ATTIC OF ASTOUNDING ARTIFACTS

I'm Making a Documentary!

2011-07-25T03:55:00.001-04:00

I'm currently in production on a documentary called Plastic Galaxy: The Story of Star Wars Toys. It is, as the title suggests, a movie about... Star Wars toys!

The film will explore the history and pop cultural impact of the action figures, play sets, space ships, and props that we all know and love -- all through conversations with fellow collectors, former Kenner and Hasbro employees, toy experts, and more. And, of course, there'll be a lot of cool toys!

The film will be released on DVD in August, 2012, at Celebration VI -- it'll also be available for purchase through many brick-and-mortar stores and through an online shop. Besides the film itself, I plan on including all sorts of extras... but for now, I'm keeping them secret!

Check out the teaser trailer!

For more information and updates, you can check out Plastic Galaxy's official web site, www.plasticgalaxymovie.com. You can also follow us on Twitter (@Plastic_Galaxy) and friend us on Facebook. If we can get this telepathy thing to work, you can follow us with you mind, too.

And for those who like to keep things within the blogger community, we've got another blog set up that you can follow: plasticgalaxymovie.blogspot.com. We'll try to update it every time we update the main news feed on the official site, but just in case, you might want to check both every once in a while.

So that's it -- that's why both this site and Galactic Awesome have kind of dried up of late. I've been extremely busy with the film -- and I anticipate many more months of work ahead of me. But it'll be worth it... I hope!

Well Then, That's That!

2011-04-25T02:27:00.000-04:00

So I'm married. Little Mary Switchblade said "I do," even after our officiant made her promise to love me if my robot and ray gun collection overruns the entire house.

Wow.

Now that the wedding's over, I'm hoping I'll be better about updating the blog. No promises, but I'll do my best. I've got many, many new toys and I really should get off my butt and get them up on the ol' Attic. So I'll do my best!

Wedding Rings (2011, Little King, NYC)

2011-03-26T15:53:00.000-04:00

So in less than a month, I'll be marrying Ms. Little Mary Switchblade. Doc Atomic and Little Mary Switchblade -- sounds good, right?

Here's a photo of the rings we had made. Guess which one's mine.

How many fiances would encourage their weirdo boy friends to get a lightning bolt in his wedding ring? Clearly, we're perfect for each other!

Japan

2011-03-15T03:01:00.001-04:00

Hang out in the Attic and you'll quickly realize that most of my favorite toys were made in Japan. Robots, ray guns, some Star Wars figures... Lots of toys. It's a tenuous connection, I guess, but I can honestly say that Japan has, via a few twists and turns, brought me a lot of happiness over the years.

The situation over there gets worse by the hour as the death toll climbs and meltdowns in numerous nuclear reactors becomes more and more likely. It's a horrible, terrifying tragedy.I encourage everyone reading this to help out however he or she can. Donating a few extra bucks is probably the easiest thing you can do -- organizations helping the relief effort can always use the money. But if you're tight right now (and believe me, I understand), then see if there's any other way you can help.

Anyway... I guess that's all I've really got to say on the matter.

To my Japanese readers: My thoughts are with you guys... I hope you and your families are safe and sound.

Original Science Fiction Artwork, Pt. 4

2011-03-01T01:35:00.000-05:00

New additions to the Attic's collection of original science fiction art! For those who're interested, here are Parts 1, 2, and 3.

1. "Tales of Time and Space," by Tom Nachreiner. 21" x 26". 1976. Gouache on board.

Truth is, I don't know a hell of a lot about Tom Nachreiner. He seems to have done a lot of work outside of the science fiction genre; in fact, there's no listing of him in Jane Frank's Science Fiction and Fantasy Artists of the Twentieth Century, the premier guide to genre artists. Strange. Oh well. I like a good mystery.

The painting was done as the cover for an anthology published in 1976 by Golden Press called Tales of Time and Space. It's a great piece of Seventies sf art; it's organic and fluid and strange, with bold colors and a trippy series of images pulled directly from the stories themselves. A little later than I tend to collect, but there's just no denying the quality of the painting. Hey, older, newer -- cool is cool!

Two close up details of the painting.

What's particularly fascinating is that the painting came with the book cover's mechanical -- the package of sheets used to paste up cover elements like the title, publisher, book description, etc. I also received at copy of the book straight from the printer's files. Taken together, these pieces help illustrate the process by which a painting becomes a book cover. As a book collector, this is exactly the kind of thing that sends me over the moon.

The outer cover of the package containing the cover's mechanical. The letter taped to the front is the job order, and lists what elements will be delivered by the printer.

The first layer of the mechanical. Tissue is laid down and on it is written various color guides.

The next layer down is an acetate overlay. The cover's text is laid down here, all carefully within the safety margins.

The cover itself. This is a file copy, and the handwritten notes are from the printer.

Now, if I can just figure out how to display it all...

Posting Schedule. Because I'm Lame.

2011-02-21T00:02:00.000-05:00

Okay. I realize that as time passes, my posts become more and more infrequent. I've got good excuses -- I'm a hard working freelancer who's just trying to raise enough money to buy more toys! -- but I admit, it's still pretty lame.

So here's the deal. From now on, this blog will be updated once a week. Most likely on Tuesdays or Thursdays, though that's not in stone. On the other hand, I reserve the right to post more often if something cool comes up.

Would I prefer to update The Attic daily? Sure. But I'll be honest -- I've gone through a lot of my vintage toy collection over the last year or so, and I don't get new toys too often. (It's the nature of this particular beast.) So I'm spreading things out a bit... Though like I said, if something good pops up, I'll be sure to let y'all know!

Anyway, that's that! New post -- a substantive post -- on either Tuesday or Thursday!

A Question For Fellow Bloggers

2011-02-04T13:39:00.002-05:00

A question!

Would people use a virtual chat room if I were to set one up? I envision it as being a place for like-minded collectors to meet up and discuss... whatever they feel like discussing. It'd be available to both my blogs, which means there could be some interesting cross-over. (Most people reading my blogs are collectors, but the discussions would go wherever they're inclined to go...)

The chat room would always be open, so in theory, anyone could pop in whenever they felt like it. No need to schedule anything in advance (though there's also no guarantee anyone else will be there...)

Note: This isn't a forum, like Alphadrome or Rebel Scum or any of the million other forums out there. This would be a chat room -- similar to AOL Instant Message or Gmail Chat, except for multiple people at once. If you're of a certain age, think of those old telephone "party rooms," only without the implied sleaze.

I'd have to implement some level of security to avoid spammers, trolls, and all the other annoying denizens of the 'net that swarm to open, free, online chat sessions. The means, probably, either a list of pre-approved email addresses, or perhaps some sort of invitation system. Of course, everyone's privacy would be a priority, and if I do end up soliciting your email address, I'll never use it for anything other than making sure you can join the chat.

So... What do you think? Should I set it up? If enough people comment positively, I'll go ahead and set it up in the next day or so.

Pre-Production Space Trooper (Yoshiya/1959/Japan/6 inches)

2011-01-30T02:30:00.003-05:00

Most collectors have "holy grails." You know, the pieces we dream about even though the odds say we'll never, ever, ever get our hands on them. The ones that keep us away long into the night, dreaming impossible dreams of glory through astonishing acquisition.

Well... This robot's one of mine. And right now, it's sitting on my desk in front of me.

You're looking at a Pre-Production Sample of a Robby the Robot knock off called the Space Trooper. It was made by Yoshiya way back in 1959.

As toys go, your basic Space Trooper isn't terribly complicated. Turning the crank engages a flywheel system, which causes the robot to roll forward while the multiple antennas in its head rotate in different directions. The wheels in its feet are off-center, which makes the robot wobble side-to-side as it rolls. It's simple, it's primitive, and frankly, I think it's completely awesome!

As I said, this is a Pre-Production Sample. I know, I know: "Doc, what the heck is a Pre-Production Sample?" Gather 'round, kids, and I'll tell ya!

Pre-Production Samples were one of the last stages in toy production before achieving a finished product. They were used by the toy companies for catalogue photos, as salesman's samples, and as display pieces at industry events like Toy Fair in New York City. They share most of the traits of a final production toy -- the one that ends up on toy store shelves -- but they also differ in many significant ways.

In the case of the Space Trooper, there are four major differences.

1. COLOR
The production models of the Space Trooper only came in red or black. A similar toy by Yoshiya that replaces the robot dome with an astronaut's head was also sold in dark blue. The Pre-Production Sample is a classy silver with black and red accents.

The few sightings we've uncovered in toy catalogues from 1959 all show this silver version. In fact, Pre-Production Samples of other toys have shown up over the years and they're also silver, as are the catalogue photos for these other toys. It makes me think it might be some sort of industry standard thing; perhaps this color scheme works better when rendered as a high-contrast, black and white catalogue image. There's no conclusive evidence that the colors were chosen for this reason, though -- I'm only thinking out loud.

2. MECHANISM
As I mentioned earlier, Space Troopers feature off-center, reciprocating wheels. The silver Pre-Production Sample, however, has wheels with a centered axle. They roll normally. The wheels are also larger than those found on a production toy. This is really one of the most important differences between the two versions as it illustrates a major development of the toy from one stage to the next. It shows Yoshiya attempting to inject more play value into the toy -- but in the cheapest way possible. I'll tell you what, though. Those wobbly wheels on the final version are definitely pretty neat! Good job, Yoshiya!

3. BODY STAMPING
Given how rare all Pre-Production Samples are, they were most likely done in small batches. Remember, these weren't meant to reach the public so the toy companies didn't need nearly as many pieces. It's likely that they were also not held to the same level of quality control. See, while all tin toys have wrinkles in the metal around the more complex folds, they're much more prominent on this early version of the toy. Also, the smooth, rounded parts have a little bit of unevenness to them that you don't see on the final, production robots.

Basically, Yoshiya spit out these samples so they could have something to show off the toy. Production lead-times being what they were, there was ample opportunity to clean up and refine the manufacturing process before shipping out the robots.

4. CHROME
The strip of chrome running up the side of the toy is supposed to fit tightly, conforming to the robot's curves. The strip of chrome on the pre-production sample looks like it was assembled by a blind monkey. It's kind of a mess. But as I've argued in the past, that's a big part of the charm of pre-production toys and prototypes. These aren't perfect, and they should look a little rough around the edges. Pre-Production should look like Pre-Production!

There are only two or three known examples of the Pre-Production Space Trooper. Or so I've been told -- I'm sure some others are floating around... maybe.

But this particular Space Trooper is very important to me. See, I helped uncover it many years ago. A woman from Kansas had listed it on eBay back in 2004, and found herself inundated with questions from potential buyers demanding to know why it was silver. She quickly realized she was out of her depth, so she did some checking online and ended up finding my old web site. She sent me an email asking for help.

Of course, I had no idea what it was, either. But I did some digging and discovered that there was -- at the time -- only one or two other silver Space Troopers, and that they all might be a Pre-Production pieces. Whatever it was, it was valuable. Valuable enough that I couldn't come close to affording it.

However, I was able to hook the woman up with a friend of mine named Pat Karris. Pat had, at the time, the world's most complete Forbidden Planet/Robby the Robot collection. However, he didn't have this piece. Happily, Pat and the seller were able to work out a deal and the robot ended up on his shelf.

I was there the day he got it in the mail, and when I finally saw the toy up close, I fell desperately in love. I wanted one -- badly. But I knew it wouldn't happen. However, I consoled myself by remembering that Pat lived in NYC, which meant I could have visitation rights.

Fast forward a number of years. Pat decided to sell off a bunch of his robots (for a variety of reasons) and they ended up going to a man named Al Rosen. Rosen made a name for himself buying and selling baseball cards, and he's a legend in that hobby. When he caught the robot and space toy bug, he pursued the toys with the same passion -- and deep pockets. Soon, he had nearly everything. Every. Thing.

And then he decided to get out. His toys were auctioned off about a year-and-a-half ago by Smith House Toys in a two-part auction that I can't even talk about without my head exploding.

And yes, this little Space Trooper was on the block with everything else.

And no, I couldn't afford to buy it at the time.

But another friend of mine, Steve Jaspen, was able to snag it. He lives in New York, too, and it was nice having the robot "come home." Besides, my visitation rights were restored.

And then, about a week or two ago, I got a call from Steve. It turned out he had decided to sell this robot. He knew my history with the toy and wanted to offer it to me first. We discussed the price a bit, did a little back and forth, and then let the dust settle. "So," he asked. "Do you want it?"

Dumbest. Question. Ever. Just tell me where to send the check.

So here we are, one more Holy Grail crossed off the list. I've waited a loooooong time for this one. I never thought it'd shake lose, and now that it has, I feel like it's come full circle. I'm a very, very happy camper.

Surpise! Stuff You Never Expected To Like

2011-01-28T13:08:00.000-05:00

There are a number of items in my collection that, until I actually saw them in person, left me feeling lukewarm, at best. Their photos never did them justice, I guess, or maybe I just never saw anything about them that made them compelling. Whatever the reason, they were on my "meh" list, and I figured they'd never leave.

But then I'd see them in person, and it was like having a fire lit under me. I had to have 'em! And now that I do, I can't imagine ever letting them go.

So I'm wondering: What are some of the pieces in your own collections that surprised you with how much they've come to mean? Maybe it was something that went from zero to hero in a moment, or maybe it was something that grew on your over time. Regardless, tell me about the pieces that once were ignore, but now you'd never do without. Feel free to link to pictures if you're able.

I'll write about my own examples in a future post.

Wonderful Batman Fan Film: "The Rat"

2011-01-21T02:50:00.000-05:00

Okay, okay... Why am I writing about a Batman fan film in the Attic of Astounding Artifacts? I'll tell ya. Because it was directed by a friend of mine named Dale Fabriger. He's immensely talented and watching his film, "The Rat," is a great way to spend five minutes.

Plus, Dale is a robot and ray gun collector, with one of the most kick-butt collections I've ever seen. So there's yer connection to the Attic. A short film about Batman made by an amazing filmmaker who just so happens to have the kind of toy collection that makes me drool. Any other questions? Didn't think so. Now watch the flick.

Oh, if you want to watch a higher resolution version of the film, click through to YouTube. Just sayin'.

Videos of Toys!

2011-01-08T01:12:00.000-05:00

Donald Conner -- a.k.a. Captain Conner -- has one of the most amazing flying saucer collections in the world. He's also got some amazing robots and ray guns -- including a bunch that I'd love to own. I once visited Don's house way out on the West Coast, but at the time, his collection was a fraction of what it's become. So I was thrilled to hear that he'd made a few home movies showcasing his shelves.

I asked for permission to repost them here, and he graciously agreed. So grab some popcorn and sit back to gawk at some toys that can truly be called "top flight." (Ha! Get it?!)

(Click through to You Tube to see the videos in higher resolution.)

VIDEO 1

VIDEO 2

VIDEO 3

Collecting Achievements and Goals: 2010 Edition

2010-12-12T22:20:00.000-05:00

(I've shamelessly stolen this idea from a Star Wars forum called Rebel Scum. Go check it out!)

With the end of 2010 fast approaching, I thought it would be fun to reflect on our collecting achievements over the last year, while also establishing some goals for 2011. When next year comes to a close, we can drag out this post and see how we did.

I'll list mine here, and you guys can list yours in your own blogs. Please post a link to your lists in the comments below! Then visit each other's blogs and leave your links in those comments sections, too. (If you don't have your own blog, just put your entry in my comments section.)

Ready? Then here we go!

Collecting Achievements for 2010

2010 was a great year for me as a collector. The Smith House and Morphy auctions were great fun, and Botstock was, as always, a blast. I met a bunch of collectors across a variety of hobbies, and made a whole bunch of new friends. A number of my robots and ray guns were used as models by an amazing painter named Steven Skollar, and I was asked to participate in a TV show about collecting (though we'll see if my segment ever airs). And, of course, I also scored lots of new goodies, including some that have been on my want-list for a long time. Some highlights:

Vintage Tin Robots

The Yonezawa Prototype TV Robot • Cragstan Ranger Robot • Horikawa Mr. Zerox • Yonezawa Moon Robot • Mr. Atom Robot

Vintage Star Wars

Early Bird Set with Double Telescoping Lightsaber Luke • DT Lightsaber Prototype • Full run of Takara R2-D2s and C-3POs • Full run of Kenner R2s

Other

Hamilton Electric Pacer watch • 1939 World's Fair die-cast tram and squished penny • Alphabot Robot • Science Fiction paintings by Morris Scott Dolens and Donald Simpson

Collecting Goals for 2011

For 2011, I'd like to continue meeting other collectors -- that's always one of the most fun parts of any hobby. I'd also like to make it back out to Robot Hut if possible, and continue to visit the collections of different Star Wars collectors. I've also got my sights set on some specific toys that I'd love to add sometime next year, including:

Lantern Robot • Blue Polka Dotted R-7 • Mr. Atomic • SY Mechanical Walking Robot • Nando Robot • Rex Mars Sparking Ray Gun • Hiller Atomic Jet Gun • Vinyl Cape Jawa • Vintage "The Force" Lightsaber • Takara Transforming X-Wing • Takara die-cast Darth Vader

Will they happen? Who knows... We'll see how 2011 unfolds. At the end of the year, when we return to this list, I'm looking forward to seeing how many goals I'll be able to reclassify as achievements.

So... Who's next?

DIA Space Gun (Unknown / late 1950s? / Japan / 3 x 4 inches)

2010-12-11T18:39:00.002-05:00

The very best tin lithographed space guns were the ones that used the toy's body as canvases for miniature works of science fiction art. I've always thought that this double-barreled holdout pistol was one of the coolest.

There's not a whole lot known about this little guy. It's a cap gun, and it was made by ~~DIA~~ an unknown company in Japan sometime around the late 1950s. The toy has embossed features, brightly colored and imaginative lithography, and, well, that's pretty much it.

But hey, how much more do you need?

The mechanism's fairly simple: The small latch on the left side of the toy releases the barrel, which flips forward. A roll of caps is inserted and the gun's ready to blast the enemy. It uses a standard roll of paper caps.

This is a pretty rare gun, especially in decent condition. And while mine has a few scratches and rough patches, I'm just happy to own one at all. There's no special story behind how I got it -- eBay provides, you know? I definitely felt good adding it to my shelf, though.

New Blog!

2010-12-01T04:23:00.001-05:00

It's official: My new toy blog is up and running. So if you're interested in seeing all the stuff in my collection that's not 50-plus years old, head on over to what I hope is the appropriately named Galactic Awesome! at galacticawesome.blogspot.com.

As I said, it'll showcase things like vintage Star Wars toys, old Japanese die-cast robots and space ships, vinyl kaiju, Star Trek and Lost in Space ephemera, monster toys, and pretty much anything else I can think of. Should be fun!

Have no fear, the Attic of Astounding Artifacts isn't going anywhere. But sometimes I'll post here, and sometimes I'll post in Galactic Awesome!, and sometimes I'll post in both of them. And, of course, often times I'll simply not post at all. Because sometimes it's more fun to play with toys than to write about them. (Duh!)

(That said, expect a neat ray gun update later this week!)

By the way, thanks to everyone who suggested names for the new blog. Some of them were... um... awfully creative. In the end, though, I decided to just go with one of my own. Love it, hate it, it is what it is. Personally, I think Galactic Awesome! is kind of weird and syntactically challenged, but also charmingly in tune with all those great toys. (And yes, the exclamation point is part of the official name. I could get annoyed by it, though, so I reserve the right to change my mind.)

Anyway, I'm reasonably certain that Galactic Awesome! will appeal to a number of the Attic's readers. But I'm also sure that a number of you will look at it and think, "Meh." But if you're interested in seeing what grew out of all the toys featured here, I hope you'll take a gander at the toys I feature there. Who knows? Maybe you'll find a whole bunch of new ways to blow your hard earned cash!

New Blog: Help Me Name It!

2010-11-29T14:55:00.001-05:00

I've got a lot of toys. Most of them are more than 50 years old, and I write about them in this very blog. Obviously.

But I also collect some newer vintage toys, like Star Wars figures, Tron stuff, old Star Trek phasers, and a bunch of weird Japanese things. And frankly, I'd like to write about them, too. But the Attic of Astounding Artifacts isn't really the place for it.

So I'm starting a new blog to focus on all these other toys. It'll be a little less formal, probably, and I can't promise it'll be as chock full of information. But it'll be cool, it'll be fun, and hopefully it'll show off some toys that not everyone has a chance to see.

But now I need help naming it. So I'm calling on you, my weird and faithful readers, to shout out some suggestions. This isn't a contest, there's no prize. If I use your name, though, I'll be sure to give you all the credit in the world. I'll give you so much credit that you'll be getting credit for stuff you didn't even do. Hardcore credit, yo.

Leave your suggestions in the comments. I'll keep them hidden until the final name is picked.

Thanks!

Leslie Nielsen (February 11, 1926 - November 28, 2010)

2010-11-29T01:09:00.000-05:00

Leslie William Nielsen died early Sunday evening of complications stemming from pneumonia. He was 84.

This makes me very sad.

Nielsen was probably best known for his comedic roles in such movies as Airplane! and The Naked Gun (the latter based on a role he created in the TV show Police Squad). But for myself and most readers of this blog, he will forever be remembered as Commander John J. Adams in 1956's classic science-fiction film Forbidden Planet.

Publicity still of Nielsen as Commander John J. Adams in Forbidden Planet.

The one-sheet movie poster for Forbidden Planet.

In the film, Nielsen and his crew of the United Planets Cruiser C-57D land on Altair IV, where they meet Dr. Edward Morbius, his daughter Altaira, and Robby the Robot -- the sole survivors of a tragic expedition that landed on the planet 20 years earlier. They learn of the planet's former inhabitants, the Krell, a race of hyper-intelligent beings who mysteriously disappeared. And they discover that the planet harbors a dark secret, one that threatens the lives of everyone on the C-57D.

Nielsen with Anne Francis (Altaira) and Robby the Robot.

Nielsen and Francis.

Nielsen played Adams as a man of action whose sense of honor and duty sits side-by-side with his reputation as an intergalactic ladies man. He's noble, dashing, intelligent, and quick with a blaster -- an old-school space hero who gets the girl in the end. (If that's a spoiler, none of you have ever read a science fiction story or seen an SF movie from the 1950s.)

Half-sheet poster for Forbidden Planet.

I always admired how Nielsen took his character seriously. There was never any wink in his performance, never a sense that he was too good for the role, or that he was slumming it by appearing in a science fiction film. And as years went by, he never wavered in his attitude, always speaking fondly of the film and his part in it. (Unlike, say, Walter Pigeon, who played Morbius. He ran from Forbidden Planet like it was a swarm of bees, and always resented the promotional appearances he had to make to support the film. Oh well.)

Forbidden Planet holds a special place in the hearts of most robot collectors. Not only is it one of the best science fiction movies of all time -- and I'll fight anyone who tries to say differently! -- but it also gave us the great Robby the Robot. Toy manufacturers, in turn, transformed Robby into some of the most exciting toys ever to sit on a toy shelf. (And I'll fight anyone who tries to say differently about this, too!)

