous advertising claim ever, because you were replacing the battery at intervals that might possibly stretch into three months. Of course, when the watch was new, as you obsessively checked the time, a battery would give out after a month or so.
LED watches were a common sight until 1979. Then, they disappeared almost overnight. That year, the much more efficient LCD came on the market, and you could get a year or more out of the battery (if you didn’t use your light too much to check the time in the dark).
The watches, which cost hundreds of dollars in 1970, were given away in cereal boxes by the end of the decade.
“Mama, don’t take my Kodachrome away” sang Paul Simon in what is clearly the greatest song ever written that paid homage to slide film. Unfortunately, mama, i.e. Kodak, didn’t listen.
Earlier in this year of 2009, Kodak announced that Kodachrome was going away. They had actually been making it disappear gradually for some time. For instance, Kodachrome 25 passed form the scene in 2002. Super 8 Kodachrome went away in 2005. Kodachrome 200 sailed off into the sunset in 2006. And the last holdout, 35mm Kodachrome 64, was discontinued this last June.
I spent ten years as an avid photographer. My specialty was 120 and 35mm B&W, developed in my own darkroom, and 35 mm Kodachrome slides. I preferred 64, although I picked up a couple of dozen rolls of 25 that were about to expire for half price and kept them in the freezer until I finally shot them all up.
One reason that serious photographers preferred it was its unparalleled sharpness. Plus, it tends to magnify colors in the red range, making things like red lipstick, roses, or sunsets look particularly amazing.
What Kodachrome was NOT was forgiving. It required perfect exposure for good results. Thus, many of us learned to “bracket” our shots. Instead of shooting a subject once, we would shoot it three or more times, making subtle exposure adjustments each time.
Kodachrome photo from the 40’s
Kodachrome has a long history. It was invented in the early 1930’s by a pair of musicians. Yes, you read that right. Leopold Godowsky, Jr. and Leopold Mannes were fascinated by color photography. Unfortunately, at the time, color photography was expensive and not too good in quality. Slides were thick with pigments, and required very strong illumination to effectively display them. That meant lots of heat and short-lived expensive bulbs.
The two Leopolds devised a formula in their own laboratory to produce a subtractive film that made much less use of pigmentation. Kodak was impressed with their independent work, and poured cash into their efforts. In 1935, Kodachrome 16mm movie film was released, the next year the venerable Kodachrome 35mm slide was introduced to the world. Photographers didn’t take long to make it a huge success.
What photographers quickly figured out was what they COULDN’T do with Kodachrome: develop it themselves. The amazing film required an equally amazing combination of massive equipment and trained chemists to turn into slides that could be viewed on the more modest projectors that could now be used. Up until 1954, Kodachrome came with an envelope that allowed you to mail it in and get it processed as part of the price. That year, the practice was deemed anticompetitive in court, and Kodak was forced to allow others to obtain their proprietary chemicals.
Kodachrome slide
(aside)Too bad no judge has yet decided that selling computers with Microsoft products pre-installed is just as bad, or worse.(/aside)
However, Kodak still processed the lion’s share of Kodachrome, due to its complexity.
I gave up photography about the time I got my first computer back in 1993. The smart box began taking up most of my spare time as I pursued a side career in freelance writing and cartooning. I was also busy enough teaching myself the ins and outs of computers, which would eventually allow me to make a wonderful career change to full-time IT.
My 90’s vacation shots were taken with a borrowed digital camera, or else on my wife’s point-and-click. I was impressed with the digital pics, but assumed that serious photogs would continue to use Kodachrome for professional usage.
I assumed wrongly. Even the pinnacle of great photography, National Geographic magazine, eventually began using digital technology in lieu of slides.
Thus, demand for Kodachrome dropped, and the inevitable happened. The world’s favorite slide film became unprofitable to produce.
Fortunately, its legacy will live on for centuries. Kodachrome colors are among the most durable and long-lasting in the business.
The Great Depression was a very difficult time for our parents and grandparents to go through. Times were bleak, and there just wasn’t very much to laugh about.
A designer at the California Clock Company thought that what the world needed was a clock that would bring a smile every time you looked at it. Thus was born the Kit-Cat clock.
The cat, in case you didn’t know, is Felix, who was a popular comic strip character during that era. The original Kit-Cat clock is black and white, just like Felix himself.