Various Robby-inspired toy robots. (back row) Mechanized Robot. (middle row, from left) wind up Planet Robot, Piston Robot, battery operated Planet Robot, and Moon Robot. (front row, from left) Space Trooper, battery operated Jupiter Robot, and wind up Jupiter Robot.

But as great as Robby was, and as near to my heart as he sits, my favorite character in Forbidden Planet was Commander Adams. For giving us that, as well as decades of goofy laughs, I humbly salute Leslie Nielsen. He will be fondly remembered and sorely missed.

The Space Toy Artwork of Steven Skollar

2010-11-19T14:57:00.003-05:00

If you're in New York City this weekend, I highly recommend heading over to SoHo's Arcadia Gallery to check out the latest exhibition of paintings by artist Steven Skollar. His focus is on (mostly) vintage toys -- robots, ray guns, flying saucers, and other odds and ends. Yep, all the stuff we love!

Painting © Steven Skollar. Used with permission.

His paintings evoke the masters of prior centuries, with a very formal approach to lighting and composition. But this juxtaposes wonderfully with his pop culture subject matter, and the end result is something forceful yet whimsical. If I had a fireplace and a mantel in my toy room, his are exactly the kinds of paintings I'd want to hang above it.

I had the pleasure of meeting Steven for the first time nearly a year ago, when he asked if he could use some of my robots and ray guns as models for his paintings. Of course I said yes, and Steven came over with a pretty interesting -- and top secret! -- photo rig which he used to snap shots of a number of different toys. (I wrote about the day here.) I'm thrilled to see that many of them made the final cut, and now grace the walls of a SoHo art gallery. And people say that toy collecting isn't respectable! Pshaw!

Painting © Steven Skollar. Used with permission.

Painting © Steven Skollar. Used with permission.

Painting © Steven Skollar. Used with permission.

Painting © Steven Skollar. Used with permission.

The exhibit runs until Sunday, November 26. Arcadia Gallery is located at 51 Greene Street, New York, NY. Their number is 212-965-1387, and their web site is www.arcadiafineart.com. Steven Skollar can be found online at www.stevenskollar.com

Prototype Television Robot (Yonezawa/1960s/Japan/9.5 inches)

2010-11-18T15:20:00.001-05:00

Toys aren't born, they're made. And before they can be made, they go through stages of development that begin with sketches and model-making and culminate in the creation of a prototype. If the stars align properly -- i.e., the prototype works correctly, people like the design, and production isn't too costly -- the prototype is transformed into a toy.

But sometimes a toy never gets that far. Sometimes, something about the robot prevents it from making it out of the pre-production stage and on to the toy shelf. The toy industry is full of "what ifs" and "also rans," robots that started as really good ideas but, for whatever reason, never quite made the cut.

And while most of these prototypes were dismantled and turned into scrap, some survived. They remained in dark factory corners, or sitting on shelves in forgotten closets. They dodged the ravages of time and neglect until finally, finally, intrepid collectors dragged them into the light. And now, decades later, they survive as giant curiosities that hint at all the wonderful toys that, had fate not dipped and dived in the wrong direction, might be sitting on our shelves today.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of one such toy.

Presenting the prototype for a never-produced Television Robot by the company Yonezawa. Please bask in its glory for as much time as you'd like. I'm happy to wait.

I know, I know. It doesn't look like much. Just two legs, feet, a gear box, a pair of arms, and that big, round space scene on the front of its chest. But that's part of its charm. It's a prototype. For a toy that was never produced. Of course it's not going to look like a super model. But I would argue that a prototype is even cooler when you can tell that it's a prototype.

Prototypes demonstrate the toy-making process, providing a glimpse into the often hidden world of toy development. They're stages in the act of creation, and, in my opinion, are most interesting when they illustrate these stages. This means they're often rough around the edges compared to a finished toy, but that's the point.

And it gets even cooler. These prototypes are one-of-a-kind, hand-made toys. To use an art analogy, these are the original paintings and pencil sketches, while the toys themselves are just machine-made prints. As such, I consider them wonderful works of mechanical art.

So... What exactly are we looking at? Allow me to break it all down.

This is a concept for a walking Television robot. As far as we can tell, the toy walks forward with swinging arms and a spinning antenna in what would have been its head. At the same time, the disk on its chest rotates about 30% before stopping. Then a bulb lights up, illuminating the scene, which would be visible through a TV window on the robot's chest. After a few seconds, the whole process starts all over again.

It sounds fairly basic, but the toy included one feature that was positively revolutionary -- at least, it would have been if the robot had ever made it into production: Bump-And-Go action.

Bump-and-go action allows a toy to slam into a wall, spin around, and go in another direction. It's common on skirted robots and many space cars, tractors, tanks -- pretty much anything that rolls. However, no one in the hobby had ever seen it on a walking robot until this prototype surfaced.

So how's it work? The robot walks forward until it bumps into a wall. This pushes in a tab on the toy's left foot, which engages a mechanism that causes the wheels in its feet to only roll backwards for a set period of time. As the robot continues to try to walk forward -- the right leg still works properly -- it ends up spinning itself in a circle. By the time it's facing away from the wall, the mechanism in the left foot has disengaged, allowing the wheels in the foot to roll forward again. This, in turn, permits the robot to start walking -- until it hits another wall, of course.

It's an elegant solution that would have given the toy so much additional play value. But looking at the inside of the foot, you can see that it's a fairly complicated mechanism that probably added to the toy's production cost. It's sad, but not surprising, that Yonezawa never implemented it in any of their toys.

Now, remember I mentioned that these toys are hand-made? This brings us to one of the prototype's coolest features: The hand-painted space art on the chest disk. As a fan of both toy robots and original science fiction art, I can barely express how cool I think this is. I'm amazed my head hasn't exploded already.

My friend and fellow collector, Donald Conner, pointed out that whoever painted the wonderful scenes of rockets, space stations, and robots on this disk most likely also painted the original artwork for at least some of the litho on other robots. Not only that, there's a great chance he created some box art as well.

That noise you just heard was my head finally going boom.

The scene is painted on a clear piece of round plastic using what look like water colors. It's backed with a piece of thin, translucent paper that helps to diffuse the light from the bulb that illuminates the art. The disk has warped a bit with age, and you can see spots where the paper has pulled away, taking some of the artwork with it. So the whole thing is extremely delicate. Still, it displays wonderfully, delivering a tiny, funky science fiction universe.

I don't really know too much about the Television Robot Prototype's history. It was discovered in Japan, and at some point it made its way onto the Yahoo Japan auction site. A well-known dealer won it for a collector here in the States, and he owned it for a couple years. Recently, he decided to get out of the hobby -- his collection was amazing! -- and he's been selling off his toys over the last couple months. When I saw the prototype on the block, I jumped at it.

When the toy was originally discovered, it was missing its right leg and foot. The funky bump-and-go mechanism was attached to the left foot plate, but the foot plate itself didn't fit perfectly to the foot housing. The toy had no battery box -- there was no way to see what it could really do.

(Photo: John Rigg)

So it was sent to toy collector, and robot-builder extraordinaire John Rigg. The prototype's owner knew that John could find a way to replace the missing parts and provide the toy with power -- but without doing anything that would damage the prototype itself. It was important to preserve this piece of history, so like all conservation and restoration work, anything done to the robot needed to be completely reversible.

John is a legend in the hobby. He's got an amazing collection, which he houses in the Robot Hut, a giant building that he constructed himself on his farm out west. John's also a genius when it comes to electronics, fabrication, and all-around mad science. In his spare time, he likes to customize toy robots for himself and other collectors; he also builds life-size recreations of famous Hollywood robots, like Robby from Forbidden Planet and Gort from The Day the Earth Stood Still. He's opened and repaired more vintage robots that most of us will ever own, and there's probably no one left alive who knows more about how these toys work. So of course he was the perfect choice to take on the job.

Never let it be said that John doesn't commit 100% to a job! Using the left leg and foot, he created templates for the missing parts, which he then painstakingly fabricated out of tin. He even made molds of the medallions on the side of the legs in order to create copies. The new foot was given a simple walking mechanism, and then attached to the leg. The leg was then put in the body, and careful attention was paid to how it would hook up to the gear box. After all, John wasn't satisfied with having the toy merely stand up -- he wanted it to work, too!

(Photo: John Rigg)

To give it power, he attached a battery box to a piece of metal, which was then screwed into existing holes on the robot's back -- most likely where the actual battery box would have attached. Everything was attached to the toy's motor. Of course it all worked perfectly. (John didn't bother to re-attach the bump-and-go mechanism. It didn't fit right, as I mentioned, so it was decided to leave it off so that it could be displayed next to the robot. It's a choice I wholeheartedly support and agree with.)

(Photo: John Rigg)

Unfortunately, not much else is known about this robot. There's a picture of another prototype piece that might be the toy's body and head, and I'll discuss this in a future post when more information becomes available. But the robot's name, the exact year it was created, where it was found -- it's all still a mystery. Obviously, one that I'd love to solve.

A lot of collectors just aren't into prototypes. Their attitude: "It's just a step in the process, who cares? And an unproduced prototype? A step in the process that didn't even lead anywhere? Pshaw! What's the point, man? You got rooked!"

Of course, a lot of collectors also feel just like I do. They understand that this is an important, rare, and -- yes -- beautiful piece of history, and as such, is valuable to the hobby in ways that can't be understated. It's also an inspiring reminder that for every toy we've seen, there are probably hundreds that never made it out the factory doors. These unproduced toys are flights of fancy for some enthusiastic toy designers, efforts that demonstrate talent, imagination, and technical expertise. They're a direct link to the people who made all these wonderful toys that we collect, and something that very few people have the opportunity to see, much less own.

So I'm kind of freaking out. As a collector, I consider this a grail piece, something I've tried to find for a long time without ever really knowing what I was looking for. And now that I've got it? I couldn't be happier.

Special thanks to John Rigg, whose work with the Television Robot uncovered all of its cool features and ultimately brought it back to life. John's the one who figured out the walking mechanism, and he's graciously allowed me to paraphrase his description, and use his photos, in this post.

For more information on the prototype, and to see more of John's repair photos, check out this thread on Alphadrome: Yonezawa Prototype.

I'm Back, Baby!

2010-11-18T09:55:00.000-05:00

Too long have I let this blog lie neglected. Too long have I disregarded my right -- nay, my obligation... my duty -- to write about vintage space toys. Too long has the door to the Attic of Astounding Artifacts remained closed.

Today, that ends!

Time to start posting again. I've got lots of new toys, lots of new stuff to talk about... and lots of guilt for not writing anything in a while.

So... I'm working on a post right now. Photos are taken, information is collated, and sentences are being constructed. I've recently added something to my collection that's so freakin' cool I can't wait to share it with everyone. It's a little bit different, a little bit funky, and definitely kind of meta, but it's also historic, intellectually fascinating, and endlessly fun.

Check back later today. I promise, there will be an actual post!

Excuses, Excuses...

2010-08-28T12:19:00.001-04:00

I know I'm supposed to update this blog, but I've gotta admit, I've been a little distracted lately. See, Ol' Doc Atomic is engaged.

And I don't mean, "I'm engaged in the act of collecting toys." (Even though I always am!) No, I mean engaged engaged. Like, you know, to get married. So I've been a little less focused than usual, and the blog, well, it's suffering for it.

But give me a couple more days to get my head together and I promise I'll start posting regularly. I've got a pile of toys just itching to be written about, I've got another "Captain Conner's Corner" article about saucers that I've been sitting on for months, I've got two amazing interviews that are begging to see the light of day -- really good stuff! Rest assured, this blog has not been orphaned!

But you'll understand if I've got a few other things on my mind!

And now a question, because I could really use some advice: How do I convince my completely awesome future wife that using toy robots as invite themes, table decorations, and a cake topper will not make our wedding look like a science fiction fan's bar mitzvah?

Not Dead Yet!

2010-08-24T04:03:00.000-04:00

But I have been very, very busy. I do apologize for the long delay between posts, but I plan on putting up a new ray gun entry tomorrow. In the meantime, here's a question:

Of all the toys posted here in the Attic, which is your favorite so far? And if that's too difficult, how about giving me your top three?

No particular reason, I'm just curious. If you're so inclined, stick your answers in the comment section.

More tomorrow!

Video: Astronaut Discusses Science Fiction

2010-08-06T09:43:00.000-04:00

I recently travelled down to NASA headquarters in Washington, D.C., to film a presentation by astronaut and U.S. Army Col. Timothy "T.J." Creamer. He was discussing his days onboard the International Space Station with an audience of about 40 people, all of whom follow his tweets from space. My shoot was for a piece being produced for a web site called Rocketboom.

The entire talk was fascinating, but my ears really perked up when he took a moment to discuss science fiction. Consider it: A real, live astronaut. Talking about science fiction. I'm amazed my head didn't explode. Since the bite never made it into the final Rocketboom piece, I got permission to post it here in the Attic. If you'd like to see it in glorious HD, click through to the YouTube page and select the highest resolution.

You know, I've interviewed a lot of famous people, a lot of powerful people, a lot of downright interesting people. And after all this time, I've really learned to keep my cool and remain professional whatever the situation. But standing in front of an astronaut -- and a really friendly, cool one, at that -- was pretty amazing, and I'm not embarrassed to admit that I came real close to becoming a blubbering fanboy. I held it together, but when we walked out of the shoot, I couldn't stop grinning and I'm pretty sure my correspondent was sick of me muttering under my breath, "So cool... so freakin' cool!"

You can check out the Rocketboom piece, which includes a short, but exclusive interview with Colonel Creamer, at rocketboom.com.

NASA broadcasted the entirety of the presentation live on their web site; I'm sure it's still archived there. Find it at NASA.gov.

W Robot (Noguchi / 1960s / Japan / 7 inches)

2010-07-31T10:53:00.000-04:00

A mystery in the toy world: What's the "W" on the W Robot stand for? "Wonderful"? "Wicked"? "Wow"? I have no idea. Like I said, it's a mystery! What's not a mystery is that this little robot is super cool. (See what I did there? It's call reincorporation, and it's a writing technique that's so common it's actually a cliche. But I did it anyway, because that's how I roll.)

I've always liked this funky little 'bot. His unusual, round body, the playful litho, that cool sparking window on his chest -- he's a true original! The W Robot is a fairly common toy, relatively inexpensive, and often an early addition to many people's collections. I think he was my fourth or fifth robot, and I remember being excited to discover a toy I recognized immediately from one of the great books by famous Japanese collector T. Kitahara. (Not that this particular example of the toy appeared in the book, of course.)

The W Robot is part of a category of robots known as "paddle wheels," so called because of their unusual walking mechanism that employs a pair of off-axis wheels connected to paddle-like feet. Unlike his cousins, though, the W robot's mechanics are much more finished looking.

There are a number of variations on this particular robot. One version has more human-like arms, which are in fact taken from a paddle-wheel astronaut toy that uses the exact same body as the W robot, but entirely different lithography. Another version of the W Robot features a small, plastic spinner on its head. A third, extremely rare version -- I've only seen one -- has a different red gel on its chest. And lastly, there's a version of the toy produced by a Greek company that has a different symbol on its chest (and is marked as being made in Greece).

By the way, the background in these shots is yet another experiment. I was trying for something vaguely lush and organic, something weird with a lot of texture. I think I achieved it, but I'm not sure it actually works. It's a little busy, I think. Nice, but maybe not quite right for photographing robots. The opening shot, in particular, lacks sufficient separation between the subject -- the 'bot -- and the background. The lighting's too strong, and there depth of field isn't nearly shallow enough. Oh well, live and learn!

Wind Up Gear Robot (Horikawa / 1960s / Japan / 9 inches)

2010-07-23T23:08:00.000-04:00

Now this is a colorful robot!

The Wind Up Gear Robot isn't the first gear robot made by Horikawa, and it wouldn't be their last. The company definitely got a lot of mileage out of its gears, but that's great because, let's face it, gears and robots go together like... well... gears and robots.

This is one of Horikawa's famed "Fly Eyes," so called because of the trapezoidal, perforated pieces of tin on their faces. The company made a lot of them, with all sorts of functions, over the course of its multi-decade manufacturing run. There are so many Fly Eyes out there, in fact, that many collectors have sub-collections of nothing but this particular style of robot. And those collections are probably bigger than my entire collection combined!

You can tell that this is one of Horikawa's later robots by the plastic head, arms, legs, and feet. The body is still tin, as is the lithographed panel behind the clear, plexi chest shield. I used to not really love too much plastic on my vintage robots, but over the years I've come to accept that, regardless of what it's made of, a cool robot is a cool robot.

I think it's a lesson we can apply to many parts of our lives, yes? Yes.

I won this robot -- and one other -- at an auction recently. It was a fun experience; I was phone bidding for the first time. For all the auctioneer knew, I was bidding in my boxers. I wasn't, but I like that I could have been.

I ended up getting the two robots for less than half of what this one's worth on its own. Even with the tarnished mouth and eyes, I'm still amazed that I paid as little as I did. It's not a toy that's been super high on my want list, but it's definitely one I've been eyeing for a while. It was nice adding it to my shelf -- doing so at a bargain basement price was a bonus! This hobby's full of surprises, I tell ya.

Electro Art Works On Display!

2010-07-16T14:56:00.001-04:00

I'd like to give a shout out to sculptor Andy Hill, who has three of his Andy Bots included in an exhibit called "The Art of the Robot" at the Mulvane Art Museum in Topeka, Kansas.

Photo: Curator Carol Emert for the Mulvane Art Museum. Via Alphadrome.

Andy is a talented artist who creates fascinating toy robots out of found objects. His pieces are always fun and full of personality, and wrought with such skill that you can rarely tell where the individual parts originally came from. I've written about him, and have posted pics of my own Andy Bots, here.

"The Art of the Robot" runs through September 19, and includes works by 17 artists, including Hill, Clayton Bailey, Eric Joyner, Nemo Gould, and David Lipson. For more information, visit the Mulvane Art Museum's web site.

You can find out more about Andy Hill's work by visiting his site, Electro Art Works.

Re-Arranging The Shelves

2010-07-15T03:39:00.000-04:00

I've added a few new robots to my collection lately, and frankly, the cases are starting to feel a bit cluttered. Time for some re-arranging!

I enjoy figuring out new ways to display my toys. It's a chance to interact with the collection, to pull down all the robots and really get a feel for them after what's often been quite a long time. When I've finished, the collection feels brand new; I get overly comfortable seeing the toys in the same place day in and day out, and sometimes they end up becoming background noise. By shaking things up, I really find myself focusing on these toys in a brand new way.

I didn't get too fancy in how I approached the new set up. In the past, I've grouped things by look or color or action. This time, I just went with aesthetics. If a clump of toys looks good together, they stay together. (Full disclosure: Some of my shelves remain untouched; they looked good before and I still think they look good now.)

What about you guys? How often do you re-arrange your collections? Is it a fun process? A painful one? What sort of criteria do you use when deciding how to arrange your stuff? Leave any thoughts in the comments section.

Mr. Zerox (Horikawa / 1965 / Japan / 9 inches)

2010-07-14T00:56:00.000-04:00

Mr. Zerox is a robot with a lot of personality. Just look at those shades! Look at that jaunty cap! Stylin!

Popular culture in the Fifties and Sixties was obsessed with atomic energy, and toy manufactures capitalized on this by sticking variations of the word "atom" in the names of everything they produced. Heck, in the world of robots alone I can think of four examples off the top of my head: Mr. Atomic, Atomic Robot Man, Mr. Atom, and Atom Robot.

Making less of an impact on people's imaginations? Photocopy technology. And yet, and yet, Horikawa decided to embrace this mad science by naming a robot after the Mac Daddy of all photocopy companies, Xerox. Of course, they changed things up by using a Z instead of an X. Perhaps to avoid lawsuits? Or maybe the Japanese company spelled the name phonetically. Who knows? Horikawa's departure from the world of atoms and all things atomic was bold, and darn it, I salute their gumption and individuality!

Note the separate, contoured eye piece. You can just make out the circles underneath it where Horikawa would have put the round eyes found on similar robots.

Mr. Zerox has a fun, if straightforward, action. Flip the switch on this battery powered robot and it walks forward while the green window on its chest lights up. After a few steps, the front door flips forward, and two guns pop out and flash while making a rat-tat-tat sound.

The center bulb between the two guns is what actually lights up.

Horikawa was one of the longest running toy companies, producing robots for more than four decades. Horikawa made so many robots, in fact, that many collectors have sub-collections of the toys within their robot collection. This is one of the earlier pieces, marked as such by its all-tin construction and small stature. I definitely wouldn't call it a rare toy, but it's not too common either -- especially in decent condition.

A nice burst of colorful litho accompanies the chest guns. The "SH" symbol stands for Horikawa.

The grill on top of the hat helps the rat-tat-tat sound come through loud and (annoyingly) clear.

I was late in coming to this robot. In fact, I was late in coming to Horikawa robots altogether. I'm not exactly sure why, I think I just wasn't familiar with them. But as I delved deeper into the hobby, and as I became exposed to more and more robots, I discovered the Horikawa's undeniable charms. Creative actions, iconic designs -- all the elements of a great toy robot.

By the way, in case you didn't notice, I've decided to abandon my old photo background. The shelf of toys was getting played out, so I'll be messing around with some new ideas in the coming posts. Keepin' it fresh!

Mechanical Moon Robot (Yonezawa / Early 1960s / Japan / 9 inches)

2010-07-10T00:01:00.001-04:00

Forbidden Planet's Robby the Robot was quickly adopted by toy makers, and subsequently released in a dizzying array of copyright-dodging redesigns. The Mechanical Moon Robot is one of my all time favorites.

Mechanical Moon Robot is better known to many collectors as Ribbon Robby, thanks to the three twists of metal inside his dome. Wind the key, throw the switch on his chest, and then watch as he walks forward while sparks light up his two head gels, and the metal ribbons change color as they rotate. It's a simple, subdued effect -- especially compared to the bells and whistles of his battery powered cousins -- but that's what what I love. The robot's kind of primitive, charmingly whimsical, and altogether fun.

The ribbons come in a couple color variations; the most common of them replaces the red -- I think -- with green. Something like that. None of these is more common than any other, and I can't imagine most collectors care too much about which they own. That said, I'm glad I've got the ribbons in red, yellow, and blue. Classic colors in the vintage toy world!

Yonezawa made some interesting decisions when designing the Ribbon Robby. First, there's that bright pink dome. Many examples of the toy appear to have clear domes; in reality, the color faded over time, and when looked at from the proper angle, you can usually pick up a slight tint. Interesting detail: Two screws lock the dome into place, one in the back and one on its right side. Why only the right side? I've got no idea.

Next, Yonezawa chose to paint the toy a strange, blueish-greenish-blackish color that changes ever so slightly depending on the quality and color temperature of the light. It's really quite lovely, especially when combined with the toy's light hammer-tone finish. Yonezawa apparently used slightly different batches of paint when doing the various runs of this toy. The color doesn't change, but one batch cures oddly over time, leading to a covering of fine lines known as "spidering." It doesn't really detract from the toy -- in fact, it adds a little character to what would have otherwise been a simple paint scheme -- and rarely effects the price. It's just the way some of the toys are. The other batches are more like mine, and have a slightly different paint composition that for whatever reason remains shiny and relatively smooth. There's a bit of spidering, but nothing like what you find on some of the Ribbons. Frankly, I think they both look nice, and I suppose it'd be valid for a hardcore collector to own one of each. I'm not that hardcore a collector, though, so I'll remain satisfied with my one, mint robot.

Finally, Yonezawa made the interesting decision to use a hard, blue rubber to form the toy's hands and "ears." It looks great, but time isn't always too nice to these rubber parts. Cracking and splitting is common, and even under the best of circumstances, the rubber hardens. Reproductions are available, though they never feel or look quite right.

The Ribbon Robby is definitely an uncommon toy, and downright rare in this condition, and I've wanted one since first entering the hobby. Soon after I'd joined Alphadrome, the online forum for robot and space toy collectors, Steve Jaspen invited me to his house to see his collection. He didn't know me from a hole in the wall, but we lived near each other and Steve's always been the type of guy to reach out to new collectors. I was just thrilled to have a chance to see some robots I'd only read about up until that point.

Steve's collection was -- and still is -- pretty darn amazing, with some toys that are so rare, even if you had a fortune in your wallet you still probably wouldn't be able to get your hands on them. But the piece that really jumped out at me was a strange looking Robby, a fairly simple robot with odd little ribbons behind a pink dome.

"Oh, you like that one?" asked Steve.

I sputtered some sort of affirmative. Maybe I drooled.

"You should see it in action," he replied. He wound it up, placed it on a table, and within seconds I was hooked. I knew that one day I'd get to own one.

Well, that day took longer than I thought it would, I'll admit. I almost snagged a Ribbon Robby at the Morphy auction last November, but instead I decided to bid on a rare Cragstan Ranger Robot. I didn't regret my decision -- the Ranger Robot was so clean that I knew I'd never find another as nice. But still, there was a little Robby-shaped hole in my heart that I really wanted to fill...

Finally, a few days ago, I made contact with a long-time dealer/collector named Jay Brotter at Robot Island. (I've known Jay for a few years.) It turns out he had this 'bot for sale, and at a price I couldn't possibly pass up. I immediately decided to buy it, and two days later -- a record for the Post Office, I'm sure -- it was sitting on my shelf. Given the condition, I'd say it was definitely worth the wait.

It's always nice when a toy that had taken up residence on my Want List finally ends up in my collection. There's a feeling of satisfaction that I don't always get when I pick up robots that I only just learn about. Of all the robots on my Want List, this one was sitting right up at the top. It makes getting it that much sweeter.

Get Well Soon, Morbius!

2010-07-06T02:27:00.001-04:00

I want to give a shout out to a great robot collector by the name of Mike -- known on the Interweb as "Morbius" -- who hasn't been feeling too well lately. He's stuck in a hospital and could probably use some cheering up. So in an effort to make him grin, and in lieu of anything better, I present this riddle:

What's red and smells like a blue robot?

If you give up, Mike, you can check the comments section for the answer!

And let me give his daughter, "Altaira," a virtual pat on the back. She's been relaying messages back and forth between her pop and the rest of the toy robot community, and we all really appreciate it. Altaira's a robot collector herself, and with her dad's help, she's built quite a shelf of toys. She's got a great eye and and an honest enthusiasm for robots, and once she's got some disposable income of her own, she's probably going to rule this hobby!

So feel better Mike, and keep up the good work Altaira. I expect to see you both at Botstock next year!

Atom Buster (Webb Electric Co. / 1950s / U.S.A. / 6.5 inches x 11 inches)

2010-06-30T15:28:00.000-04:00

Big, bad, and bold: It's the Atom Buster!

This is definitely a fun toy. All barrel-shaped and covered in fins, it evokes the classic 1950s fear of atomic annihilation. Like I said, a fun toy!

The Atom Buster fires a blast of air at a tissue-paper target printed with an image of a mushroom cloud. Which begs the questions: Is it firing an atomic blast and the cloud is supposed to be the result? Is it firing a blast of air at the mushroom cloud, presumably to "bust" it, as the name suggests? But then why is it shaped like a bomb itself? And why does a gun need bomb-like fins? And why did a company called Webb Electric make a toy that's not electrical?

Frankly, we may never know. Some mysteries of the universe are never meant to be solved.

The gun was originally available in yellow, green, and red, with yellow being by far the most common. Red and green are about tied for scarcity -- I've seen a couple of each over the years. The boxes are all identical, and feature the yellow gun. However, there are three dots -- yellow, green, and red -- on the face. A circle around the dot denotes which gun goes with the box. It kind of makes you wonder if Webb Electric Co. knew that collectors, 50 years later, would want to know if they had the correct gun-box combination...

I once owned a yellow, boxed example of the Atom Buster -- it was one of the first few ray guns I bought. It wasn't a perfect piece, though. The bottom fin was missing, something neither I nor the seller realized during the auction (because the break was so clean, and I'd never seen a mint example before). So I was always looking for an upgrade...

One day, a dead-mint, boxed green example popped up on eBay. It was complete with the tissue paper target, too, and I wanted it bad. It was a buy-it-now sale only, and the price was just too high for me at the time. I let it go and figured that was that. It didn't sell, though, and a week later it appeared again -- with the price cut by a third! I stared at it longingly, but again, I had to let it go. Still, it remained unsold and a week later it appeared again, this time at half the price. Finally affordable!

Except that I'd just spent a lot of money on something else and was flat broke.

This time, the gun sold -- of course! Thus is the life of a ray gun collector.

It all worked out in the end though when I snagged this mint-in-box red one a couple years later. I like the red better, anyway, so there!

Yikes! Long Time, No Post...

2010-06-29T18:11:00.000-04:00

Just got back from a few days away and I really need to post something. I know, I know, I'm a bad, bad blogger. I've a couple pieces in the pipe, I'll start getting them up by tomorrow. Stay tuned!

A Moment of Activism

2010-06-18T11:25:00.003-04:00

I like to avoid politics on this blog. Unless a robot is running for office or someone's attempting to infringe upon my right to bear ray guns, I consider politics to be off topic. We can get enough of that stuff from other sources, anyway. So I apologize in advance for this post, but it's something that I feel is important. Plus, it's a tri-partisan issue (yep, tri-), so hopefully no one will feel like I'm attacking their party directly.

It's come to my attention that three senators -- Joseph Lieberman (I-CT), Susan Collins (R-ME), and Tom Carper (D-DE) -- have drafted a bill that will provide to the government what is essentially unlimited authority to shut down web sites and web providers. There's a lot to the bill, so I'll simply post a link to a site that seems to have a pretty good grasp of the story. It also heavily quotes Lieberman, so you're definitely getting it straight from the horse's mouth.

http://rawstory.com/rs/2010/0618/senators-introduce-bill-disconnect-internet/

I hope I don't need to explain why this is bad news, and I hope that people understand that this is absolutely an issue of free speech and that this bill flies in the face of our constitutionally protected rights. Read up, and if you're so inclined, please find a way to let your own senators and representatives in the house know that you do not support this bill.

By the way, I won't be posting comments for this one. In an effort to avoid any crazy political arguments, discussions, rants, or accidental offense to anyone, I think I'll just limit it to the original post. This is purely informational. I hope everyone understands.

Now I'll step off my soapbox. Tomorrow: More toys!

...I wonder if I'll have any readers left...

Original Science Fiction Artwork, Pt. 3

2010-06-13T01:57:00.000-04:00

And now, the last of the three part series on the Attic's collection of original science fiction art. For those who are finding this via direct link, or who are just too darn lazy to scroll down, here are links to part one and part two.

1. "Far Horizon," by Morris Scott Dollens. 19" x 15". Ca. 1952. Casein on board.

Morris Scott Dollens was another of science fiction's most famous fan artists. He specialized in astronomical and interstellar landscapes, and produced hundreds such works over a more than 40 year career. He also experimented regularly with different painting techniques and stylistic approaches, often combining photos of models with paintings and other elements to create early multi-media montages. He's credited with publishing one of the earliest fanzines, and his work regularly appeared in both his own publications, and those of other fans (such as Roy A. Squires).

In 1952, Dollens published -- with Squires -- Approaching Infinity, a small chapbook of artwork and what can best be described as science fiction prose poems. While at times kind of cheesy, it nonetheless displays some of Dollens' earliest, most visually complicated art, pieces that combine his love of different media with his grand sense of wonder.

I've enjoyed Dollens' art for a while, so when "Far Horizon" came up for auction, I knew I wanted it. I also kept thinking that it looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. It wasn't until after I won the auction that I thought to check my copy of Approaching Infinity, which I've had in my vintage book collection for a while. Imagine my glee when I discovered that there, on the "About the Artist" page, was a thumbnail reproduction -- about one by two inches -- of "Far Horizon." While it wasn't part of the Approaching Infinity narrative, I guess Dollens liked it enough to use it on the page representing himself. Very cool!

From the George H. Scithers collection. Scithers was a science fiction fan, author, and Hugo award winning editor of both Amazing Stories, Asimov's Science Fiction, and various anthologies and collections. He worked with a who's who of authors and artists, and had a massive impact on the worlds of science fiction and fantasy. Scithers passed away on April 9, 2010.

2. "Approaching The Nebula," by Donald Simpson. 10" x 7". Ca. early 1970s. Watercolor airbrush and ink on board.

Don Simpson was a well known science fiction and astronomical artist who presented at many of the science fiction conventions in the 1970s. His work was often commissioned by George H. Scithers.

"Approaching the Nebula" was used as part of the cover art for L. Sprague de Camp and Catherine Crook de Camp's A Science-Fiction Handbook, Revised, which Scithers published in 1975. According to the auction in which I purchased the painting, Simpson said that he used "a technique I did a lot of art with at that time, a mixture of spray paint and Prismacolor colored pencil. I didn't have an airbrush, so I bought cans of spray paint and used stencils (raised above the paper when I needed a soft edge) and various modulation techniques I figured out, such as delicate touches on the spray-can button, or a wire near the nozzle to make the stream turbulent for textural variation. The spaceship design was heavily influenced by the works of Tim Kirk." (Don Simpson, as told to Jane Frank)

Personally, I think the technique lends a lot of atmosphere to the painting, giving it a sense of loneliness that you'd expect if you were on a space ship zooming towards some far off nebula. Technique and theme coming together -- it makes for a perfect piece of art.

And that's all for the Attic's original art. Back to toys this week!

A FINAL NOTE

Much of the biographical information contained in this post comes from the be-all and end-all of books about science fiction and fantasy artists, Science Fiction and Fantasy Artists of the Twentieth Century: A Biographical Dictionary, by Jane Frank. It's an exhaustive study of the subject with hundreds of in-depth entries about pretty much everyone who's ever produced any sort of art within the genre. Highly recommended!

A nice review: http://www.sfsite.com/08a/ar301.htm

Copies are available at both Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

And if you're looking for science fiction artwork yourself, check out Jane Frank's online store, Worlds of Wonder (www.wow-art.com). She's been collecting and selling artwork for decades and really is one of the tops in the business.

Original Science Fiction Artwork, Pt. 2

2010-06-10T00:42:00.002-04:00

Continuing with the previous post, here are four more pieces of original science fiction art. I'll be concluding this in part three, which I'll write once two final paintings show up in the mail. Ooooh, the anticipation! (Note: Part 3 is up!)

1. "World of Null-A," by Eddie Jones. 15" x 9". Ca. 1970. Gouache on board.

As I wrote here, England's Eddie Jones was a regular part of the science fiction art scene, and his work helped define how sf looked in the late Sixties and Seventies. His most famous series of paintings were for the covers of various Star Trek novels, many of which were written by author extraordinaire James Blish.

This painting was done for a European edition of A. E. Van Vogt's science fiction classic The World of Null-A. The art depicts the novel's hero standing in front of the giant, building sized computer that helps rule the world in the far future. All the detail, the bold colors, the moody atmosphere -- it's all part and parcel of what makes Jones' art so damn compelling.

2. "Unknown," by Jon D. Arfstrom. 3" x 3". Ca. 1940s or 1950s. Scratchboard.

Jon D. Arfstrom started as a fan artist in the Forties, contributing piles of illustrations to fanzines. Much of his work was published by legendary 'zine publisher, book dealer, and letterpress printer Roy A. Squires in his Fantasy Advertiser. By 1951, Arfstrom was contributing work professionally to various pulps, including Weird Tales and Other Worlds. He eventually grew beyond genre work, becoming a well known mid-western artist.

Though he's a formidable painter, Arfstrom remains one of my favorite black and white illustrators -- and I absolutely love this particular piece. The detail is astounding. Scratchboard is pretty unforgiving; the art is created by literally scratching away the black surface to reveal the white part of the board. If you screw up, the only way to fix the mistake is to cover it over with black paint -- but it never looks right.

I have no idea if it was ever published; I'm guessing yes, and I'm guessing it was in one of Roy Squires' fanzines. He was a prolific publisher, though, and I haven't had the opportunity to hunt down the artwork. One of these days I'll get around to it.

3. "Unknown," by Malcom H. Smith. 4.5" x 3". Ca. 1950. Gouache on board.

Malcom H. Smith began his professional career in 1940 with submissions to Amazing Stories, which was published by Ziff-Davis. He eventually joined their staff, working his way up to art director when they expanded their line of titles. Smith also contributed regularly to Other Worlds, Imagination, Fate, and other pulps. At one point, he completed hundreds of paintings for the nonfiction book Life On Other Worlds -- but sadly the project was shelved. (Apparently, at least one of the paintings made its way into a collection.) Smith went on to work as an artist for NASA at the Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama.

Now, there's a bit of a mystery surrounding this particular piece. First, there's no proof that Smith actually painted it. I've spoken to a number of experts who all agree that it certainly looks like something Smith might have done -- the aliens, in particular, appear in some of his covers. There's also agreement that despite some issues surrounding the proportions of the woman in the painting, the line work and color show the solid technique of someone who knew his way around a paint brush. So what gives?

This painting came from the collection of legendary science fiction fan Forrest J Ackerman, a man who had befriended pretty much everyone in the field and who had amassed over the years a stupendous, museum-sized collection of ephemera, movie props, books, and yes, artwork. With that in mind, the leading theory, proposed by many of the people I spoke to about this piece of art, is that perhaps Smith painted it as a quick sketch for Forry -- maybe as a gift. It'd certainly explain the roughness.

While I'm only about 90% convinced that this was done by Smith, I choose to accept it as fact. It's a nice idea, and it's about as close to owning a real Smith as I'm ever likely to get.

Regardless as to who did it, I think it's an awesome piece of art, a funky take on alien invasion scenarios and yet another opportunity to ask, "Why do aliens keep abducting naked earth women?"

4. "The Commuters," by Jack Gaughan. 4" x 6". Ca. 1961. Watercolor (I think) on paper.

Jack Gaughan was one of the premier science fiction artists in the 1960s. He began working in the field a decade earlier, contributing work to a variety of publications, but he really made a name for himself in the early Sixties as a cover artist for Ace paperbacks. He also contributed regularly to magazines such as Galaxy, where he served for a time as art director. Even as his professional career flourished -- he won numerous awards, including multiple Hugos (science fiction's highest honor) -- Gaughan never forgot his roots and continued to produce fan art for 'zines.

Me, I love Jack Gaughan's work. It's punchy, it's exciting, it's slightly abstract, it's full of energy and personality. It's also in high demand and generally costs more than I can afford to spend. This piece, though, is a preliminary sketch Gaughan did for a possible cover for Galaxy science fiction. It's not quite as "finished" as his final paintings, but it's still more detailed than many preliminaries by other artists.

It's a great, whimsical piece; as a New Yorker, how can I not love the idea of a subway car flying past the moon? Man, I want an office on the moon...

Stay tuned for part three, coming real soon!

A FINAL NOTE

Much of the biographical information contained in this post comes from the be-all and end-all of books about science fiction and fantasy artists, Science Fiction and Fantasy Artists of the Twentieth Century: A Biographical Dictionary, by Jane Frank. It's an exhaustive study of the subject with hundreds of in-depth entries about pretty much everyone who's ever produced any sort of art within the genre. Highly recommended!

A nice review: http://www.sfsite.com/08a/ar301.htm

Copies are available at both Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

And check out Jane Frank's online store, Worlds of Wonder (www.wow-art.com). She's been collecting and dealing science fiction art for decades and is tops in the field!

Original Science Fiction Artwork, Pt. 1

2010-06-09T03:51:00.009-04:00

While the bulk of my collection is made up of robots and ray guns, the truth is, I see myself as a science fiction collector. And one of the areas in which science fiction truly shines is its artwork. Over the years, I've managed to build a small collection of original sf paintings and illustrations. Most have been published, most are vintage, and all are by artists who've made a name for themselves within the field. Of course, none of that matters if I don't like the art itself. Because I don't buy much, I only go after the pieces that really move me. This generally means subjects that somehow capture science fiction's sense of wonder, its grandeur, its limitless potential. But a weird, bug-eyed monster doesn't hurt, either!

(Note: Parts 2 and 3 can be found here and here, respectively.)

1. "City on the Lake," by Eddie Jones. 11" x 6.5". 1972s. Gouache on artist's board.

Eddie Jones was a prolific and popular British painter who initially made a name for himself as a fan artist. Eventually he powered his way into the professional world by painting hundreds of covers for paperbacks and magazines during the 1960s -- including the wonderful line of Star Trek covers for books written by the legendary James Blish. Bold and colorful, his technique helped define science fiction artwork throughout the Sixties and Seventies.

Rumor has it that this piece was used as the cover for a German science fiction book, but no one's been able to prove it to me. Nor do I have any idea when it was painted. However, stylistically, it looks like something straight off the cover of a Fifties paperback -- but given the timeframe in which Jones did most of his work, I'm betting it's mid Sixties or thereabouts.

Eureka! Thanks to a wonderful email from Rog Peyton, Jones' agent in the 1980s, I now know that this was used for the cover of Die Zeit Der Katzenpfoten (Age of the Pussyfoot) by Frederik Pohl. It was published by Fischer Orbit in September, 1972.

Thanks for the info, Rog!

I bought this painting at the 2006 Worldcon Art Auction in Anaheim, California. It was my first Worldcon, and taking home this painting at the end capped off one of the most fun weeks I've ever had. Among the highlights (if you'll pardon a small tangent) were meeting Ray Bradbury and having him sign my first paperback edition of Fahrenheit 451; seeing the screen-used "hero" blaster from the movie Blade Runner (a prop thought lost until my friend Karl Tate discovered it at the convention); sitting in on lectures full of science fiction luminaries; and meeting and becoming good buddies with author and science fiction wag Jeff Berkwitz. (Hi, Jeff!) Fun stuff!

2. "Untitled," by Richard Powers. 15" x 11". Ca. 1970. Pencils and collage on board.

Richard Powers is the king of abstract science fiction art. He exploded onto the scene in the early Fifties when Ian Ballantine hired him to paint book covers for his then-new company, Ballantine Books. In Powers' hands, science fiction leapt beyond the rockets and aliens and space heroes that dominated covers during the days of pulp magazines. Instead, he created cerebral, abstracted, otherworldly illustrations that hinted at some vast, unexplored world -- kind of like science fiction itself. I absolutely love his work.

This piece originally appeared in 1976 as the frontispiece illustration for the Gregg Press edition of the anthology Modern Science Fiction, edited by the great Norman Spinrad. Powers drew all the elements of the art and then, working with the book's art director, pasted them down in an arrangement that worked best. (Powers did a lot of collage work over the decades, so this was nothing new for him.) Unfortunately, the glue used to paste down the different elements wasn't archival quality and ended up bleeding through in a couple places (the small brown spots). Nonetheless, it's a great example of Powers' black and white work, with creepy, biomechanical robots floating near strange outposts and alien structures. Wild!

Note the signature, which includes the word "Laz/Org." The Lazarus Organization was a fictitious group started by Powers, and he would often include this as part of his signature.

3. "Water For Mars," by H.W. MCauley. 9.5" x 6". Ca. 1951. Ink and pencil on board.

Harold William McCauley started as an illustrator for the Ziff-Davis chain, working on pulp mags like Amazing and Fantastic Adventures. He was known for painting great pin-up girls for science fiction magazine covers, including Imagination and Imaginative Tales in the 1950s. (Va-va-va-voom!) This piece proves that he could also do moody black and white illustrations as well as the next guy.

"Water For Mars" was published in the January, 1951 issue of Other Worlds, and illustrated a story of the same name by the author Stanley Mullen. The spots of bright white are correction fluid (or paint). McCauley used it to fix up the art knowing that when it was reproduced in the magazine, it wouldn't show up. I love these little bits that show it was actually used as a production piece.

4. "Unknown," by William E. Terry. 7" x 7". Ca. 1950s. Ink on board.

William Terry was another illustrator over at Ziff-Davis, and by the 1950s he had become the art editor for Imagination and Imaginative Tales magazines.

This piece was probably published in Imagination, though I haven't had the opportunity to really hunt for it. I love the idea of a kid in a small town approaching the gleaming rocket -- you just know that something great is about to happen! This optimism towards the future is such a hallmark of the 1950s, and 1950s science fiction in particular. It makes me smile, even if I'm cynical enough to know that we're much farther from that ideal than a mere 50 years... Still, illustrations like this remind me to keep hoping.

5. "Plague of Pythons," by Ralph Brillhart. 13" x 9". Ca. 1965. Gouache on artist's board.

Ralph Brillhart painted a number of abstract and surrealist science fiction covers throughout the Sixties, mostly for Monarch, but also Ballantine, Belmont, and Pyramid. Personally, I really like how his work contains so many elements of what we now think of as mid-century futuristic design. It makes for a fun vision of the far future -- except when it's offering up a disturbing look at alien worlds.

This painting was the first original paperback cover I ever bought. It was done for the first paperback edition of the book Plague of Pythons, by the great Fred Pohl (Ballantine, 1965). Not Pohl's best work, I'll admit, but a fun read and a great cover!

Something neat worth mentioning: When I removed the painting from its frame to take this photo, I also took a peak under the matte and this is what I found.

I love how this provides a peek into the way Brillhart worked. Note the sketch of the alien along the top edge, and the way in which the artist uses it to test out his compositional ideas. Really neat stuff.

That's all for now. Stay tuned for parts two and three!

A FINAL NOTE

Much of the biographical information contained in this post comes from the be-all and end-all of books about science fiction and fantasy artists, Science Fiction and Fantasy Artists of the Twentieth Century: A Biographical Dictionary, by Jane Frank. It's an exhaustive study of the subject with hundreds of in-depth entries about pretty much everyone who's ever produced any sort of art within the genre. Highly recommended!