Anyhow, many of us remember the Kit-Cats hanging up in the homes our grandparents. Many of these clocks no doubt dated back to the 1930’s decade. The clocks indeed brought good cheer to their owners, as advertised.
The clock has a bit of an art deco look to it, appropriate to a design of the era. Eventually, Kit-cats were produced in different colors and designs. The gaudiest were covered in jewels and produced in limited editions.
The Kit-Cat was one of those things we didn’t have in our house, but we knew lots of others who had the perennially eye-rolling and tail-wagging timekeepers. I always got a kick out of seeing them.
Despite the fact that Kit-Cats continue to be marketed, and in fact claim great sales, it seems that you don’t see them around like you used to.
So many of the companies who manufactured the products we bought have gone out of business or been absorbed, it’s a refreshing change to talk about the California Clock Company. They have been cranking out hundreds of thousands of Kit-Cat clocks since the Depression. And they still make them here in the USA. In fact, you can order yourself a Kit-Cat online at their website.
Champion ride, very much like sat outside Farrier’s Grocery in Miami, Oklahoma, 1965
Mom dreaded summer vacation from school. That meant that I would likely be accompanying her to Farrier’s IGA in Miami, Oklahoma. That additionally meant that I would be relentlessly “warting” (her word for begging) for all sorts of food items that she could normally bypass when I was absent. It also meant that I would hammer her for a dime to drop into the horse kiddie ride.
The kiddie ride was strategically placed at the entrance of the store. Mr. Farrier knew that it would prove irresistible to kids accompanying their mothers, and that the kids would then do the selling.
Mothers probably wanted to wring Mr. Farrier’s neck.
But he wasn’t alone. Probably every 1960’s supermarket in the US had a kiddie ride or two located near the store entrance. Back in those days, a thin dime would buy a minute or so of sheer heaven for a Boomer kid, an investment that our mothers would frequently cough up to stop that relentless begging sound…
I couldn’t find much of a history for kiddie rides. No doubt, they have existed since at least the 19th century. Once upon a time, an enterprising businessman would let a child ride a tame donkey or pony for a reasonable fee (to be begged from the parents by the child), perhaps even throwing in a photograph of the child on said equine as part of the deal.
However, as urban life became more sophisticated, it became difficult to keep live animals at places of business. Thus, it would have been a natural transition from real ponies to mechanical models parked in potentially lucrative locations.
The result was that we Boomer children were surrounded by magical rides that would provide us with about a minute of musical, mechanized motion for a thin dime.
Vintage motorcycle ride
They could be found everywhere. Cafes, bus stations, hotel lobbies, just about any place where parents with children were likely to congregate with some time to kill.
And they weren’t all horses, of course. Horses were my favorite, but a kid could also encounter large plastic creations including elephants, Donald Duck (and a host of other cartoon characters), ferris wheels, the Batmobile (and many other types of vehicles), kangaroos, chipmunks, pigs, and fanciful creatures like Puff the Magic Dragon.
The car rides frequently had the advantage of being able to entertain two kids at once, although this would also frequently precipitate a power struggle between the kids as to who got to “drive.”
Vintage rocket ride
Most of the rides provided the same product for a dime: 60-90 seconds of back and forth motion, accompanied by music from sophisticated 1960’s era electronics. Sometimes, other sounds would also be generated, like motor noises, whooping Indians, or gunfire.
Some games would combine two joys for the price of one. For instance, there was an Indian Scout ride that provided a kid with a galloping horse PLUS a six-shooter to hit targets with at the same time! I don’t recall ever being lucky enough to spot one of those back in the day.
The amazing thing about the kiddie rides is their timelessness. Thus, many businesses are making good money restoring vintage models and selling them to collectors, arcades, and even many of the same types of establishments that hosted the games when we were kids.
Even the price has stayed kind. Most rides take a single quarter. The businesses are no longer making much or any money from the ride itself, but they are effective at attracting eager kids and nostalgic parents and grandparents, who presumably will purchase things that DO return a profit.
Well, I saw it coming. Many of I Remember JFK’s fans are of the female persuasion, and there has been enough clamor for memories that THEY had that boys didn’t, that, well, in the spirit of Sky King, baking powder submarines, and coonskin caps (i.e. I didn’t personally experience them), I hereby present my first “girlie” nostalgic memory: Kenner’s Easy Bake Oven.