A nice review: http://www.sfsite.com/08a/ar301.htm

Copies are available at both Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

And check out Jane Frank's online store, Worlds of Wonder (www.wow-art.com). She's been collecting and dealing science fiction art for decades and is tops in the field!

Space Toys on eBay: A (Third) Round Up of Ended Auctions

2010-06-08T22:18:00.000-04:00

As always, this is by no means an exhaustive survey of the space toys and robots available on eBay over the last few months. However, they are toys that caught my eye -- and made me catch my breath -- and I share them this evening for your amusement and edification. And also because I'm too lazy for a proper post...

So without further ado...

1. Space Rockets (Unknown, 1950s)

These nifty little toys, only six centimeters tall, are made in Germany. The astronaut is removable. I've not idea what they are, who made them, or any other details. But they're cool as all heck, and I wish I'd placed a bid on the little buggers!

2. Mighty Robot (Yoshiya, 1960s)

A rare cousin to the Chief Robot Man. This great toy features a transparent plastic, illuminated head with internal gears that rotate. A fantastic toy!

3. Silver Mechanized Robot (Nomura, 1957)

One of the rarest robots. This version preceded the more common black version, which can be read about here. Legend has it that when Nomura produced this toy, they only had black and white photos from the film Forbidden Planet and thought this character would be silver. When they realized their mistake, they switched to the more accurate black paint scheme. A funny little story, but I'm not so sure it's true. After all, salesman's prototypes -- which were the first versions of the toy produced -- are available in both silver and black. Whatever the reason, the silver Mechanized Robot is tough to get...

4. X-70 Robot (Nomura, 1960s)

More commonly known as the Tulip Robot because of its great action. First it walks forward with flashing lights in its neck. It then stops and its head opens like a flower to reveal a plastic TV camera. The whole thing -- camera, head pieces -- then rotates before closing up and repeating the cycle. A classic, and one of the best robots out there.

5. Moon Robot (Yonezawa, 1960s)

A nicer, more elegant version of Robby the Robot, this toy is commonly known as "Ribbon Robby" on account of the ribbons in his dome that rotate when he walks. One of my favorite toys.

6. Radar Robot (Nomura, 1960s)

A ridiculously rare toy, the Radar Robot is also known as Topolino, the Italian name for Mickey Mouse. He walks forward while the red squares in his chest light up to reveal a space scene. I'll be honest -- I don't really love this toy. I don't mind goofy looking robots -- and we all know I own a bunch of 'em! -- but this one is just a little too aesthetically disjointed. A lot of collectors will sell body parts to own it, but not me... They're welcome to him.

7. Lilliput Robot (Unknown, 1938)

The first robot ever produced, and one of my all-time favorites. Very rare, very beautiful, a classic toy and everything I love about these old robots. One day...

8. Mr. Atomic (Cragstan, 1964)

Another one that's near the top of my wish list. This was one of the first toys I fell in love with when I got into this hobby... but it's rare enough and pricey enough that it could end up being one of the last I add to my shelves. That's okay -- the hunt makes it worthwhile. In action, Mr. Atomic rolls around with bump and go action while a light flashed behind his domed head.

9. NY World's Fair Candy Pail (Up To Date Candy Manufacturing Company, 1939)

An unusual piece, rare in this condition. Only three and a half inches tall -- it's designed to hold candy, which you'd buy as a souvenir of the fair. A piece I'd love to add to my growing World's Fair collection.

Mr. Atom (The Advance Doll & Toy Co. / 1956 / U.S. / 18 inches)

2010-06-03T17:12:00.000-04:00

If the last post featured the smallest robot I own, this is by far the largest. Hulking in at 18 inches tall, Mr. Atom is a robot to be feared, a robot designed to stomp Barbie's dream house into tinder while little Suzie runs crying to mom. Awesome.

Not only is he one of the largest toy robots, Mr. Atom is by for the rarest of the three major plastic robots made by American companies in the 1950s. (The others are Marx's Electric Robot and Ideal's Robert the Robot.) Big and rare -- but fairly simple. Powered by three C batteries, Mr. Atom walks using a ratchet-wheel mechanism in his feet, and at the same time, his head turns side to side while his arms swing. Pushing the red button on his chest turns on a morse code buzzer while a bulb in his heads lights up. If you push the slider on Mr. Atom's chest to "Full Power," the buzzer and light activate while he's moving.

Sliding the switch adjusts how the toy operates. The button on the right activates the morse code.

Lots of detail molded into the plastic. The nut in the center holds the body halves together.

Early silver plastic tended to separate during mixing, leading to really cool, swirly patterns in old toys. The battery box is located under the flap in back.

Speaking of walking, I'm always amazed that this toy functions without falling over. He's got tiny, tiny feet! But Advance Doll & Toy knew what they were doing and designed this guy right. He trundles along just fine.

Tiny feet!

I've wanted this toy for many years, but every time it became available through dealers or eBay, it would either have broken parts or it wouldn't work properly. I thought I'd finally found one when I returned from Botstock recently. A collector was selling one, but by the time I found out, it was already spoken for. Then something happened and the toy came back on the market -- but again, I learned about it too late! I'd pretty much given up on getting my hands on a satisfactory example when all of a sudden I stumbled over one while searching eBay. Amazingly, I won it for about 40% less than I'd expected, proving once again that it patience always pays off when collecting.

You know, maybe it's me, but Mr. Atom looks like he stepped right out of a B grade science fiction flick. I keep expecting to look in the dome and see the stunt man hired to wear the robot costume. Anyhoo...

Things to look out for when shopping for a Mr. Atom: The eyes and dome are made out of thin plastic, similar to the "blister packaging" you'd find on an action figure. The pieces are often torn or missing entirely. Also, check the body for cracks -- the thin styrene snaps easily. Finally, check the toy to make sure it operates properly, and that the switch and morse code button do their respective things.

Wind Up Venus Robot (Yoshiya / 1969 / Japan / 5.5 inches)

2010-06-01T08:00:00.000-04:00

The Venus Robot isn't the most complicated robot ever made, but this diminutive little guy is still a favorite of mine.

The bright, solid color; the simple lines; the small bursts of graphics -- Venus Robot really is as much a design object as it is a toy. It's made of plastic with lithographed tin accents, and features a simple, key-wind walking mechanism.

One nice touch: Venus Robot uses a foot construction that creates an illusion of a heal-toe walking motion. The ratchet wheel system actually shuffles forward and back -- like that of many other robots -- but as it does so, it see-saws on a central axis inside the leg/foot housing. It's a great effect, one that's seen on other plastic Yoshiya robots (like the Battery Operated Jupiter Robot, which I wrote about here), as well as Nomura's Piston Action Robot (which can be found here).

Venus Robot was also available in the more common battery operated version, which featured a blue body with red arms and face. (I'll write about it somewhere down the road.) A company called Telsalda also produced wind up versions in silver, gold, and red. These are all significantly rarer than the original. (I'll write about these if I can ever manage to snag them. Grumble, grumble, grumble...)

The box for the wind up Venus Robot is much less common than that of the battery operated version. I've got no idea why.

I bought my Venus Robot from a dealer named Jay Brotter. No real story behind it, but I want to give a shout out to Jay because he's a great dealer and a heck of a nice guy. He runs a web site called Robot Island, and I've never had any complaints when dealing with him.

I'll admit, Venus Robot took a while to grow on me -- as did all of the Yoshiya plastics. I didn't like the plastic construction, I didn't like the red and black color scheme, I didn't like the tiny size. Now of course, those are all reasons I love the toy.

I'm always fascinated by the way my tastes in toy robots have developed over the years. I'd say at least 25% of my collection is made up of toys I actively disliked when I first started collecting. I'm not exactly sure what caused my tastes to broaden; I know that exposure to other people's collections certainly helped. I think that time played a big role, too -- if you see a toy enough times, you start to gain an appreciation for it, quirks and all.

The upshot, anyway, is that the amount of toys I wanted to own eventually doubled -- tripled? -- guaranteeing that I'll be collecting robots for a long, long time.

Sweet!

A Question for Collectors: How Important Is Rarity?

2010-05-31T12:46:00.000-04:00

I'm curious as to how all of you collectors feel about an object's rarity, and how much weight you put on rarity when considering whether to add something to your own collections.

A rare example of the Atomic Robot Man, with a stamp from the 1950 New York Science Fiction Conference on the back. (Read more about it here.)

Do you particularly like rare items? Do you seek out rare items? Would you (or do you) pay a premium for rare items? Does a boring item become cooler if you know it's rare? Do you have any stories about rare pieces you have (or have not) added to your own collections?

Those questions are just to get the ball rolling -- feel free to approach the overall question in whatever manner makes the most sense in relation to your own collections and collecting habits. Post your answers in the comments section, and please feel free to respond to other people's responses -- let's get a conversation going. (But be polite!)

I'll post my own answer to the question once everyone else has had a chance to speak.

World's Fair Greyhound Tram (Arcade / 1939 / U.S. / 8 inches)

2010-05-30T18:03:00.002-04:00

This one's for 1950s Atomic Ranch House, an excellent blogger -- with an excellent blog -- who likes to encourage my World's Fair addiction. Everyone check out her stuff!

If I had the opportunity, I'd love to visit the 1939 New York World's Fair. But since no one's invented a reliable time machine, I've instead decided to collect its memorabilia. And one of the best pieces in my small but growing collection is this die-cast metal tram made by Arcade.

Call 'em what you will: trams, people movers, trains, tuk-tuks -- whatever their name, I think they're great. Always have. There's just something fun about piling into the open-sided mini-buses and taking a tour through an amusement park or other weird tourist attraction. So of course, when I first saw one of these Arcade trams, I knew I had to have it.

It was last autumn at the big Morphy space toy auction in Adamstown, PA. I was exploring the shelves of toys, killing time, waiting for the robot I wanted to come up for bid, when I saw the World's Fair tram for the first time. I was blown away by the simple construction, the bold colors, the great Trylon and Perisphere logo. I knew I wanted one, but couldn't justify the expense. I only had one or two World's Fair items and this was a bit too far outside of my comfort zone.

But since then, I've picked up a number of interesting World's Fair knick-knacks, including a great squished penny that my girlfriend bought me for my birthday. (It'll be the subject of another post somewhere down the road). I decided that the time had come to add a really good, high-end anchor to the collection -- it was just the excuse I needed to get that tram!

The best part? I found mine on eBay for a fraction of Morphy's asking price. Score!

I have to admit, I don't know too much about this toy. I've seen one or two boxed examples, so I know it was sold with one front car and one passenger car. However, I've also seen an example -- loose -- with three passenger cars. I'm guessing it's legit and not something pieced together by a dealer or collector.

The main parts of the tram are made of painted, die-cast metal, while the awning is lithographed tin. The Trylon and Perisphere logo is a decal, while the words on the side of the front section are painted on. The wheels are rubber. The toy just rolls; there's no motorized mechanism. Fairly simple and straight forward, but that's part of why I like it so much.

So I can hear you asking: "What's so special about the 1939 World's Fair, Doc?" And I ask you, What's not special about this fair? First, there was one of its main themes: The World of Tomorrow. C'mon, if that doesn't have my name written all over it, I don't know what does! The World of Tomorrow!

And then there are the symbols of this bright, shiny future: The Trylon and Perisphere. Has there ever been such a perfect expression of optimism? Such geometric precision, like a city out of a science fiction story. The fact that the Trylon was also a radio tower, and the Perisphere held a giant theater, made them both even cooler!

In fact, the architecture throughout the '39 World's Fair was an explosion of deco and machine age forms and style. And inside those buildings... Oh man! Great displays by, among others, General Motors (with their Futurama exhibit), General Electric, AT&T, Ford, and Westinghouse -- the latter being home to the famous Westinghouse Robot! The fair marked the first appearance of color photography, nylon, air conditioning, fluorescent lighting, and... wait for it... View-Master! Everything about the World's Fair screamed "Buck Rogers is knocking! Let him in!" Just magnificent.

But there are other reasons I love this fair. It's in New York, and of course I've got soft spot for the the city. But more than that, it's got some interesting ties to science fiction. See, 1939 was an important year for science fiction, especially science fiction in NYC. Not only did fans have the World's Fair, which must have felt like traveling through time, but that year, the city hosted the first ever World Science Fiction Convention (a.k.a. Worldcon). That's huge!

On top of that, NYC had at least two significant fan organizations, including the legendary Futurians. John W. Campbell, Jr. had taken over Astounding Science Fiction two years earlier, and by 1939 had used it to thoroughly transform science fiction into something leaps and bounds ahead of the pulpy shenanigans of his forbearers. 1939 also saw the publication of the first two stories by Robert A. Heinlein, a man who would shape science fiction for decades to come. (Those two stories, by the way, were "Life-Line" and "Misfit.") To top it all off, Christmas of 1938 (leading into 1939) brought with it the sale of the first toy robot -- Lilliput -- and the fourth Buck Rogers gun, the XZ-38 Disintegrator.

So you can see why 1939 holds a special place in my heart, and why the World's Fair might be a fitting symbol of everything I'd love to see this world become. More posts on World's Fair memorabilia are definitely on the horizon.

Now, about that time machine...

Botstock VII: Vintage Space Toy Convention (Pt. 2)

2010-05-29T15:00:00.004-04:00

Every year, vintage space toy and robot collectors gather together for Botstock (click here for Part 1 of the Botstock Posts). This year's event was held at the Toy Robot Museum in Adamstown, PA. Adamstown, for those who don't regularly read this blog, is a haven for antique hunters, with dozens of stores lining the town's main strip. In my last post, I wrote about Botstock itself. This post gives the nitty-gritty, blow-by-blow account of my weekend's antiquing adventures. As always, the less obsessive might want to just skim this one...

I went down to Adamstown with three friends: Steve Jaspen, Karl Tate, and John Alvarez. We woke up early Saturday morning, raring to go, and decided to try an outdoor antique market called Shupp's Grove first. The place is usually picked clean by late morning, and the dealers often turn in early to beat the later-day heat. We ended up getting there by 8:30 or so, but sadly, didn't see too many interesting pieces. One toy that did stand out was the Electric Drive Marx Mobile riding car. It's a three-foot long, battery-powered, lithographed tin monster that was meant for kids to, well, ride on. Impressive, but also expensive... I passed, but not until I'd taken a few good pictures. (Thanks to Phil Marks, proprietor of Shupp's Grove booth T-17.)

The Marx Mobile! Kids would sit in the cockpit and put their feet up on the pars extending from either side of the toy. The whole thing ran on a lantern battery. Wow!

The cockpit. All those buttons actually did stuff, from turning on lights to making noise.

The last thing you see as this puppy goes tearing down the street...

We spent a little more time poking through Shupp's before finally calling it quits. We decided to move on to Morphy's Auction House, a usually reliable source for vintage toys. Turns out we weren't disappointed; Morphy's had a number of beautiful pieces, some rare, some fairly common. All were expensive, of course, but some were still within the acceptable, if high, end of the market. The belle of the ball for me was probably a dead-mint Strato Gun and its scarce box. I'll admit, I'd seen it before -- it's been sitting on the same shelf for years, and I'm pretty certain the seller is either going to have to remove the word "FIRM" from the toy's price tag, or else give up entirely and take the darn thing home for good. It's a great piece, but I can't see spending the money he wanted to get.

This Strato Gun has never been fired, according to the seller. The box is ultra rare. The toy's priced accordingly. Sigh. For more info on this gun, check out this previous post.

Other highlights at Morphy's included a rare, boxed Space Patrol watch and original, domed compass; a nice example of the relatively common Robby Tractor; a super clean, grey Cragstan Mr. Robot; and a really rare Nautilus Submarine toy from the Disney film 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. As if that wasn't enough, we also stumbled on a shelf full of drop dead gorgeous space banks. Unfortunately, they were part of an upcoming auction and weren't for sale before then.

The nicest example of a Space Patrol watch and compass set I've ever seen. Dig Buzz Corey on the box top!

This nifty little tractor was also available in blue.

I've only seen a couple boxed examples of this extremely uncommon Nautilus submarine. I love this toy...

Various rocket banks. These are all rarer variations on banks that otherwise pop up quite often. I've never seen so many banks offered at once, or in such nice condition. It should be one heck of an auction.

Speaking of auctions, Morphy's was having one as we entered the building. It was a broad assortment of items, and I found a few interesting space toys. Nothing I desperately needed to own, though, so I didn't bother registering to bid. A friend of mine named Bill -- who goes by the Alphadrome handle Tinman93 -- scored a beautiful Archer Rocket. I wish I'd thought to take some pictures...

While I didn't buy any toys at Morphy's, I did indulge another collection of mine: 1939 World's Fair memorabilia. I'd found a nice, enameled pin on one of the shelves for $23 and couldn't resist picking it up. Little did I know that I'd be establishing a trend that would last through the end of the weekend. (You'll have to wait a few paragraphs for pictures!)

After Morphy's, we headed to something I remember being called the Antique Co-Op. It's a ramshackle little building with two floors and dozens of cases full of all sorts of interesting stuff -- including one that was practically overflowing with World's Fair material. I quickly picked out a number of items I wanted, but I decided not to buy them until I'd done some more toy hunting. I knew that the World's Fair stuff wasn't going anywhere, and I wanted to keep my money in reserve in case something really good popped up. Not only were there a whole mess of other antique stores to explore, but a few dealers were scheduled to show up sometime that day and I wanted to be ready for them.

A nice woman at the Co-Op gave me the name of the dealer who owned the World's Fair case and suggested I try coming by on Sunday when he'd be around. She figured he might be willing to cut me a deal on the pieces that interested me -- music to my ears. I promised both her and myself that I'd swing back to pick up at least a small item or two.

Next up: Adam's Antiques, a large, sort of ugly, brick building that's chock full of cases, each one stuffed with everything you can imagine -- including toys. Unfortunately, pickings were slim -- let's face it, pickings are almost always slim when it comes to vintage robots and ray guns -- but we did finally uncover a few good pieces. Chief among these was a super mint Tom Corbett: Space Cadet tin clicker gun and a nearly pristine box. I was tempted by it, I'll admit, but the price was just a bit too high. Not an unfair price, don't get me wrong, but more than I wanted to spend. If I was going to drop that kind of cash, it was going to be for something I like more than that gun.

Sadly, Adam's Antiques is touchy about photographs, so you'll have to close your eyes and use your imaginations. I realize that many of this blog's readers have no idea whatsoever what a Tom Corbett: Space Cadet tin clicker gun looks like, but I trust you'll come up with something suitably insane.

There were a couple other places we wanted to hit after Adam's, but first we decided to phone Joe and see if any dealers had shown up. Nope. So we headed over to a place called the Mad Hatter.

The Mad Hatter is another antique mall, one I've had a lot of luck with in the past. My first time there, I picked up a beautiful, red Space Patrol smoke gun, as well as a stack of vintage, first edition science fiction paperbacks. I managed to get more books on my next trip -- but those would be my last. This time around, the supply of books had dried up. There weren't any space toys, either. However, I did find an amazing shelf of early to mid century Hallowe'en decorations and toys. I love these things... They've got nothing to do with anything I collect, but the colors, the imagery -- it's all just so cool!

Every day is Hallowe'en! (A gold star for anyone who gets that particular reference.)

John did find something that interested him, though, and I uncovered a neat World's Fair postcard set. We decided to come back on Sunday if our money held out. Given our luck so far, none of us thought we'd have trouble in that department.

After the Mad Hatter, we headed back to the Toy Robot Museum for a bit, and then decided to swing by the hotel to see if any dealers had shown up. We must have had a psychic moment or something, because we arrived just as a dealer and long-time collector named Jay Brotter rolled in. Jay owns an online store called Robot Island, and specializes in not only unusual vintage bots, but also modern and reproduction pieces.

Because Steve, Karl, John and I are all such nice guys, we quickly volunteered to help carry all the boxes of toys into his room. And because we were feeling especially generous, we even helped Jay unpack them. Because that's the kind of guys we are. I suppose we could have made the job even easier by calling some of our friends who were still hanging out at the museum but, well... why bother them, right? Right.

Of course, this meant we had first dibs on all of Jay's toys -- what a coincidence!

A big part of Botstock is what's known as room trading. Collectors bring whatever toys they're looking to prune from their collections, dealers show up with their stock of toys, and everyone wanders around seeing what they can get. In the past, we've had three or four dealers plus a number of other people all bring a huge variety of robots and space toys. This year, however, we learned that two dealers had fallen ill and a third just wasn't able to make it out. It looked like Jay was it, aside from a few small pieces that other collectors were putting up for grabs.

Luckily, I finally managed to pick up a robot from Jay. It's a small, wind up, plastic toy that bounces around like a jitterbug on crystal meth. It's not a rare toy, but I've always liked it and finally decided to pick one up. This version, with the red body and blue arms, was made by a company called Cragstan in the mid Sixties. A slightly earlier version, done all in red, was made by the Japanese company Aoki. Mine is actually paired (incorrectly) with the Aoki box. I don't mind -- it's much cooler than Cragstan's version, and I actually paid less than what other dealers seem to be asking for the toy these days. As far as I'm concerned, it's perfect.

My Cragstan/Aoki jiggle robot. Note the wheeling and dealing in the background.

Room trading. The bed is covered by a variety of both old and newer robots.

Some more toys, a mix of older and modern pieces. The orange robot you can sort of see in the top corner is a custom bot made by a collector.

We called it quits for the day after hanging out with Jay. It was time for our annual BBQ, which takes place behind the hotel anyway, so we all decided that it was time for beer and burgers. We also had a raffle that night -- I didn't win anything -- and then stayed up into the night watching old home movies from the Fifties that someone had brought along. Fun stuff. And then it was time to crash out for the night.

We were up early Sunday morning to see if any dealers would show up. There were a couple, but none had vintage toys. So after hanging out for an hour or so, Steve, John, Karl and I headed over to a giant indoor/outdoor antique mall called Renningers.

Some robots at a dealer's table.

There were a few toys, but once again, nothing too spectacular. We still spent more than an hour picking through people's cases -- even when there's nothing I want, I have fun seeing what's out there.

After Renningers, we decided to head back over to the Mad Hatter so John could pick up something he'd found. While there, I ended up snagging a package of mini-postcards from the '39 World's Fair. (Again, hold tight for pics!)

We hit a couple other random antique stores after that -- we mostly came up empty, though I did pick up a small Westinghouse Robot pin. The Westinghouse Robot was part of the Westinghouse display at the World's Fair. It was a giant, supposedly intelligent robot; in reality, it was controlled by an operator behind the scenes. I like the pin because it nicely bridges my World's Fair and Robot collections. Or something like that.

Finally, right before going to dinner, I returned to the Antique Co-Op to see if I could score some of those World's Fair items I'd looked at on Saturday. The dealer who owned the WF case -- Al -- was there, and he proved to be a real nice guy who was happy to swing a deal on prices. I had planned on buying maybe two pieces, but ended up walking away with five. I still ended up spending less than I'd originally budgeted.

The packet of 16 mini postcards that I bought at the Mad Hatter. These were also sold in a sort of pinkish-orange box; neither is more rare. I happen to be partial to blue.

Clockwise from top right: Westinghouse Robot pin, World's Fair pin from Morphy's, and round World's Fair pinback from the Antique Co-Op. Underneath them all is a World's Fair mirror that I also picked up at the Co-Op.

The enduring symbol of the 1939 World's Fair, the Trylon and Perisphere. I picked this thermometer at the Co-Op. Apparently it was nearly 70 degrees when I took this photo.

A fantastic movie viewer set, complete with three rolls of film. The viewer itself is made from bakelite. Check out the awesome deco box art!

The viewer and two boxes of film. The third strip is stored in the viewer itself.

And that was that. After the Co-Op we went out for a nice Italian dinner with the remaining Botstockers, and then it was time to head back home. Fewer toys than I'd have hoped to find, but I'm really happy with the few things I did manage to take home.

And the hunt continues...

Botstock VII: Vintage Space Toy Convention (Pt. 1)

2010-05-29T02:42:00.002-04:00

Warning: This is an epically long post. So epically long, I'm making it a two-parter. Feel free to skim or just check out the pictures. Anyone who wants to delve deeper into the Botstock experience, well, okay then. Read on...

Friday, May 14th. Time for Botstock, the annual vintage robot and space toy convention. I call it a convention, but it's really more of a get together, a gathering of like-minded toy geeks who enjoy nothing more than discussing the merits of pin-walking mechanisms, the scarcity of certain color variations, and whether Robby the Robot could take Lost In Space's B9 in a cage match. (The answer, of course, is yes.) Botstock is a chance to see rare toys, hunt for additions to our collections, and, most importantly, to hang out with friends from around the world who mostly only talk online.

This year's Botstock -- the seventh -- was being held at the Toy Robot Museum in Adamstown, PA. We'd been there three times before (Botstocks one, four, and five). The event moves around; besides the museum we'd also held it at the Robot Hut in Elk, Washington, and the Kane County Toy show outside of Chicago. Good times, for sure, but heading down to the museum felt a lot like returning to a home away from home. It's a comfortable place with lots to see and do, and the museum's curator, Joe Knedlhans, always goes out of his way to make sure everyone has a fun time. (I've written about the museum often enough -- check out entries here, here, and video here.)

The man...

The myth...

The legend! Ladies and gentlemen, owner and curator of the Toy Robot Museum, Joe Knedlhans!

Various robots from the Toy Robot Museum. I've posted about this place so often; check here and here for more pics and video.

Botstock began in 2003 when I decided to take my first trip down to the museum. I mentioned as much on Alphadrome, the online forum for vintage space toy collectors, and a member named Robert mentioned he'd be in the area and could meet me there. Joe Knedlhans than piped up that he could get the director of Unwound, a documentary about vintage tin robots, to come to the museum to sign copies of the film if other collectors wanted to make the trip, too. A bunch of Alphadromers decided to join us, and the next thing you know, we were having the first Alphadrome meet up.

That's when a collector named Darryl -- a.k.a. Robotnut -- posted a picture of a poster with the name Botstock. It stuck, and here we are today.

That first Botstock drew something like 10 people and lasted a single day. Since then, it's stretched to fill the whole weekend and we've had as many as 50 people show up (including wives, girlfriends, kids, and even a couple pets). We've had collectors from across the country and Canada, and even from Germany. It's really a fun opportunity to meet people who I've only previously spoken to online.

Unlike traditional conventions, which have scheduled panels and speakers and specific events, Botstocks are fairly loose -- especially when they're in Adamstown. Joe's museum serves as a meeting place and base of operations; it's a place to hang out and show off whatever toys we've found. Oh yeah, and Joe supplies lots and lots of booze. Free booze, freely flowing. And pinball. And Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots! And also booze, in case I didn't mention it. Ahem. Moving on...

In an effort to broaden the Botstock experience, Joe likes to clear some space in the museum for what we call "Special Exhibits," which are generally supplied by attendees. In the past, we've had some incredibly rare robots, lots of custom toys, an amazing collection of Buck Rogers memorabilia, and, from me, a small arsenal of space guns.

This year, I brought along four Dan Dare toys, plus a Marx Rex Mars Flashlight gun. The Dan Dare pieces were just something for other collectors to check out, and included a Dan Dare Cap Gun, the Dan Dare Cosmic Ray Gun, the Dan Dare Rocket Gun, and the rare Dan Dare Atomic Squirt Gun.

My various Dan Dare guns.

I brought the Rex Mars gun, however, to accompany a display of original Marx blueprints sent along by a collector named Mike (a.k.a. ToyMemories). He collects not only the blueprints, but also Marx prototypes, molds, test shots (the first items to come out of a mold in the early stages of toy development), sculpts, and whatever other unique pieces of toy history he can get his hands on. Every year, he lends a few of these out to Joe with the idea that other collectors will bring along the final production pieces. Besides the Rex Mars gun, we also had blueprints for a set of Marx Jumpies and a Space Target set, plus original molds for a set of Marx aliens. Truly rare treasures!

Rex Mars gun with partial blueprints.

Marx Jumpies. Push 'em down until the suction cup on the underside of their bodies attaches them to the table. After a few seconds, the spring legs will pull them free, launching them up into the air.

A beautiful Marx Flash Gordon water pistol and box.

Two custom built toys created by an Alphadrome member named Joe Markee.

An extremely rare Johilco Space Station. This British toy was uncovered at a local flea market and carefully restored by Alphadromer Phil Redman. Amazing.

I also brought one other item to Botstock: A Takara die-cast, missile-firing R2-D2 from 1978. Joe's museum has a case full of R2-D2 and C-3PO toys, and I knew he was missing this rare one. Through a small misadventure in collecting (ahem), I'd manage to pick up two of them. Rather than flip the extra on eBay, I decided to instead contribute it to the Toy Robot Museum. Joe's done so much for us collectors over the years -- and he's been such a good friend to me -- that I'm always trying to find ways to give something back to him. He seemed to appreciate the R2, and I felt really good about supporting the museum.

Every year, we try to give Botstock a theme, or at least a focus. This year, it was the Alphabot, which I previously posted about here. Based on the Alphadrome mascot, it's a custom creation by a collector and mad scientist named John Rigg. He made it out of aluminum and resin, and sold it in both pre-built and kit forms to members of Alphadrome. Eight Botstockers brought their robots to the convention this year and the whole group of toys was displayed in the museum -- a pretty impressive sight considering each one is custom built (with various tweaks to the design and colors) by either its owner or John Rigg himself.

Alphabots on display! Also, note the Buck Rogers U-235 Atomic Disintegrator pistol just hanging out on the bottom shelf. Because you just. Never. Know.

As an added bonus, John sent along the foam-core mock up of the Alphabot, along with the first motorized prototype, for inclusion in our annual raffle. I'll admit it, I had my heart set on winning the mock up, but nope, no luck. It went to a collector with a great collection named Perry. In fact, he managed to win both the mock up and the prototype! So while I'll admit I was bummed about not winning them myself, it was great to see the pair stay together. Enjoy them, Perry!

John Rigg's foam-core mock up of the Alphabot. Sigh.

Botstock's official accommodation is the Black Horse Inn. That's where we have our room trading and the Saturday evening BBQ, which takes place at a pavilion out back. We also hold our raffle there, and on Sunday, dealers set up shop under the pavilion. It's a nice enough hotel, and thought he decor can most kindly be described as "Mid-Seventies Roadside," the rooms are clean and the rates are low. Guests also receive free breakfast, and that means more money for toys. Nice!

Room trading! Alphadromers pick over a dealer's wares.

Score! I picked up this small, wind up robot. It's from the mid Sixties and was made originally by a company called Aoki, and then later sold in the States through the company Cragstan. This is the Cragstan version -- red body, blue arms -- though it's paired (incorrectly) with the Aoki box. Frankly, I like this version of the box better than the rather boring Cragstan version, so it's fine with me. It cost less than those offered by other dealers, so I can't complain about the price either! (This has to be the longest photo caption ever.)

The raffle table. So much stuff, including both of John Rigg's Alphabot prototypes; a custom creation by Joe Markee; a custom Botstock hoodie; and various toys, comics, and even Christmas ornaments.

More raffle prizes: In the front, one of Andy Hill's Andybots. (For more on Anybots -- and Andy Hill's custom robot company, Electro Art Works, check out this post here.) Joe Markee's robot is right behind it. Fantastic work!

Free, embroidered T-shirts for all the attendees compliments of an Alphadromer named Leon.

Another raffle item: Lithographed tin panels intended for use on a modern toy robot made by the company Metal House. Definitely a one-of-a-kind prize! Nope, I didn't win this one, either...

When we're not at the museum or the hotel, most of us spend our time roaming up and down Adamstown's main strip, which is lined with antique shops and malls. There's also Morphy's Auction House, which has a well-stocked consignment wing, and Schupp's Grove, an outdoor antique market that, in the past, provided some amazing finds. You'd think that having 30 or more collectors hitting all the same places would inspire some hefty competition, but the truth is, we're all shopping at different price points and for slightly different toys -- there's often enough to go around.

Yes, a majority of our time is spent picking through the antique shops. And no, we don't often find anything good. Prizes are out there, though, and we did stumble across some amazing toys -- as well as a lot of junk. For the complete blow-by-blow, check out Part II, coming shortly!

The weekend usually ends with a group dinner at either an Italian restaurant or a steak joint. It's a last chance to show off whatever we've found, commiserate over toys we didn't get, and generally eek every last bit of geekiness out of the time we've got left. About half way through my appetizer, I tend to get bummed out that the weekend is coming to an end. But at the same time, I also know that I'll return home reinvigorated and ready to jump back into the hobby.

I also begin counting down the days until the next Botstock... wherever it might be.

364... 363... 362...

Off To The Toy Robot Museum and Convention

2010-05-13T23:33:00.000-04:00

This weekend is the annual gathering of vintage space toy collectors: Botstock. It's our seventh year in a row getting together to geek out over vintage toys, and it's always a lot of fun.

This year, we'll be taking over the Toy Robot Museum in Adamstown, PA -- always an appropriate meeting spot for this type of convention, right? There'll also be swag-filled BBQs, raffles, and lots of antiquing and toy hunting. A good time all around.

Of course I'll be taking photos, so expect a full report next week. I'll also be posting some great interviews which for now will remain hush-hush. So while the last two weeks have been a bit light on the posts, I promise I'll be back in the swing of things when I get home.

Have a great weekend, and as always, happy collecting!

Died: Frank Frazetta (February 9, 1928 - May 10, 2010)

2010-05-10T22:03:00.002-04:00

Frank Frazetta died on April 10, 2010 from complications arising from a stroke. He was 82.

Something tells me Frazetta needs no introduction, but just in case you're unfamiliar with the man and his work, it's safe to say that he was the most important fantasy artist of all time. He also contributed to science fiction, though not nearly as much as I'd have liked... (Guess he didn't get my memo.)

John Carter of Mars artwork

Frazetta made a name for himself in the Fifties as a comics artist on everything from Westerns to crime stories to science fiction -- specifically, Buck Rogers. However, he became a sensation when he began painting covers for Ace Books' Conan titles in the mid Sixties. With his tight and bulging muscles, lanky hair, and simmering eyes, and wielding the mother of all giant swords, Frazetta's Conan became the Conan for the next 40 years.

Frazetta's first Conan cover, for Conan The Adventurer (Ace Books, 1966)

Buck Rogers (inked by Wally Wood!)

Buck and Wilma menaced by a... thing...

One ray gun beats eight tentacles every time!

Frazetta was also known for his cover art on the Tarzan and John Carter of Mars books; works for Ray Bradbury; and more sword-and-sorcery stories than I could ever possibly list. Frazetta contributed to Mad Magazine, painted movie posters, worked on numerous album covers, and collaborated with animator Ralph Bakshi on the film Fire and Ice. Books collecting his paintings have sold hundreds of thousands of copies, and recently, one of his Conan paintings sold for $1 million to Metallica guitarist Kirk Hammet.

Promo art for the original Battlestar Galactica TV series.

More early BSG promo art. If only the show really looked this good...

More John Carter of Mars artwork. (I believe... someone correct me if I'm wrong!)

Personally, I'm a huge fan of Frazetta's paintings. I'll probably never own one -- even his sketches go for thousands of dollars -- but I've often considered collecting the paperbacks he illustrated in the Sixties. It might be fun...

SP 560 Rocket Pencil Case (Unknown / 1950s / U.S. / 9.5 inches)

2010-05-06T00:29:00.002-04:00

Science fiction films in the 1950s relied on many tried and true tropes, but few thrill me today like the trusty rocket. Cigar-shaped, silver, sleek, it was a vehicle to adventure in such classic flicks as Destination Moon, Rocketship X-M, When World's Collide, and The Angry Red Planet. It's ubiquity was such that today it stands as an instantly recognizable icon of vintage science fiction.

While many toy rockets were produced in the Fifties and Sixties, few of them really captured the simple elegance of their cinematic counterparts. So you can imagine my thrill when I stumbled on this little number one evening while surfing eBay.

Made of light plastic and with a thin coating of chrome, the SP 560 looks exactly like a model from one of those old movies. It's designed to hold pencils inside the hollow body, and there's a pencil sharpener in the base. I can just imagine how much fun I'd have carrying this thing to school every day. I'm pretty sure I'd dump the pencils in my desk right away so that I could play with the rocket during recess.

I love the minimal details, like the "windows" running down the side.

Old-school pencil sharpener!

Unfortunately, I have no idea who produced this beauty, when it came out, or how common or rare it might really be. I've never seen one before, but I didn't have to pay very much for it. Some of the chrome is worn and thinning, and there are a few scratches here and there, but generally, it's in nice shape -- if it were rare, I'd have expected it to sell for a lot. So who knows?

Chromed plastic was relatively new in the 1950s, and it often became spotted and worn with time.

If anyone digs up any info, please post it in the comments or send me an email!

Battery Operated Planet Robot (Yoshiya / 1958 / Japan / 9 inches)

2010-04-30T12:59:00.000-04:00

The Planet Robot is another example in a long line of toys that draw upon Forbidden Planet's Robby the Robot for inspiration.

Forbidden Planet landed in theaters in 1956, a $2 million science-fiction adventure story that combined wonderful characters, thrilling action, a mysterious plot, lavish sets and props, and, of course, a robot that would go on to influence all future Hollywood robots, droids, and other assorted mechanical men: Robby.

In a pre-Star Wars world, toy licensing for films was relatively unheard of, and MGM, the film's studio, never bothered to produce any space ships, ray guns, action figures, or robots of their own. Happily for us, though, many companies rushed in to fill the void. They did so carefully, of course, in an effort to avoid a barrage of law suits. As a result, we have many different toy robots from the Fifties and Sixties that look a whole lot like Robby, but with many interesting tweaks that give each piece a distinct personality. (For some great examples, check out these past posts: Mechanized Robot, Piston Action Robot, Door Robot, Jupiter Robot, and this one on cinematic robots. Also check out Pat Karris' amazing collection of vintage Robby toys at mechanizedrobot.com.)

In action, the battery operated Planet Robot walks forward while its chest and face light up. At the same time, the vertical scanner ring on the left side of its dome rotates. All in all, not the most complex action ever created, but that doesn't make it any less cool to play with.

What's always most attracted me to this toy is the metallic blue litho. I've said it before and I'll keep on saying it until someone inscribes it in the Big Book of Truth: Metallic blue is the coolest color ever, and looks great on not only toy robots, but also ray guns, rockets, space cars, houses, and grandma's hair.

The Planet Robot is one of the longest -- maybe the longest -- produced robots in the hobby. Evidence suggests that it was on the shelves in one form or another from 1958 through at least 1972 -- and probably longer than that. Of course, it mutated quite a bit during that time, and as such, you can build entire sub collections of just Planet Robots.

Besides the version of the battery operated Planet featured in this post, there's also one with rubber, three-fingered hands that more closely mirror the hands on the original Robby the Robot. As far as we know, the toy was only available in blue.

The Planet Robot was also made with a wind up mechanism that features sparks in its chest and face plate. The wind up Planet Robot was offered with both rubber and tin hands. It came in a variety of colors, including black (most common), olive green, and blue (very rare). There might be a few others -- it's hard to keep track.

But the variations don't end there. Later versions of the wind up Planet Robot saw the introduction of slightly thinner legs, smaller "ear caps" and scanner rings, and flatter face grills. These differences are often rather subtle, and can sometimes only really be seen when two different versions of the toy are posed side by side. However, at the very end of it's run, the Planet Robot underwent one more significant transformation, as Yoshiya introduced a plastic head and plastic hands.

This later version was quite common for a while; rumors suggested that a warehouse full of the toys was discovered somewhere. I do know that at least one antique toy store in NYC -- now no longer with us -- was selling them mint-in-box well into the late Seventies. Regardless, the supply has dried up considerably, making even this last iteration of the Planet Robot kind of tricky to come by.

This Planet Robot is particularly important to me. I first saw it when I visited Steve Jaspen's collection early on in my own collecting career. Steve was the first collector to ever invite me to his house to see his toys; he's the first vintage space toy collector I'd ever met face to face. We've been friends ever since, and in the ensuing years, I've learned so much about the hobby from the man. I definitely consider him a mentor within the scene.

Steve's the kind of collector who is endlessly refining and focusing his collection; he doesn't have the most toys on the block, but he's definitely got some of the best. He's always selling or trading a piece here and a piece there, and the day that I visited him, one of the toys slated for eviction from his shelves was the battery operated Planet Robot. I was definitely interested in it, but Steve, being the nice guy that he is, actually turned me off of the sale. "You don't want this one. I bought it at the height of the market and I'm trying to get a lot for it. You can definitely find one for less money." Fair enough, and I dropped the subject.

A few months later I get an email. It's Steve, and he's reconsidered the Planet Robot sale. "It's never going to get what I originally paid for it, so if I have to let it go for cheap, I'd rather have it end up in your collection." About a week later, on a chilly, blustery day, I met Steve outside his Midtown office. It must have looked like some weird drug deal going down -- me handing him a thick wad of cash, him handing off a strangely wrapped package. But no one called the cops, and a little while later the robot was on my shelf.

That's why this is an important one for me. Not just because it's a robot I always loved, and not just because it came from the collection of a good friend. No, this toy's important to me because of what it represents. This hobby can be so cutthroat. I've seen collectors smile at each other while wheeling and dealing behind the scenes to screw each other out of toys. I've seen friendships dissolve over fights for toys. I've seen scams and I've seen what can only be described as outright criminality. All because of toys. Toys!

But at the same time, I've seen spectacular generosity. I've watched people step aside at auctions so that friends can get a toy they've always wanted. I've seen collectors lend each other extraordinary amounts of money so an important deal won't fall through. I've seen dealers sell toys to friends for zero profit. I've watched collectors give toys to other collectors because their friendships were so strong.

And that's the spirit behind my battery operated Planet Robot. It represents the friendship and camaraderie within the hobby -- friendships that, I hope, will last as long as the toys themselves.

Coming To You From A Galaxy Far, Far Away...

2010-04-27T02:04:00.001-04:00

When I started this blog, I made a promise to myself: No Star Wars toys. As much as I love 'em, they're not quite the kind of vintage toys I want to discuss. Besides, there are many other blogs and web sites devoted to the figures and they can do a much better job of it than I can. But now I'm going to break that earlier promise, just this one time. That's it. One post about some Star Wars toys that I've got and then I'm leaving them alone.

Those who don't care about any toys produced after the 1960s, you might want to avert you eyes.

First, a prologue. I grew up with Star Wars. I was born two years before the movie came out and while I missed it in 1977, I caught a re-release in the theater right before Empire Strikes Back came out. I saw that second film and Return of the Jedi upon their initial releases. Growing up, I had the action figures, I had the ships, I had the carrying cases, I had the toy blasters and early light sabers. I dressed as Luke for Halloween and trick-or-treated with a friend dressed as Vader. Generally speaking, I was geeked-out a Star Wars fan as any little kid with no autonomy over his life or source of regular income could hope to be.

But eventually, I kind of grew out of the toys, and like so much of the stuff I played with, they disappeared into the backs of closets and later were uncovered and given to the younger kids living next door.

Recently, however, nostalgia reared its mighty head and about two years ago, I slowly began revisiting some of my favorite Star Wars toys. At the same time, I discovered some vintage figures I never knew about when growing up, and that launched a whole new obsession.

These days, I've got two small Star Wars collections. The first is made up of the original 12 figures released in 1977. The second consists solely of vintage U.S. and Japanese R2-D2 toys. Neither is anything special compared to some Star Wars collections out there, but they weren't easy to put together, either, and I'm rather proud of them.

First up, the original 12 figures, all released in 1977: Luke Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Han Solo, Chewbacca, Princess Leia, R2-D2, C-3PO, Darth Vader, a Tusken Raider, a Storm Trooper, the Death Squad Commander, and a Jawa. They're displayed on a collector's stand that came out in 1977.

These were all about nostalgia and recapturing a piece of my childhood. My rules of acquisition were fairly simple: Figures had to be loose so I could display (and... ahem... play with) them, but otherwise, I wanted them to be as mint as possible. All accessories had to be original. I didn't worry too much about getting the rarest or earliest variations; instead, I went after the versions I remembered having as a kid. So my Luke has yellow hair, not brown. Obi-Wan has a white beard, not a grey one. And Han absolutely has a small head. (Fellow Star Wars collectors will know exactly what I'm talking about.)

The collection of R2-D2s was in many ways a much tougher -- and expensive -- collection to put together.

R2 was always my favorite action figure, and I knew I wanted to have the variations: the Power of the Force R2 with the pop-up light saber, the Droids Cartoon version (also with a pop-up light saber), the sensor scope R2, and the version of R2 that came with the Star Wars Droid Factory and features his center leg.

At the same time, I discovered the various R2s produced by the Japanese company Takara in 1978. Having never been to Japan, I'd never even heard of these toys when I was growing up. When I finally did discovered them, it was instant love. The toys are all intricately detailed, but not necessarily accurate -- which I think is great. I'm not a big fan of hyper-accurate toys; I don't think they leave as much room for imagination, whereas more abstracted toys are just waiting to be imprinted by the kid playing with them. (For instance, I think the Mego figures are way cooler than the McFarlane figures.) Takara's R2s also strike a perfect balance between the familiar -- "It's R2!" -- and the exotic -- "But he's kinda different looking!" -- that really appeals to me.

My collection of vintage Japanese R2s isn't quite complete, but it's close.

First, I've got the die-cast, missile-firing R2. True, the droid never had a missile launcher in the original movies, but who cares? Everything's cooler with a missile!

This toy came in two different boxes, and I was able to snag both of them. I like to keep the toy that came with the window box inside its box -- I just think it looks really cool. I also left the stickers on their sheet and the missiles on it's sprue. Luckily, the toy that came with the rarer black box already had its stickers applied and all missiles removed and ready to launch, so I can have my mint-in-box version and a version I can play with. Perfect!