My first discovery, which surprised me greatly, was that many BOYS had Easy Bake Ovens. In fact, many great chefs say they developed a love for cooking by playing with them in their childhoods.
Even though an old commercial at YouTube shows a girl AND a boy cooking with one, there’s no doubt that my crowd considered them for girls ONLY. So it’s natural that any of my friends who had one would probably have kept it hidden away.
But this column is not about the sad tale of peer pressure keeping us from revealing our true personalities. No, it’s about a toy that debuted the same year JFK was taken away from us, and which continues to be produced today, after having changed hands and designs a few times.
The original Easy Bake looked like a miniature oven. It had a stove top which was just for looks. It came in any color you liked, as long as it was turquoise. There were a whole bunch of us Boomer kids out there, of course, so selling 500,000 units at $15.95 a pop its first year was achieved handily.
Sales remained brisk, driven by loads of Saturday morning commercials. The one I remember best (and which I couldn’t find on YouTube) started off “Easy Bake, Easy Bake, fast as you can!” By 1965, Kenner had released other Easy Bake toys, including a popcorn popper, Bubble Gum set, Birthday Cake, Party set and Kid Dinners. That last one let you create your own TV dinners. Yum.
In 1968, Betty Crocker joined in on the fun. They sold cake mixes and such in just the right size for the Easy Bake’s light bulb to bake miniature versions of the same cakes mom made.
Later Easy Bake oven
The oven got a redesign late in the 60’s, when a hood was added. It also became available in beautiful avocado green and harvest gold, just in time for the 70’s.
The new Easy Bake’s kept coming. Another one that helped sum up the 70’s was the potato chip maker. In 1978, a “microwave” version was released. It didn’t really bombard your cake mix with radiation, but its look fit the times.
Kenner was bought out by Hasbro, and the ovens continued to change with the times. Litigation had a lot to do with that, of course, as kids burning themselves accidentally, instead of teaching the tots that they needed to be careful, now meant that it was time for mommy and daddy to call a TV-advertised lawyer. Sigh.
The version for sale today looks nothing like the turquoise original. But it’s much safer. However, even though the box clearly states it’s for kids eight years of age and older, the fact that FIVE children considerably younger than that age were burned by them forced a recall this year of 985,000 units to be refitted to make them more idiot-parent-proof.
But, thankfully, they continue to be manufactured, unlike many of the toys we enjoyed in the 60’s and 70’s that have been declared to be too dangerous for poor, stupid, helpless kids to play with today.
The sounds that we grew up with were things we took for granted. I always assumed that I would hear the five-days-weekly noon whistle at the B.F. Goodrich plant in Miami, Oklahoma. The sound that accompanied making a phone call would always be a spring-wound noise that accompanied the rotary dial. And purchasing something at most stores would involve hearing keys pushed and a ringing bell.
My first real job was sacking groceries at Phillip’s Food Center in Pea Ridge, Arkansas. I watched in amazement as the ladies would punch those keys at lightning speed, calling out each price so that the customer would hear them. And when it was all over, the drawer would open with that classic “ka-ching!”
My grocery sacking job has, for the most part, disappeared, along with those manual registers. Nowadays, most checkers scan items over a laser, and also bag the customer’s groceries (unless the customer must do so himself). But today, the past comes alive once again for just a bit, as we experience the comforting mechanical sounds that accompany a 1960’s supermarket buy.
The cash register came into existence when saloon keeper James Ritty, of Dayton, Ohio, devised a contraption that would supplant the money drawer. It was very tempting for low-paid employees to pull a few bucks out for themselves, and Ritty’s cash register tallied actual sales totals. The money in the drawer had to match the machine’s calculations, or questions would be asked.
Former grocery store owner John Patterson saw tremendous potential with Ritty’s patented invention, and bought it outright. He worked feverishly to improve the design, and eventually employed a team of inventors. His business became the National Cash Register company, and soon dominated sales of the highly popular devices. By WWI, a million and a half cash registers had been sold in the US.
The working parts of a 70’s era NCR cash register
Patterson was a ruthless businessman who used legal shenanigans to stomp his competition. For instance, he patented the bell that would ring when the drawer was opened. He sued Heintz Cash Register Company because they sold a machine that made a cuckoo sound, and won! Heintz’s registers had to run silently. In 1912, NCR earned the wrath of the feds and was convicted of running a monopoly. I guess Bill Gates could have taught Patterson a thing or two about beating that particular rap.
Cash registers remained pretty much the same until the late 1970’s. One advance was the addition of a printed receipt for the customer. But by and large, cashiers punched up sales pretty much the way their parents and grandparents might have done it.
The advance in computers changed the way stores tallied sales. By the mid 80’s, cash registers had become networked devices, able to send their totals electronically to a central location, perhaps located thousands of miles away. The universal adoption of barcodes eventually caused the mechanical cash register to vanish altogether. Nowadays, even the smallest retail businesses use scanning and Point-of-Sale software to keep track of purchases.
Also vanished is the toy cash register that many of us grew up with. Durable models made by Structo and the like would often be handed down form elder to younger siblings, perhaps eventually making it all the way into a new generation.
All the modern-day toy registers I found for sale had two things in common: they were made of plastic, and they all had toy scanners attached. There were no friendly prices to pop up at the push of a key, no manual crank on the side to record the sale, and saddest of all, no cha-ching.
Fortunately for Boomers, Pink Floyd has immortalized the sound for all eternity.
It was a sweet summertime tradition. Hop in the Plymouth, fall asleep in the back seat while dad did all the driving, end up in Story City, Iowa six or seven hours later.
Every summer we would make the trip up to the nation’s heartland so that dad could visit his family. Brothers, sisters, mother, aunts, and a classic Garrison-Keillor-character Norwegian bachelor farmer uncle named Selmer.
What I remember best about Selmer was his passion for fishing (they gave me all his tackle when he passed, hoo-rah!) and his enjoyment of a pleasant summer evening pastime known as Jarts.
I was probably twelve, and presumed old enough by the adults that I wouldn’t do anything stupid like toss the weighted darts with pretty darned sharp ends up in the air. Doing so could be fatal.
But hey, the act of stepping out into a busy street without looking could end up in a similar fashion. In the early 70’s, life was still meant to be enjoyed by people smart enough to use their brains. The rest (and sadly, children who were given access to taboo things by the rest) were subject to death and dismemberment by forces not yet banned by our motherly government.
Lawn darts were first put on the market in the 50’s, The game itself goes back a lot farther. I can picture Roman soldiers tossing daggers at a vanquished Visigoth’s skull in the yard outside the encampment.
The Jarts I remember had some pretty sharp points. That’s because they needed to stick in a lawn that might not be nice and soft from a recent watering! The object of the game was simple enough. A plastic ring was placed on the grass, and you stood back a distance acceptable to both parties, and you launched your missiles.
The throw was recommended to be an underhand pitch. The Jart would sail upwards, then descend towards its target. If your aim was good, it would land within the circumference of the plastic ring.
Enter human stupidity. Printed plainly on the box was the advisory “For adults.” However, adults simply refused to give the sharpened, weighted lawn darts the same respect that they did for firearms, whiskey, and naughty magazines: locking them away from the youngsters.
Thus, there were tragic incidents of children getting severely injured or killed by Jarts that were casually tossed straight skyward, only to hit a child on the way down.
Jarts box, 1969
At first, the Jarts company responded by taking the sharp point off. Thus, the later 70’s and 80’s vintage Jarts had blunt tips. These either required a soft lawn or perhaps doctoring with a bench grinder to get them to consistently stick.
However, Mother finally won out. In 1988 all pointed lawn darts were banned from sale in the US and Canada. Here is an official May 17, 1997 release from the US Consumer Product Safety Commission:
After a recent serious injury caused by a lawn dart, the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission reissued its warning that lawn darts are banned and should be destroyed. Effective on December 19, 1988, CPSC banned the sale of all lawn darts in the United States. Pointed lawn darts, intended for use in an outdoor game, have been responsible for the deaths of three children. The most recent injury occurred last week in Elkhart, Ind., when a 7-year-old boy suffered a brain injury after a lawn dart pierced his skull. “CPSC banned lawn darts in 1988, but some of these dangerous products may still be in garages, basements, or second-hand stores,” said CPSC Chairman Ann Brown. “Parents should destroy these banned lawn darts immediately.”
Thus ended yet another another memory that we had growing up.
So Boomers, I hope that you have taught your children (and grandchildren) well. Dangerous things should be kept out of the hands of young children. If this directive is ignored, Big Mama will step in and start making things illegal.