I've also got the Film Strip Viewer R2.

It's also die-cast, but this version's larger than the missile-firing cousin. It features a bunch of slides depicting scenes from Star Wars that can be viewed by looking through a small, round window just underneath the droid's dome. Rotating the dome changes the image. And if that wasn't cool enough, this R2 also has a rear-mounted, flip-down double missile launcher. Again, every toy is cooler when armed to the teeth!

Next up is my rare, mint-on-card Zetca R2. This was made by Takara, and I think the word "Zetca" refers to the particular line, which, according to the promotional blurbs, was made out of a "space age metal." Nice!

I'm not normally the kind of guy who keeps his toys locked into their packages. However, I feel like this guy's survived for more than 30 years in a pristine state; I don't want to be the jerk who rips open the blister pack and ruins that. So in this case, I'm leaving things as they are. However... It also means that I'm looking for a second, loose Zetca R2. Call me crazy if you'd like; I call it having my cake and eating it, too.

I've got another bare-metal R2, the Takara Coin Holder. This was intended for vending machines in Japan, and I bought it with its original, plastic bubble. Incidentally, the only U.S. coins that fit in it are nickels.

Finally, the centerpiece of my collection, the coolest-among-the-weird of Japanese droids: the Takara Wind Up R2-D2.

This toy was originally produced in Japan, and legend has it that George Lucas was so enamored of the robot that he bought a case of them to give out to people connected with the film. He also suggested to Kenner -- who made all the figures in the U.S. -- that they produce the Wind Up R2. The company declined, but did produce a run of them in Canada. Because of all that, they're incredibly rare today, especially with both the front and back stickers.

I'm currently missing two other Takara R2-D2s: the bump-and-go, and the disk-firing versions. One day...

Besides the original 12 figures and the various R2s, I've also got some random, vintage droids and ephemera like pins and patches -- just stuff to flesh out the collection. I'm also thinking of picking up some of the more interesting aliens to come out during the first three movies, but those can wait.

R5-D4. One of my favorites. Without him, we'd never have Star Wars. His timely self-destruction opened the door for R2-D2 to hook up with Luke and, eventually, deliver the Death Star plans to the Rebel Alliance.

Anyway, that's my Star Wars collection, and this was my one and only Star Wars post. Hope you enjoyed it all. And for the fans of the real vintage stuff -- the tin robots and ray guns -- stay tuned, I've got some doozies coming up.

Ideal 3-Color Space Ray Gun (Ideal / 1952 / U.S. / 4 x 7 inches)

2010-04-24T19:17:00.000-04:00

I have a lot of memories tied up in this particular ray gun. It's one of the first that caught my eye after flipping through the book Ray Gun, by Eugene Metcalf, and I was completely taken by how well its giant, bulbous lens and funny fins captured the retro futurism I love so much. Looking back, I think it was at that moment that my love affair with vintage ray guns transformed from the infatuation of a beau for his belle into the outright obsession of a stalker.

Ray Gun was my only reference at the time, and as such, I considered every toy in it part of my "must-have" list. It was canon -- no pun intended -- and I was thrilled every time a piece leapt from its pages and on to my toy shelf. The 3-Color Gun was one of the first to do so, and as such, it holds a pretty special place in my collection.

This gun also represents the first time I met the collector and dealer Justin Pinchot face to face. We'd been speaking online for a while when I decided to take a trip out to sunny California to hang out. He promised to show me the sights, introduce me to a couple friends, and let me check out his collection. Justin also mentioned having some ray guns for sale if I was interested. If I was interested? What a question...

So I get to California and eventually, Justin gives me the tour of his collection. At the end, we stopped in front of a desk covered with ray guns. "These are what I've got for you," he said. I stared, unable to process what I was seeing. Five or six guns, almost all of which appeared prominently in the Metcalf book. What a haul!

Among them was the Renwal Planet Jet, a ridiculously rare toy that I knew I'd be taking home with me. Sitting next to it was a pristine Strato Gun. There was also a small, pressed tin clicker made by a company called Tomy. A Pez gun in classic, fire-engine red was next. And then... the 3-Color gun!

I couldn't afford all of them -- heck, the Planet Jet alone knocked out a large chunk of my toy-buying budget. I could grab one more, and I decided to go with the 3-Color gun. I'd never seen one for sale before, and I'd been lusting after it for so long... It wasn't a difficult decision!

However, it turned out to be the wrong decision. Kind of. I was tempted by the Strato Gun, but passed because, at the time, it was popping up on eBay regularly. I figured I'd get one somewhere down the road. Unfortunately, the supply soon dried up and prices pretty much quadrupled. The 3-Color gun, on the other hand, turned out to be more common than I thought. Whoops! (Read more about this sordid tale here!)

Nonetheless, I don't regret buying the Ideal gun. It remains one of my favorite toys, and the memories make me smile every time I pick it up. Which, I've gotta say, is often.

Like I said, the toy appears on eBay fairly often, and is available in two standard color variations: A red body with a blue trigger, switch, fin assembly, and lens housing; and a blue body with a red trigger, switch, fin assembly, and lens housing. Every once in a while, blue triggers will appear with blue bodies, etc. There's also a much rarer variation -- I've only seen one -- with a black body and red trigger, switch, fin assembly, and lens housing. This matches the toy as depicted on its box, so there's some thought that it might be a salesman's sample. I had a chance to buy it, but I passed. I feel kind of dumb about that today, but I just didn't have the scratch back then to make it happen. Oh well.

Pacer Electric Watch (Hamilton Watch Company / 1957 / U.S.)

2010-04-20T03:11:00.002-04:00

What time is it? Why, it's time for yesterday's tomorrow -- today!

This is the Pacer, and it's one of the earliest Hamilton Electric Watches. Which makes it one of the earliest electric watches in the world.

I've wanted a Pacer for many years; it was one of those dream pieces that would keep me awake at night and set me crawling desperately through eBay listings. I first saw one -- along with many other amazing Hamiltons -- at the home of collector Justin Pinchot. I couldn't get over the asymmetric case, the triangular hands, the arrows on the dial, and that amazing, two-tone finish. (It's hard to tell from my photos, but the case is yellow-gold colored and the lugs -- where the strap meets the case -- are white-gold colored.) This is a watch that screams "The Future!" Of course I wanted one of my own.

Please excuse the less-than-perfect pics. I'm still figuring out how to shoot this shiny puppy.

The watch has some serious history. I'll give you the short version of the story, but if you want the whole thing, I highly recommend checking out the book The Watch of the Future, by Rene Rondeau. You can find it -- and tons of information, plus watches for sale -- at Rondeau's web site: www.rondeau.net.

Anyway, in the 1950s, Hamilton was a respected watchmaker at a time when watch sales were sagging. They'd been making mechanical watches and clocks since 1892, but times were changing; the company needed to change too if it was going to survive and thrive in the latter half of the 20th century. So they struck upon a bold idea: make an electric watch.

Thus began years of research and development, trial and error, failure and... success! On January 3, 1957, the company released the Ventura, the world's first commercially available electric watch. Its futuristic design -- by Richard Arbib -- and revolutionary electric guts proved wildly successful, but a hefty $200 price tag kept many potential buyers at bay. So on November 1 of that same year, Hamilton produced the $125 Pacer. Even though it was essentially a stripped down version of the Ventura, it went on to sell more than 39,000 units over its 12-year run.

Today, Pacers are tough to score, especially in nice shape. They're popular with collectors, and clean examples get snatched up quickly. I spent years searching for an affordable example, but eventually I threw in the towel and resigned myself to using cell phones as time pieces for rest of my days.

Fast forward to last night. My birthday had come and gone a couple weeks earlier. My dad was out of town at the time, so he decided to take me and my little sister out to a celebratory -- albeit late -- dinner. And then there was their gift. I'm not big on gifts, and I'd have been perfectly happy with a nice meal. But for weeks, my sister had been dropping hints about something great she'd gotten me, something that hadn't arrived on time for my actual birthday. They planned on giving it to me at dinner.

My sister had been good about keeping the present a secret, but I'd still come up with a couple ideas about what it might be. I decided not to bother guessing, though. Why ruin it, right? Anyway, it turns out I'd haver never guessed right. I wouldn't have even come close. It turns out that my sister and dad got me... yep, you guessed it, a Hamilton Electric Pacer.

Yes, I was speechless. Yes, my flabber was gasted.

It turns out that my sister and dad originally wanted to get me a robot or a ray gun, but they were quickly thwarted in their efforts by not knowing what I had, not knowing what I liked, and not having any idea what anything might be worth. Clearly, it could have been a disaster.

So my quick-witted sister decided to find some help. She trawled through my blog -- this very blog that you're reading now -- and ended up contacting contributor Karl Tate and legendary collector Pat Karris. She also spoke to my girlfriend, who I'd say knows me pretty darn well. Everyone gave her useful advice, but she was still floundering a bit. And then she stumbled on Justin Pinchot. That's when it all came together.

After exchanging something like 30 emails, they hit on the idea of getting me the Hamilton. Justin knew it was something I'd lusted over for a long time -- remember, he'd shown me the one that got this ball rolling in the first place -- and also knew it wasn't something I'd likely buy for myself. With his help, my sister was able to procure a nice example, which she then sent off to Rene Rondeau for a tune up. A couple weeks later, it was back in her hands and ready for the birthday boy. (That'd be me...)

Needless to say, the gift was a success, and I'm immensely grateful to my sister, my dad, and all the friends who worked to get the Pacer into my collection. Thanks guys!

Domed Easel Back Robot (Linemar / 1950s / Japan / 6 inches)

2010-04-16T01:23:00.000-04:00

I remember the day well. I hadn't been collecting vintage robots and ray guns for too long when I got an email from my friend and fellow collector Justin Pinchot. All it said was, "Hey, what's this?" Attached were a couple photos: The first was a super-close up of some fancy lithography, the second was a partial shot of what looked like a dome of some sort.

I knew exactly what it was, and my heart began beating a little bit faster. See, a few weeks earlier, I'd mentioned to Justin -- who's also a dealer -- that one of the robots at the top of my want list was the Domed Easel Back. I never thought I'd get one, though, because it's a high-end piece that generally costs oodles of dollars. I definitely don't have oodles of dollars today, and at the time, I didn't even have half an oodle to my name. The Domed Easel Back was clearly out of my league; I don't think I could even afford the fantasy of owning one.

And yet there I was, one bright morning, looking at pictures of what could only be the object of my desire. Coming from Justin, it meant one thing: He had one for me, a fact he soon confirmed when I called him up and pressed for details. Things got a little dizzy after that, details remain fuzzy, I don't think I passed out, but honestly, I wouldn't guarantee anything.

Amazingly, the price was more reasonable than I'd have imagined -- for a reason, which I'll get into later -- and I had no problem paying for the toy. A week or so after that first email, I was the proud owner of a dream piece, one of those robots that I'd drooled over since first seeing it in the Sotheby's Matt Wyse catalogue.

So why all the love? For one thing, it's such a fantastic looking toy with some of the finest lithography ever reproduced on tin. And that helmet! What kind of robot needs a domed helmet? It's not like they breathe oxygen -- or anything else, for that matter. But it looks great, no doubt about it.

The Domed Easel Back Robot also has a great action. When the button on its remote is pressed, the toy walks forward with a "step-over" motion. That is, it raises and lowers its feet like a real person. Amazing! Astounding! Astonishing!

Also, for a small tin toy made during the 1950s, technologically impossible. And yet there it is, walking its way into toy collectors' hearts. Maybe it's magic?

Nope. The robot performs its feat of physicality thanks to that weird contraption attached to its back. You know, the one that looks like a... wait for it... easel? Yep, it's a wire frame that's designed to keep the robot upright every time it raises one of its feet. Not the most elegant solution: I suspect that the designers came up with the general walking mechanism and only later realized how precarious the toy was. They jerry-rigged a solution by attaching the easel, it all seemed to work, and voila, a strange toy was born.

Strange and popular, I should add. The Easel Back went through four iterations over the next few years. One other was battery powered, while two versions of the toy use a wind up mechanism. Only one of the four has a dome, though, and it's by far the rarest of the bunch -- especially in good condition, and especially with it's dome intact.

Which is, of course, why mine was reasonably priced: The dome is fake. They were made out of very, very thin plastic, not unlike what you'd find holding action figures on to their cards. Consequently, they tore easily and often fell off the robot. Good reproductions are difficult to make (requiring a vacuum forming machine), so someone kind of faked it on mine. It's not terrible, but it's definitely not correct.

Not that I mind. The toy itself is in amazing condition, and the roughly repro'd dome is good enough to give a strong impression of what the toy is supposed to look like. Owning it is absolutely a dream come true. The Domed Easel Back remains today one of my all time favorite robots, and one of the true prizes of my collection.

Doctor Who Season Premier Live Event

2010-04-14T22:04:00.004-04:00

Always when I've got prior plans!

BBC America sponsored a free, early screening of the Doctor Who season premier at a local movie theater this evening. On hand to discuss the show were members of the cast, including the new Doctor, Matt Smith, and some of the creative team. Did I mention I had prior plans? Well, I did. So I couldn't attend. I could, however, spend some time chatting with a few of the fans who lined up around the block to get one of the 300 or so available seats.

For the rest of us, the new season of Doctor Who, starring Matt Smith, airs on BBC America on April 17 at 9 p.m.

If you'd like more information on Doctor Who fandom in New York City, check out www.dwny.org.

1. Tim Grogan and Anthony Burdge

Matt Smith is going to be here tonight. What do you think of the new Doctor?
TIM He's amazing. I think he's reminiscent of the earlier Doctors, and does a great job of drawing on their personalities. It's a nice bridge between the new series and classic Who.
ANTHONY He's really conveying the idea of an old man in a young man's body.
TIM New blood is always good for the series.

Matt Smith as the new Doctor.

Do you have a favorite Doctor?
ANTHONY I like to say my favorite Doctor is the one I'm watching currently!
[Anthony Burdge is an editor of the book The Mythological Dimensions of Doctor Who, which is available through Kitsune Books, www.kitsunebooks.com]

2. Jody Harkavy

How do you feel about these types of fan events?
I think they shold be done more often! It's nice to get these out of the conventions and into new places. If they want to make the show as mainstream as possible, they need to create this kind of publicity. Doctor Who isn't just science fiction, it crosses so many lines and can appeal to so many people. Get it out there!

3. Jared and Matt

You said you've only been a fan of Doctor Who for a short while. What brought you to this event?
JARED It's a fresh start, a chance to get into the new season. Plus, I can see the Doctor in person, which is cool. I figured it'd be a good way to get things going.
MATT I'm really looking forward to hearing the Q&A with Matt Smith. I don't think I'll be asking any questions, but it'll be interesting to hear what some of the more experienced fans ask him.
JARED Plus, our cable provider in New Jersey doesn't carry BBC America.

What took you so long to get into Doctor Who?
JARED I caught some of the shows on PBS when I was younger, but I just never really had a chance to watch it.
MATT I had a misconception that it was cheesy science fiction with bad makeup and costumes. Then I started watching it and realized it was great. Now I'm a fan.

4. Chris

You said you've been a fan since the mid Seventies. How does Matt Smith hold up as the new Doctor?
Let's put it this way: "Tennant who?"

That good, huh?
Every actor brings something new and special to the Doctor. I loved Tennant, but I think Smith is even better. Tennant thought the Doctor was crazy, but Smith knows he is.

What do you think of this screening event?
It's great, there needs to be more of them. There's a huge fanbase out there, people who love the show, who're willing to spend $25 on action figures, who will go to these types of events. You couldn't have pulled this off in the Seventies.

5. Su Walenta and James Ottaviano

You seem to be having fun!
SU Of course! I live nearby, this is practically my front yard. I'm a Doctor Who fan from way back, before most Americans knew what the show was, and if the Doctor is coming to my front yard, I'm going to meet him!

How did you become a fan so early on?
SU My ex-husband was British and I discovered the show living in the U.K.

What do you think about the way the fan community has grown with the new series?
SU I'm a little torn. I love seeing all this enthusiasm, and it means the show will continue to air for a long time. It's great seeing so many younger people getting into Doctor Who. But I miss it being a smaller, more tightly-knit community sometimes -- it was like a secret we all shared. But overall, it's wonderful!

I see you have a pretty impressive sonic screwdriver from the Tom Baker years. Where'd you get it?
SU My sweetie made it for me!

You must be Su's sweetie. Tell me about the sonic screwdriver.
JAMES About a year ago, Su took me to a party where I met a friend of her's who was into Doctor Who. That was my first exposure. Then, about four months ago, I saw the Doctor Who Christmas episode online. Su asked me to download more episodes, and I got to really know the series. I'm a machinist, and Su asked if I could make the Tom Baker sonic screwdriver. It didn't look too tough, so I found as many photos as I could and built it.

They're great!
JAMES It's all machined metal. I'm finishing one from David Tennant's Doctor, too. It'll have all the glass and lights when I'm done. It's been fun -- I feel like I get to be part of the adventure.
[For more information on James Ottaviano's hand-made sonic screwdrivers, check out www.bohemianalchemist.com.]

A fan named Ryan models the Tennant-era sonic screwdriver.

Crowds on line!

Where the magic happened.

New Blog Features

2010-04-13T01:20:00.000-04:00

Just a heads up: In an effort to improve this blog's usefulness, I've added size information, as well as country of origin, to the subject line of each toy's entry. I hope this small tweak helps out my fellow collectors.

Personal to John: Now you can stop bitching about it! Ha!

Head Meets Wall. Repeat.

2010-04-12T00:01:00.000-04:00

Collectors! Have you ever accidently broken something in your collection? Maybe it was a major act of destruction, or perhaps only a minor nick, but nonetheless...

It's happened to me a couple times. Once, a few years ago, I went to pick up a toy robot and lightly -- I mean lightly -- brushed a small plastic antenna with the back of my finger. It snapped off, leaving me standing there, immobile, unable to think, relying on reflex to even breath, feeling my heart beat 100 times harder and my blood turn into a cold, slushy mess in my veins.

I lucked out that day, the break was clean and close to where the antenna met the rest of the robot. I was able to carefully glue it back into place and now, unless you know where to look, you can't even tell it was damaged.

Of course, I know exactly where to look. And I sometimes feel like my eyes are constantly drawn to that damn antenna every time I glance at my collection.

Usually, something like that might kill a toy for me, but when it's old or hard to find, I can suck it up and get over it. For the most part, anyway. But when it's a more modern toy, one that's easier to replace? I can't deal with it at all. I'll see the damage and think about the damage and turn it over and over in my mind until I kind of freak out. All that's left is to replace the thing.

Which sort of stinks, 'cause there's nothing fun about buying a toy again. That's money that could have gone to something new! But no one ever said toy collecting was a rational endeavor.

What about you, gang? Ever break anything even moderately significant? Did you keep it? Fix it? Replace it? Flip out and give up the hobby entirely? Enquiring minds want to know.

Classic Collections: Henk I. Gosses' Home Movie

2010-04-10T01:00:00.001-04:00

Even before he passed away, Henk I. Gosses was a legend in his own time. He was a man whose love of robots drove him to amass one of the best collections ever; he was also an artist, one who could -- and did -- build pretty much anything that popped into his head, from toys to advanced, animatronic sculptures. He was known for his wily and mischievous sense of humor, but also his kindness towards newbies just getting into the hobby. Henk's passing left a hole in the community that can't easily be filled.

A few years before he died, Henk had given a home movie to Joe Knedlhans, curator of the Toy Robot Museum in Adamstown, PA. It features a virtual walk through Henk's toy collection, which included both the ultra rare -- such as the Diamond Planet and Jupiter Robots -- and some of the more common playthings. The tape also included footage, narrated by Henk, showing off his various artistic and commercial projects. It ends with a bizarre bit of one-man theater. (Remember Henk's sense of humor...?)

When Henk died, Joe felt that the film would make a fitting tribute to his friend, and he decided to give away copies at that year's Botstock (a convention for toy robot collectors). He asked me to transfer the footage from VHS to DVD, and maybe do what I could to clean it up a bit. I did my best (darn VHS quality footage!) and added a little music and some subtitles to help cover various audio issues. I also cut together an opening title sequence, something to give the film a more solid beginning.

Now, with Joe's permission, I've uploaded the footage -- in three parts -- to YouTube for other collectors to enjoy. Parts 1 and 2 contain the tour, while Part 3 features Henk's art. I apologize for the quality of the footage -- like I said, it was shot years ago on VHS. Nonetheless, I think it's a great peek into a small part of Henk's life, one that hopefully conveys even a little bit of what made him so important to so many people.

Enjoy!

Space Pilot Nuclear Missile Gun (Merit / U.K. / 1950s / 6 x 9 inches)

2010-04-09T01:48:00.006-04:00

It's sometimes hard to believe that these toys were made for children. Take, for instance, the Space Pilot Nuclear Missile Gun, which has a handle suitable for any adult hand. It's like they anticipated the collector market; either that, or whoever owned Merit saw in this gun an opportunity to live out his own space adventure fantasies. And who can blame him?

The Space Pilot Nuclear Missile Gun is really an insane concept. Consider it: A pistol that fired some sort of nuclear missile! It's yet another example of the awesome mixed signals -- "Fun toys fire nuclear missiles!" -- that popped from the collective mind of a civilization living at the dawn of the atomic age.

Regardless, this British toy is fantastic. The wonderful, fluid lines; the shiny silver plastic; the dials; the compass. I tell ya, every space gun should have a compass. Every space toy should have a compass. "Hey, see that space compass over there, the one you wear on your wrist? It'd be even cooler if had a tiny compass attached to it." I love compasses.

The Space Pilot Nuclear Missile Gun was loosely designed around the mechanism found previously in both the Space Patrol and Dan Dare Rocket Guns. It's similar in size and fires the same type of darts.

Both dials turn. The green one is an "Interplanetary Selector," with settings for Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. The red one is the "Velocity Control," and ranges from 1,000 to 14,000. Yes, yes, they're just free-spinning knobs that don't control anything, but it's fun to imagine sending a nuclear missile screaming towards Saturn at a velocity of 14,000... um... somethings. On the other hand, am I the only one who's disturbed that the gun has an Earth setting?

As far as I know, the only variations have to do with the knob and cap colors; besides red and green, I've also seen blue. No color is scarcer than any other.

This is a pretty rare gun, especially in complete condition. It's almost always missing the little cap on the back, as well as that compass. The knobs can fall out, too. Despite the toy's scarcity, I recommend holding out for as complete an example as possible -- they do show up, all you need is patience.

Bell-Barreled Space Clicker Gun (Unknown / 1950s / U.S. / 4.5 x 6 inches)

2010-04-08T00:42:00.007-04:00

First, apologies all around for not posting over these last couple weeks. It's been a busy time, but I'm back and rarin' to go!

Today we've got one of the many space guns whose names are, alas, lost in the mists of time. "Bell-Barreled" is more of a description than an actual appellation, something to help the gun stand out amidst what I'm sure will one day be hordes of simply named "Space Guns." Still and all, she's quite the doozy!

I really love candy-colored guns. There's a whimsical ridiculousness to their design, an innocence that belies the weapons' intent. Many early guns were produced in these colors -- in case you haven't already noticed -- in part because these were the shade of plastic that manufacturers had on hand. Remember, before making space guns, most of these companies (Renwal, Park, Palmer, Pyro, Marx, and all the rest) were making more common toys for children. Bright colors equal fun. It wasn't until science fiction proved itself as a marketable genre that a lot of these companies switched to metallic plastics. (Some were doing so by the early Fifties, but most silver, bronze, or gold guns don't seem to show up until midway through the decade, at least.)

This particular ray gun doesn't do a whole heck of a lot. It clicks -- because they pretty much all click -- and it has a neat "whoosh" whistle in the back that you can blow to make a siren sound. Perfect for calling in reinforcements when you realize that those rampaging aliens aren't dropping dead no matter how madly you click the trigger. (Hopefully your buddies will be armed with something a bit more effective, though the truth is, they'll probably show up with water guns!)

Even though I don't know much -- okay, anything -- about this toy, I feel pretty confident with the 1950s date. Besides the colors, which were used a lot during the period, there's also the really thin, really cheap plastic. Nothing feels quite like early styrene, and even by the Sixties, quality was markedly improved. Lastly, there's the complete lack of markings, including country of origin. Most space guns from the Sixties were manufactured in Hong Kong, and are clearly marked as such. American guns from the Fifties, on the other hand, often weren't marked with anything.

Of course, this is all speculation -- for all I know, this one was made in the Eighties. (Though I seriously doubt it.) Regardless, it's a great space gun with bright, fun colors and a nifty shape that's ready for action.

For Sale the the Highest Bidder: The History of Space

2010-03-22T00:35:00.011-04:00

For anyone interested in our various, early sojourns up into the deep, dark sky, check out the online auction catalogue for Bonham's Space History Sale. It features letters and autographs from astronauts and other luminaries; models of early space craft (!); blueprints and technical drawings; and tons of promotional artwork and photographs. There are even -- hold on to your hats -- pieces of equipment from the various ships and missions that were part of the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo missions. Yes, you can own really cool, historic stuff that went into space.

All artwork via Bonham's

You know, I love space toys, but I also love memorabilia from the days of the actual space race. It was a time when fantasy was transformed into reality, when people moved from ray guns and flying saucers to approach vectors and landing procedures for visiting the moon.

The moon!

An amazing auction. Now, I'm sorry, I'm getting a little choked up...

Common Toys, Rare Boxes: I'm Baffled

2010-03-20T19:04:00.003-04:00

This isn't what you're thinking: I know that vintage boxes are rarer than the toys they held. Cheap cardboard can't stand up to the ravages of time like sturdy plastic, tin, and steel. On top of that, most kids just tossed the boxes with absolutely no thought whatsoever for the feelings of future collectors.

Little bast--! Ahem. That is to say, "Little dickens!"

No, what I'm really thinking about is how the ratio of relatively common ray guns to their boxes is much different than the ratio of relatively common robots to their boxes. That is to say, of the common robots that appear on eBay, many have their boxes. Whereas, of the common ray guns that appear on eBay, very few of them have their boxes.

Case in point: Chief Robot Man. Not too uncommon a robot, and with a box that I see more than a few times every year. Same goes for the W robot, the Battery Operated Planet Robot, the Battery Operated High-Wheel Robot, the wind up Easel Back Robot, and the little, red Yoshiya Jupiter Robot. If you decide to only buy these toys if they're mint in box, you won't have too much trouble, or spend too much extra money.

Conversely, the Buck Rogers XZ-31 Rocket Pistol, a toy that is always available -- always -- almost never has its box. Same goes for the Hubley Atomic Disintegrator, the Wyandotte ray gun, the Ideal 3 Color Gun... The list goes on and on.

I don't know -- is it my imagination? Am I just dreaming? I haven't conducted a proper investigation, and to tell you the truth, I don't plan on rolling up my sleeves and really digging into the problem. It's a mystery of the hobby, I guess.

Anyone have any thoughts on the matter?

Great Space Toy Blog: Moonbase Central

2010-03-17T11:49:00.004-04:00

I was recently hipped to a blog called Moonbase Central (projectswordtoys.blogspot.com), which focuses on old Project Sword toys, as well as a wide variety of vintage, (mostly) plastic space toys from (mostly) the U.K., Hong Kong, the U.S., and Canada. It's a great site with tons of information and wonderful photos. I've only spent about 40 minutes looking through it so far, and I've already found answers to a number of long-standing questions I've had about toys in my own collection (or toys I've thought about buying). Now that's a good blog!

Logo via Moonbase Central

Moonbase Central also features articles on related space-age toys, books, magazine articles, and ephemera, as well as actual Gemini/Apollo era goings on within the real space community. It provides some nice context for the toys and helps paint a picture of what was happening in society and pop culture as these toys were being produced.

For those who don't know, Project Sword was a British series of toys produced in the late Sixties by Century 21 Merchandising (connected with Gerry Anderson's Century 21 Productions), as well as a series of comic strips and text stories, and various other related items. Similar toys were also produced by a bunch of companies out of Hong Kong -- including a couple toys that remain popular among collectors who have never even heard of Project Sword. (Like... ahem... myself, until fairly recently. Hey, I'm young, cut me some slack!)

Strato Gun (Futuristic Products Co. / 1953 / U.S. / 4 x 8.5 inches)

2010-03-16T00:51:00.007-04:00

I think what I love most about the Strato Gun is that it really looks like the prop from some great, old science fiction adventure flick. It's fancifully futuristic, but at the same time, it kind of looks like it means business. If your business is blasting BEMs from Betelgeuse.

The Strato Gun is made from chrome-plated, die-cast metal, and it has a pleasing, solid heft -- even in an adult's hand. The toy fires rolls of caps, a simple enough ammunition used by not only junior spacemen, but also junior cowboys, junior pirates, junior cops, and junior soldiers. If you were armed and underage in the Fifties and Sixties, you were probably packing a cap gun.

The body and barrel of the gun flip upwards, revealing the cap mechanism just above the handle.

The toy was originally available in both chrome and matte finishes. (There's also a plastic Dan Dare water pistol made in the U.K. that borrows heavily from the Strato Gun's design.) The chrome version comes up most often, which I think is pretty good since I like it more than its (literally) duller brother.

This ray gun and I go back quite a ways. See, when I first started collecting, Strato Guns appeared on eBay with some regularity -- maybe once every month or two -- and prices were fairly consistent. Consequently, I never bothered bidding on the gun, instead holding my money for whatever rare pieces might pop up. My attitude was, "I can get one whenever I want, so for now I'll go after all the tough stuff."

One day, I was visiting the collector and dealer Justin Pinchot in sunny California. He presented me with a table full of guns for sale, including a dead mint Strato Gun. After giving it some thought, I decided on two guns: the extremely rare and utterly beautiful Renwal Planet Jet (which remains one of my all-time favorites), and a fairly common -- though extremely cool looking -- Ideal 3-Color Futurama Gun. To be fair, I didn't know whether the Futurama gun was common or not; I was new to the game and hadn't yet gained any real perspective.

Regardless, I passed on the Strato Gun because, hey, I could get one any time I wanted. Unless, of course, the supply dried up. Which it did. And unless the price climbed to about six times what I could have bought it for. Which it did.

Fast forward about four or five years. I was down in Adamstown, PA, with my friend, Karl Tate, and my girlfriend, shooting a profile of the Toy Robot Museum and its curator, Joe Knedlhans. We had taken a break for the day and decided to hit Morphy's auction house -- they also have cases full of toys being sold on consignment and you never know what you're going to find.

I still didn't own a Strato Gun because I refused to pay more than I was originally prepared to spend all those years ago. Yep, I can be stubborn like that.

I was wandering around, checking out the toys, when from a few cases over my girlfriend lets out a little yell. I rush to see what she's found and discover, sitting on a shelf and gleaming in the overhead light, a shiny Strato Gun. My pulse raced a bit as I stooped down to check out the price tag; it went into overdrive when I saw that the gun cost pretty much what I remembered it costing a few years earlier. It wasn't quite as clean as the one Justin offered me, but it was close enough. About five minutes later, I walked out the door with my newly purchased prize.

There was definitely a feeling of closure when I finally stuck the toy on my shelf; I had my Strato Gun, and a hole in my collection had finally been filled. It also stands as a powerful reminder: Every time I get bummed out about missing an auction or letting a toy slip through my fingers, all I have to do it glance at the Strato Gun and I remember that everything comes up again, and nothing's more important to a collector than patience.

Sing it, Axl! "Just a little patience/Oooh yeah/Just a little patience..."

Guest Column! X-505 Flying Saucer (Nomura, 1962)

2010-03-09T01:02:00.006-05:00

There's no denying that flying saucers played a major role in science-fiction toys of the Fifties and Sixties. There's also no denying that I don't know much about them. So I'm bringing in a ringer: Donald Conner. I'm proud to announce that Don's going to write a semi-regular column on these great old space toys, one that draws on not only his vast collection of flying saucers, but also his deep reserves of knowledge and research. If there's a man for this mission, it's Don! Take it away, buddy...

-- Doc.

By Donald Conner

In the 1950’s, you had your two basic space ship designs: the rocket and the flying saucer.

We earthlings knew all about rockets because we invented them. For years, science-fiction art and movies depicted the rockets; they were curvaceous, sexy things of beauty in a decidedly art deco mode. And by the 1950s, we were already sending them up towards space -- the dream of putting a man on the moon would soon become a reality.

Flying saucers, on the other hand, were steeped in mystery and urban legend. While people wrote about rockets in science journals, saucers were fodder for the tabloids and the pulps. These were the aliens' vehicles, terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. The idea of a flying saucer sent the mind racing: "Are they real?" "How do they work?" "Who built them?" "Are they friend or foe?" Imagine the cosmic knowledge that could be learned by one trip in a flying saucer! Combined with their unfathomable menace, they were like outlaw bikers and the key to the universe, all rolled into one.

While other kids might have been afraid of a saucer landing on their lawn, I would have asked Marvin the Martian if I could take her for a spin! A rocket could only follow a straight line, but it was a well-known fact that a flying saucer could turn on a dime and zip in the opposite direction in an instant -- it really handles, baby! It was a cross between a Lotus Elan and a hovercraft, the perfect intergalactic sports craft.

Some of Don's flying saucers.

And that's why I collect flying saucers. Once you decide to collect vintage robots and space toys, you can quickly discover that the space toys are almost overwhelming in their variety. Space tanks, flying saucers, rockets, space cars, lunar landers, space capsules, and space stations -- all have been produced by the great toy manufacturers from Japan, America, Great Britain, France, and Germany during the classic period from the mid-1950s to the late-1960s. Faced with that, I had to find a focus, and I was drawn to the flying saucers like a divining rod drawn to the Pacific Ocean. Battery operated, friction, and wind-up -- these toys whirred, spun, bumped, turned, almost but not quite fell off the table, rose and hovered! And they did it while flashing, sparking, buzzing, and beeping their way to a coveted status among kids back in the day -- and collectors today!

To launch this column, I'd like to talk about the X-505 Flying Saucer, by Nomura of Japan. It's one of my personal favorites. Sure, it's an extremely rare piece, but I also love it for its looks and its status as a trend setter.

The X-505, a true beauty!

Catalog dated to 1962, the X-505 is one of the earliest of the friction saucers to have a central, clear dome. Another Japanese company, Masudaya, had been making friction saucers some years prior, but their design had more of a fuselage swooping back between two elongated fins. And a company called Yoshiya had been making battery operated saucers with central domes and pilots as early as 1960. But Nomura took it a step forward with the X-505, introducing the tin, lithographed cockpit and pilot to the friction saucer. Other toy manufacturers would soon be copying the X-505 formula of tin-litho pilot's head and cockpit, embossed headlights, two fins, and sparking window.

Note the lithographed cockpit and pilot underneath that perfect dome.

Sparks would light inside the four elongated, red windows behind the pilot.

The X-505's mechanism is fairly simple. The inner flywheel acts as a motor for this bad boy -- rev the toy up by swiping the wheels across the floor and then set it down and watch the sparks fly as it zooms forward!

Adding an X-505 to your collection is no easy trick -- they rarely come up for sale, and I do mean rarely. But if you do come across one, take a close look at the dome. Nomura used a much thinner plastic on their friction saucer domes and it cracks easily.

I bought mine years ago in a Smith House auction, it was the one piece I wanted very badly out of that auction and at the time I didn’t have a complete sense of just how rare it is. Luckily, robots were getting much more attention than saucers in those days and I managed to snag this little gem. In the 5 years since that auction I haven’t seen another boxed example come up for sale anywhere. In my opinion, the box itself is one of the best flying saucer boxes eve. The art work really sizzles with its emphasis on the sparking engine. Whenever I see it I can't help thinking the same artwork could have been easily used on a brick of firecrackers.

So you can see why the X-505 was such a trend setter. It's a real dazzler, a space vehicle with hot-rod good looks and a forward-looking design.

Frederik Pohl's Blog!

2010-03-07T13:21:00.007-05:00

Frederik Pohl is an award-winning science-fiction writer (the Gateway series, Man Plus, The Space Merchants, etc.) whose professional career goes back to the late Forties. He's edited SF magazines and anthologies (including the fantastic "Star Science Fiction" series), worked as a book agent for other SF authors (such as Arthur C. Clarke), and was one of the founders of both the Futurians and the Hydra Club. In short, Pohl's a legend, a dominant force in shaping science fiction's development for more than 70 years.

So you can imagine my glee when I discovered that he maintains a blog! It's called "The Way The Future Blogs" (www.thewaythefutureblogs.com), which is a play off the title of his 1978 autobiography, The Way The Future Was (a fantastic read, by the way).

Pohl uses his blog to reminisce about his career, the authors he's known, science fiction's history, and the events that shaped his life. It's a treasure trove for anyone who admires the author's work, as well as fans of science fiction in general.

Space Explorer Gun (Palmer Plastic / Early 1950s / U.S. / 4 x 6 inches)

2010-03-05T00:01:00.001-05:00

I first discovered the Space Explorer Gun while flipping through the pages of Gene Metcalf's excellent book, Ray Gun. And even though it isn't the fanciest ray gun ever produced, I wanted it from the moment I saw it.

In this case, it's all about the entire package -- the tight, sweet display of ray gun, dart, and wonderfully primitive space art. Of course, the flimsy cardboard backing rarely survived the decades and the dart was probably the first thing to get lost, so I never held out much hope of actually owning a complete set. Which is why I was so shocked to find one on eBay early on in my collecting. I bid pretty hard, but apparently no one else was interested because I snagged it for next to nothing. Saint Jude might be the patron saint of lost causes, but he ain't got nothin' on eBay.

The Space Explorer Gun is pretty simple, but there's something quaint about the funky little lightning bolt and shooting star designs. I also love the two-tone look, which I never knew about until I had the gun in my hands. Photo books are fun, but they never tell the whole story, which is why I always recommend that collectors try to see other people's toys whenever possible. (Try to get an invitation first, though. The Attic of Astounding Artifacts does not condone peeping in through other collectors' windows.)

As far as I know, this particular dart is unique to the Space Explorer Gun; other darts had explosive tips of various types, but none were designed quite like this one. I like that the display card proclaims: "Explosive Dart... SAFE AND HARMLESS." Because nothing inspires feelings of safety like the word "explosive." But these kinds of mixed messages appeared all the time on the packaging for old space guns, and frankly, I think the naivete was part of their charm.

A cap would be placed in the small opening. The spring-loaded suction cup acted as a firing pin.

When this toy arrived in the mail, I was surprised to discover a second dart. The toy was never sold that way, so I tucked it away, figuring I'd sell it to someone who had the gun. Then, one day, my friend Don won the gun and display card -- but no dart. After chatting a bit, I decided to trade it to him -- for goods to be determined. He didn't have anything I wanted at the time, but he really needed to have the dart so I figured I'd just send it to him and worry about it later.

About six months after that, he did me a solid by hooking me up with a gun that by all rights belonged to him. He'd won it on eBay, I was the underbidder -- neither of us knew the other was bidding -- and after listening to me wax rhapsodic about the gun, he decided that it belonged in my collection. He wouldn't take no for an answer, and sold it to me for what he paid. (Which was only a dollar more than my high bid.)

Well! It was such a nice gesture on his part that I also absolved him of any lingering obligations relating to that Space Explorer dart -- it really was the least I could do, seeing as he didn't have to let me have the gun. In the end, we all win.

Once again, it's all about Toy Karma, guys and gals. Collecting can be cutthroat -- but it doesn't have to be. If we help each other out, we'll all end up with pretty sweet collections.

Space Water Pistol (Reliable / 1950s / CAN / 3.5 x 5.5 inches)

2010-03-01T01:28:00.005-05:00

Another unnamed ray gun, this time a water pistol. Call it what you like, but with those deco swoops, spacey fins, and sweet curves, it's not a toy you're likely to forget.

Reliable, a Canadian company, pulled out all the stops, turning the basic water pistol into a work of art. I particularly like how the toy becomes a very Flash Gordon-esque rocket when looked at from above. Very clever!

The gun also features a compass, something I wish more toys included. You just can't go wrong with a compass. Not only does it look awesome, it provides some much needed functionality. After all, space men can't rescue alien princesses if they're lost in the woods!

Reliable's water pistol was available in the usual variety of colors. And take a look at the tip of the gun. Water pistols in the 1950s often featured brass tips. It's a nice touch, a mark of quality construction. Looks cool, too, right? Lots of vintage ray guns are missing this tip, so when shopping around for one, make sure it's complete.

Forrest J Ackerman Video

2010-02-25T02:15:00.003-05:00

Apropos of nothing, here's a video of the late, great Forrest J Ackerman giving a tour of his collection of science fiction memorabilia. It's from the 1980s, back when he was still healthy and living in his famed Ackermansion. No, I didn't make it...

Forrest J Ackerman -- a.k.a. Forry Ackerman, 4E, Dr. Acula, etc. -- was one of science fiction's earliest and most active fans, beginning his involvement in 1926. Up until his death in 2008, he amassed a gigantic collection of science fiction, film, TV, and literary memorabilia, including toys, magazines, original props, and books. He housed it all in his 18-room home in Hollywood, California. And yes, he regularly gave tours.

Forry worked as a literary agent, anthologist, editor, recording artist, writer, and who knows what else. He started the seminal horror magazine Famous Monsters of Filmland, attended all but one (or two?) World Science Fiction Conventions, and even coined the term "sci fi." He was a legend in his own time, and a friend to most of the science fiction community.

Attic contributor and fellow collector Karl Tate actually turned me on to a different video about Forry, but after poking through You Tube for a bit, I decided that the above better represented the man and his collection. But really, if you've got the time, watch some of the other videos. Collectively, they offer a wonderful glimpse into the life of a man who practically defined science fiction fandom for more than 80 years.

I never had a chance to visit the Ackermansion, but I did get to speak with Forry once over the phone. I was gathering information on the early days of science fiction and conducted a short interview with him. He was gracious and friendly and happy to take the time to chat. I only wish I'd recorded the conversation.

Anyway, as I said, I've no real reason for posting this video right now. Except... Ackerman was a king among collectors, and if I had my way -- and the space, money, and time -- the Attic would look a lot like the Ackermansion. 4E was, and remains, an inspiration. So I'm just showing a little love.

Battery Operated High-Wheel Robot (Yoshiya / Japan / 1964 / 8.5 inches)

2010-02-24T01:05:00.009-05:00

This is one of those toys that just has so much going for it. Not only does the High-Wheel robot look fantastic, but it's got the kind of simple, engaging action that demonstrates exactly why these toys are so much fun.

What first attracted me to the High-Wheel robot was its explosion of color. The translucent green face -- nearly neon -- and the bright, metallic-blue body scream for attention. I love the window on its chest, and those gears -- they're just so darn whimsical. Robots like the High-Wheel really straddle the line between toys and pop art.

Like I said, the action's pretty simple, but that's part of the charm. While walking forward, the toy's head and chest light up while the gears spin and make a kind of whirring, clacking noise. The light also illuminates the toy's actual gears, turning the internal mechanism into part of the show. It's a lot of play value for such a basic, straight-forward robot. It's also kind of meta, if you think about it.

The High-Wheel was also available in two wind up variations (I'll write more about them later). Both are black, and one features six gears while the other has four. The rule of thumb says that the more complicated version of a toy usually appears first, meaning that the battery operated High-Wheel probably came out before his simpler cousins. Adding to the evidence: The battery operated High-Wheel has six gears, and the six-gear version of the wind up was released in 1964, while the four-gear version came out in 1967. From a (de)evolutionary perspective, it makes more sense that the two six-gear toys are most closely related, and it's unlikely that Yoshiya produced the wind up version, then the battery operated version, and then the four-gear wind up.

That said, I've yet to see evidence for a hard and fast date, so if anyone has any catalogue sightings for the battery operated High-Wheel, let me know!

I was still new to the hobby when I fell for this toy. I was in Elk, Washington, visiting John Rigg's massive toy robot collection, dubbed The Robot Hut. I'd been sent to Seattle on assignment, and realized that I had time to make the small detour. It was also an opportunity to meet, for the first time, an online collecting friend named Donald Conner. All in all, a great adventure for a toy robot newbie like myself.

John's place is, for all intents and purposes, kind of in the middle of nowhere. And by nowhere, I mean that it's on a farm, surrounded by other farms, which are surrounded in turn by some of the most beautiful forests and mountains I've ever seen. It seems that nowhere is actually a pretty amazing kind of place, even for a city boy like myself. So before I even saw the robots, I was feeling pretty good.

There are no words to describe how I felt inside the Robot Hut itself. Thousands of toys, all meticulously displayed. Life size models of famous cinematic robots, and prop replicas from some of the best science fiction movies of all time. Pinball games. Robotic orchestras. A life-size "Robby Jeep" from the movie Forbidden Planet. My eyes were wide, my brain was frozen. It was great!

Despite all the rare and amazing robots, it was the weird little High-Wheel that really lodged itself in my brain. There are other toys I like more, but let's face it, I'm never going to own most of them. I knew the High-Wheel was a robot I could add it to my "Want List" with the anticipation of actually checking it off.

Fast forward a couple months. I'd become friends with a collector and dealer named Justin Pinchot (often mentioned in this blog). One day, he gave me a call and as we chatted, we came around to the question that always comes up: Are you looking for anything particular?

I told him about the High-Wheel, and also bitched a bit that I couldn't seem to find one in good shape. It's not a rare toy, but I just wasn't having any luck. You can imagine my surprise, then, when Justin suddenly says to me, "Oh yeah? I've got one of those for sale. I'll send you some pics."

Justin is the master of having whatever it is you're looking for. Seriously, it's downright uncanny.

Anyway, Justin sent me the pics and I was amazed at how clean the toy was. I immediately told him I'd take it, and since then, it's been a favorite part of my collection.

FYI: New Visual Searches

2010-02-23T02:35:00.003-05:00

It occurred to me that many people might want information on a space toy but not know what the toy is called. So I threw together a bunch of quick "Visual Search" pages comprised entirely of thumbnails. Links to these pages are listed just under the "Attic of Astounding Artifacts" banner at the top of the blog. Click on the picture of the toy that interests you and you'll be taken to its blog entry. As I continue to update the blog, I'll add new photos to the appropriate Visual Search pages.

I don't know, hopefully this makes the Attic a more user-friendly resource.

Enjoy!

NOTE: I've tweaked the links to give them more of a "button" look. It ain't perfect, but it's better than what I had before.

Space Gun (Unknown / 1950s / U.S. / 3.5 x 5 inches)

2010-02-22T00:01:00.001-05:00

Space Gun. Yep. That's all I've got. I don't know what it's called, I don't know who made it. I do know, however, that it's got a great design with lots of detail, and there ain't nothing much cooler than silver plastic.

This little clicker also came in a rainbow of colors, most commonly red, blue, and green. It's not a difficult toy to find, thought its thin, brittle plastic means a lot of them come up damaged. Still, it's a potentially inexpensive addition to any collection.

If anyone's got any hard and fast info on this gun, please let me know!

Space Rocket Gun (U.S. Plastics / U.S. / 1953 / 3.5 x 5 inches)

2010-02-19T00:29:00.006-05:00

You want space-age style? Fine. Here's your space-age style!

I bought this ray gun when I first began collecting, after falling in love with a picture of it in the book Ray Gun, by Eugene Metcalf. I couldn't get over the wildly designed front site; the rings at the end of the barrel; the embossed planets, stars, and rockets; and all the other little details that helped give the gun such a strong sense of movement. I mean, this thing screamed "Space Gun," positively bellowed it from the top of the mountain.

But there were two details that the photo in Metcalf's book failed to convey. First, the gun is actually made of two different colored halves. It can be found in a wide combination of colors, including -- in no particular pairing -- red, yellow, blue, green, black, and white. I'm pretty sure I've seen silver, and possibly a mottled, marbled kind of color. It's a nice touch that adds even more playfulness to the gun's design.

The second omission is more my fault than the book's. See, Metcalf was kind enough to include some raw data on each toy, including manufacturer, date (when known), country of origin, material, and size. The thing is, I didn't pay too much attention to these details when I first got the book. And the photos, well, let's just say they didn't convey scale very well.

So you can imagine my surprise when I opened the package containing this gun and discovered that somehow U.S. Plastics managed to cram so much detail onto a toy that's only five inches long. Yep, this here space blaster is teeny-tiny. A hold-out gun, the kind of thing you keep secreted away in your boot cuff until you can see the whites, pinks, greens, and yellows of the Venusian's 36 eyes. Then you whip it out and blast him!

I've got to say, though, I really like the gun's small size. It makes all the embossing that much more impressive. It's like a miniature work of art; like scrimshaw for the junior spaceman. Any larger and the Space Clicker would probably just look garish.

This simple clicker gun is pretty easy to find on eBay, and usually doesn't sell for too much money. Often, though, the trigger is broken and swings freely. Also, the small bit sticking out from the top of the gun, directly above the trigger, is commonly missing. If you're trying to add one to your collection, play it smart and hold out for a mint example -- you won't be waiting long, and you won't pay very much.

A simple, inexpensive, cheaply made little toy, one that was sold out of bins at the front of toy stores -- who would have guessed that today it'd be considered a classic?

Now I'm Blushing...

2010-02-18T00:07:00.008-05:00

Apparently, I've been Certified Geek by the blog Toyriffic. Thanks, Bubba Shelby. Coming from a high-caliber toy geek such as yourself, this is mighty praise indeed! I appreciate it.

This award comes with some conditions, namely that I go on to declare two other blogs Certified Geek. Given how many geek-tastic blogs I read and admire, this is a tough call. Nonetheless, after a lot of soul searching and heavy thinking, I'm proud to call everyone's attention to these two, very special, very geeky, blogs:

1. Propnomicon

I love this blog because it brings the fictional world of H.P. Lovecraft to life through props and models. It's a wonderful resource for live-action Cthulu gamers, and a one-stop shop for those of us who just want to own a patch from certain cursed expeditions to the Antarctic or the Australian Outback, or notebooks from Miskatonic University. Clever and creative, it's a fitting tribute to good ol' H.P.L.

2. Radiation Cinema

A great home for deep, intelligent, and fun reviews of Atomic Age cinema. From monsters to aliens to robots to rockets, these are the flicks that get me through the day, and this is the blog that provides such wonderful insight into each and every one of them. Throw in some additional bells and whistles -- like old comics, postcards, and video clips, and you've got an excellent example of what a blog can be.

To find out more about the Certified Geek Award, and to see a list of recipients, head over to Certifiably Geek Blogs (certifiablygeekblogs.blogspot.com). Be warned: You'll end up killing a lot of time as you sift through all the fantastic blogs. Don't say I didn't warn you!

Now keep on geekin' on, brother and sister geeks!

Somebody's Reading This Thing? Wow!

2010-02-17T12:02:00.006-05:00

Many thanks to Chunky B at the wonderful Electorama blog for handing me a "One Lovely Blog" award. I'm one of seven blogs who received it under Mr. B's "Toys" category. And to think, I was told that writing about toys wouldn't ever get me anywhere. Suck on that, tenth grade English teacher Mr. Bellows!

This is my very first web award. Coming as it does from a blogger whose work I quite admire, it feels pretty good. But apparently, with neat awards comes, er, neat responsibility, and I've now got to pass on the honor to blogs that I think deserve the praise.

After giving it some considerable thought, I've decided to call out one of my favorite blogs: Webomator.

Featuring excellent, science fictional art, great writing, and all sorts of goodies, I think it stands as a good representation of what a blog can be. Definitely check it out!

Anyway, thanks again, Chunky. Say hi to Spock for me.

Space Fighter (Horikawa / 1971 / Japan / 9 inches)

2010-02-16T15:24:00.005-05:00

It was a long time before I learned to appreciate Horikawa robots. When I first began collecting, they all sort of looked alike, with their squared bodies, chunky legs, and "fly-eye" style heads. But the truth is, while Horikawa did repeat many of their design elements from robot to robot, they managed to devise a staggering variety of actions, resulting in a wide range of toys that each manage to stand out from the pack.

The Space Fighter is one of my favorite, late-era Horikawa robots. It looks fairly simple, with its chocolate colored tin and plastic body, cream colored doors, and minimalist lithography, but the robot really shines when you turn it on. First, he walks along while his body bounces up and down above his legs. It's jaunty, it's silly, it's the kind of walk that says, "Hey, I haven't got a care in the world. Bright days and wild nights, that's my life in a nutshell! It's all good."

But then he stops and swings open his doors. Twin energy cannons burst from his chest and begin flashing and firing like he's at the OK Corral. Then, just as suddenly as it started, the violence ends, his chest closes up, and the Space Fighter, confident that his superior firepower has reminded all the other robots who's boss, continues on his merry way.

Now that's a toy!

I first fell in love with the Space Fighter when I saw one at the Toy Robot Museum. The curator, Joe Knedlhans, was nice enough to show me how his worked, and I immediately decided that I had to own one myself. It took a few months, but I eventually snagged one off eBay. (Where else?) Mine actually came with its original box, but I sold it to a fellow collector. I needed to recoup some of the money I'd spent on the toy, and she needed the box to pair with her own Space Fighter. A win-win situation.

Many Horikawas are often referred to as "Fly Eyes" due to some of their robots' unique facial features.

The toy was also available in silver, though I can't say which one's rarer. Both have identical actions. It's not a particularly rare robot, but it's often found in non-working condition. The mechanism that makes it bounce is surprisingly simple, but all that jolting action sometimes shakes loose some wires. The robot literally shakes himself to death.

Yikes!

Died: Legendary Science Fiction Author William Tenn

2010-02-14T09:45:00.016-05:00

I was out of the country and only now heard the news about William Tenn's passing. Very sad. I conducted this interview in 2006 for a project that ended up fizzling out. It has sat on a shelf since then, and I’m upset that it took William Tenn’s passing for me to finally publish it. He was a fantastic author, and a friendly, interesting man. I'll always appreciate the fact that he took some time out to speak with me.

On February 7, 2010, science fiction author William Tenn passed away. He was 89 years old. He leaves behind a career's worth of science fiction that helped shape the genre itself.

William Tenn (via The Official William Tenn website)

Born Philip Klass, Tenn was one of science fiction’s premier satirists, poking and prodding everything from the military to the U.S. government’s policy towards arms proliferation to humanity’s egotistical belief in its own cosmic superiority to religious intolerance. Along the way, he’s become a legend in the sf community for not only his prose—which, at its best, was punchy, thought provoking, witty, and grim—but also his love-hate relationship with the field itself.

Tenn began publishing with “Alexander the Bait,” which appeared in Astounding Science Fiction in 1946. In it, he presciently described space exploration as an institutional endeavor, rather than the result of capable individuals (as in Heinlein’s The Man Who Sold the Moon). By the 1950s, Tenn had found a regular outlet in Galaxy, a magazine that, under the editorship of Horace L. Gold, championed to new voices and non-traditional themes in science fiction. There, the author continued to develop his pointed, intelligent humor.

“The Brooklyn Project,” in particular, ranks among Tenn’s funniest works, and stands along side Harry Harrison’s Bill The Galactic Hero and Joe Haldeman’s Forever War as a powerful indictment of the military. In the story, the press and various officials are invited to a secret bunker to witness the results of government experimentation involving time travel. Faced with this ultimate weapon, the journalists ask about dangers involved in mucking about with time. As the demonstrations continue, and elements of the present slowly begin to change, the government’s representative assures everyone with blithe optimism that such risks are completely nonexistent.

They say that science fiction’s job isn’t to predict the future. Anyone reading “The Brooklyn Project” today might disagree.

During this early period, Tenn also established himself as a master of the short story. Pieces like “Lisbon Cubed,” “Down Among the Dead,” and “Firewater” remain prime examples of compact narrative, and demonstrate how an author can use the form to cultivate complex ideas and multifaceted characters.

Tenn only published two novels, including A Lamp for Medusa and Of Men and Monsters, both in 1968. In the latter, humans are conquered by giant aliens, but the race lives on, surviving in the walls like rats. The Earthlings eventually spread to the stars on alien ships, much the same way that rodents spread through Europe.

William Tenn was born in London in 1920, and soon moved with his parents to New York City. He began writing after leaving the army in 1945. After 20 years as an author, he began teaching science fiction at Pennsylvania State University, where he was Professor Emeritus of English and Comparative Literature. Tenn was honored as Author Emeritus at the annual Nebula Awards Banquet in 1999, and in 2004 he was Guest of Honor at Worldcon, Noreascon 4. In 2006, Tenn was the Guest of Honor at Loscon.

His more than five dozen short stories have appeared in nine collections, and Tenn’s non-fiction writing was collected in 2004’s Dancing Naked, which was nominated for the 2005 Hugo award for Best Related Book.

DOC ATOMIC: You’ve been working in the science fiction field for over 50 years. Have you worked up a definition or description that you think encapsulates sf?

WILLIAM TENN: Science fiction is for the literate. Not the scientifically literate, but the knowledgeably literate, the people who are aware of the substantial amount of knowledge in our society. I define science fiction as that form of literature which could not have existed prior to the scientific revolutions of the 17th and 18th centuries, and the industrial revolution of the 19th century.

Sadly, most people aren’t interested in knowledge, they’re not interested in the games you can play with knowledge. Years ago, I used to think that a day might come when science fiction would be universally accepted -- now I’m much more pessimistic. I think by its very nature, science fiction is a restrictive form of literature, and has a restricted group of readers. They are the people who know what’s going on in the world, and who like to play with that knowledge. That’s not the truth with the majority of people.

Don’t get me wrong. I would very much like for science fiction to be more generally accepted. It is much more accepted now than it used to be.

You know, I wrote a piece once for a United Nations booklet on modern literature. In the course of it, they asked me to define science fiction, and I did as I just did it with you. Then I said, “If you want another definition, it’s the mass literature of the very, very few.” That’s what it’s always been.

The people who are acquiring a mass audience in science fiction, today are not those who worked in it all those years. Most of them are not writing pure science fiction, they’re writing fantasy. That appeals to the majority of the people who live in the past and think in terms of the monsters and the horrors and the gods and the battles of the past.

Your comment about science fiction being for the literate flies in the face of many of the genre’s critics. You don’t have to go far back to read comments like, “It’s for kids,” “It’s for sub-literates.” Most literary critics claim that intelligent people read the classics.

Let me tell you a story. When I was at Penn State, and I was a brand new assistant professor, the head of the department’s wife used to introduce me to visiting luminaries by saying, “Have you met Phil Klass? He writes science fiction under the name William Tenn. My children read it.”

Then, one evening, I visited the families house. When I put my coat down in her bedroom, I saw a stack of science fiction books on her bedside table. The best stuff in the field. She’d been reading it for years, but as the wife of the head of the department, she could never admit it.

So her “children” read it. That’s just the way things are, sometimes.

In your collection of short stories, you write an afterward to “Lisbon Cubed.” In it, you said that you felt it was your duty to help get people ready for the time when the aliens arrived. Not in the sense that there would be an interstellar war or anything like that, but more likely, that the clash of cultures would be overwhelming. You focused on that theme in other stories, as well. Do you still feel this way today?

Actually, I now feel that way. Years ago, when I first wrote about aliens, I didn’t know what I was doing. I was operating out of instinct. My attitude was, “This is a good thing to do, it’s a good thing to experiment with intellectually.”

Now, at my point in life, I very much wish I had written more stories like it. More to prepare human beings for all the possible insane variations that life might take, and intelligence might take, if we encounter it. One of these days, we’re likely to discover that we’re not nature’s only child. We have siblings. Some are older than us, and all of them are quite different from us. We have to learn to live with them.

It’s usually true that when a child acquires a sibling later in life, it’s a much more difficult adjustment than if he’d grown up with that sibling. If we’d grown up with another intelligent creature from the earliest stages of our evolution, it would be easier for us to deal with, but we didn’t, so we’re going to be discovering it in our late adolescence, you might say. Our early youth. We’re going to be discovering that we do have siblings, and I think it’s going to be a very traumatic experience.

That seems to be the theme behind other stories, like “Fire Water.”

That’s correct. I wrote that story specifically to imagine just how traumatic the experience might be. If the aliens weren’t trying to conquer us, and were just amused by us… It seems like a very small thing, but it could be shattering to our self-esteem, to our species’ self awareness.

In fact, one of John Campbell’s objections to the story when I first gave it to him for Astounding was that it was a problem with no satisfactory answer, no real solution. So he rejected it.

But life doesn’t always have any clear-cut answers. Nothing’s black and white. Sometimes you just have to face whatever options life does present.

Right. For instance, we might be someone’s dopey kid brother. That’s not a very appetizing prospect for human beings to face. We’re going out into space, we’re visualizing that we will meet other civilizations and form super civilizations and that sort of thing, but if we meet anything that’s ahead of us in evolution, we’re in trouble. It doesn’t even need to be too far ahead of us!

As I told my class in Penn State, an industrial revolution almost occurred in the golden age of Greece. They had the steam engine, they had a hustling civilization, they were very interested in science and mathematics. It would have taken very little to go over the edge and have a real industrial revolution. That was about 2500 years ago.

My God! Just try to imagine where we might be 2500 years from now. Not only in terms of science and invention, but also things like genetic manipulation. You’re kind of dazzled and overcome by the possibilities, and that’s the least of what we might encounter. 2500 years is nothing in geological or evolutionary time.

It begs the question, What if something out there developed our technology 2500 years ago, and then met us tomorrow. There’s no cosmic rulebook that says we all need to start at the same point, at the same moment of time.

Yes. For instance, consider the possibility that during the age of dinosaurs an intelligent species of dinosaur developed, giving it a 65 million-year jump on us. We might have to adjust to something pretty humiliating.

You know, that’s one of the things that’s almost never been written about in science fiction. Campbell told me that when he read “Firewater.” He said, “There’s a reason why that possibility hasn’t been discussed.” He meant that it was that ugly. Nobody wanted to think about it.

He objected on the grounds that nobody would want to read it?

That was his objection as an editor. As a scientific thinker, he just couldn’t accept it.

That’s sort of strange. One of the nice things about science fiction as a genre is that it can cover such a broad range of topics and ideas. Most themes can be pretty successfully explored within a science-fictional framework.

I’ve come to feel that the weakness of science fiction as a literary form, as an art form, lay in the fact that there are no limits. In my article “The Fiction of Science Fiction,” I talked about form without limits with approval. But that was written in 1953 or, or maybe 1955.

The fact of the matter is, I now feel that great art is always constrained art. G.K. Chesterton, in one of his great aphorisms said, “The essence of the picture is the frame.”

Science fiction has no frame. I’ve come to feel, now, that the fact that Michelangelo had to paint within the confines of a church ceiling, that he had to be a genius within those limits, was part of what made his work so great.

Remember, though, Brian, here, and elsewhere, I might not know what I’m talking about. I’m just giving you reflections the ideas I’ve had in my eighties that I might have violently disagreed with when I was in my forties.

Where do those limits come from when you’re dealing with a field that is, as you’ve said, limitless. Who imposes them? The artist? The critics? The readers?

Campbell attempted to do it. Let’s face facts, in the course of establishing limits, he made known certain things he did not want people to write about. He did not want stories about politics, he did not want stories about sex, he did not want stories about superior aliens. There are other limits, but I can’t remember them offhand.

On the other hand, because of those limits, you might say that’s why he had the prodigious effect that he did. His writers had to concentrate in a smaller and smaller area in a field that was essentially limitless. That concentration was wonderful for them. In retrospect, it produced the Golden Age.

I’m asking, “Is that what is necessary for a golden age?” I don’t know, I’m asking. Would Shakespeare and the other dramatists have achieved as much greatness if they didn’t have to be so careful about the crown, and about what the nobility might think of what they wrote? It’s an interesting question.

Does that mean that the limits can be arbitrary, just so long as they’re there?

You have a good point. I’ve got to say, I don’t have the answer to that. I do know, though, that the greatest science fiction writer who ever lived was H.G. Wells or, more likely, Olaf Stapledon. Those two took us outside our present evolutionary status, and imagined the first and last men, men who were beyond anything we’ve ever known.

Notice, today, how little Olaf Stapledon is read. There are a very small group of people who have read and are enthused about Olaf Stapleton, but not nearly as many as have read Heinlein or Asimov.

You mentioned earlier that you didn’t originally feel the need to help people adjust to the idea of aliens, and that the feeling came later. What changed?

When I first began, I saw my duty as a science fiction writer was to warn people about the use of nuclear weapons. Of scaring people about the use of them.

I’ve got another story called “Liberation of Earth.” I wrote in my afterward to it that it was originally written about the Korean war, but protestors would read it aloud at anti-Vietnam war rallies, too. My feeling at that time I wrote “Liberation of Earth” was, it’s a hell of a thing to be a Korean or a Vietnamese in such a situation. I wasn’t taking sides, just writing about it. That was my duty then.

I was writing stories about aliens, you see. All of a sudden, it was something that dawned on me: I was not only writing warnings about nuclear warfare, I was not only writing warnings about political narrowness, I was also writing about aliens. I decided it was a good thing to do, to warn people about the ways in which we might experience aliens. It sort of evolved out of the things I was interested in at the time.

Your writing has always featured a lot of satire. What made you take that tone when approaching your short stories?

The writers I most admire have been satirists. Like Juvenal. Swift. Voltaire. And later on Orwell. Huxley. These are people I read very much when I was young. They were people who formed my attitude and viewpoint as a writer.

It’s always struck me that science fiction is an ideal medium for satire. You have the element of the fantastic in it, but it was based very soundly on knowledge of the time. As a result, it inevitably had to do with the issues of that time, but explored from many different viewpoints, and picked through for all their possibilities. If you do that, you find you’re writing a satire three out of four times, one way or another. Sometimes its very overt, sometimes you don’t even know what it is you’re writing about.

And people who were in a position to clamp down on satire and satirists probably don’t read much science fiction. Especially back in the Forties and Fifties.

When I wrote “Brooklyn Project” and “The Liberation of Earth,” reactionaries were very much control of the politics in the United States., It was not possible to write those sorts of stories in any other medium. You’d be hounded out. But in science fiction, no body even noticed it.

Were you ever worried about backlash?

Was I worried that I might get nailed on something and driven out of writing? Yes. But on the other hand, I had something going for me: I was writing under a pseudonym. It’s true, my pen name is now worth something, but back then, if worse came to worse, I could just write under a different pen name. I had that going for me.

So yes, I was scared. But this is the only thing I wanted to do. It was the only occupation I wanted to work in.

You know, when Israel became a state, and five Arab armies invaded it, Israel claimed to have a secret weapon. You know what it was? The secret weapon was “No Alternative.” And I had the same secret weapon. I had no alternative. I didn’t want to do anything else.

Did you always know you wanted to be a science fiction writer?

Well, the only thing I ever wanted to do for many years was act. I was a failed actor. I believe many writers are failed actors. Or failed philosophers.

Then, later on, in my forties, I discovered something else that I liked as much as writing: teaching. I went to Penn State and I always felt I could teach, but I never expected I’d be allowed because I didn’t have any degrees. I didn’t even have a BA. But at Penn state they stuck me on as an assistant professor and I found I was a good teacher and I enjoyed it.

For what it might be worth, once you stop and realize that I was doing some of my best work in political satire, you can think about is as being a limited medium. It’s a frame. So, in a sense, I was being constrained and forced to concentrate. I was writing in a narrow format with limitations. So that’s something to think about.

Well, back on the subject of constraints, you’ve always worked in the world of short stories and novellas. James Gunn has written that they represent the best form for science fiction. Do you agree?

First of all, now that I’m older, I would say the same thing. I agree with James Gunn. I think the short story is much more logically the perfect format for science fiction. It’s got a narrower frame.

But I’ve always been a novel aficionado. I’ve always loved them. And I’ve always loved long novels -- Dostoyefski, Tolstoy, Dickens. These are the people I’ve absorbed, and that’s what I wanted to write. But when I began, you couldn’t write science fiction novels, there wasn’t a market for it. Since I wanted to write science fiction, and most science fiction was in short form in the magazines, I began writing short stories. That’s how I made my living for a long time.

Did you ever consider becoming more of a novelist?

I failed at the time when I should have made the transition. My transition story should have been “Firewater.” [Author/Editor] Fred Pohl was my agent at the time. I wrote “Firewater” and I told Fred that it deserved the full novel treatment. And it was just about the point when novels began taking off in science fiction. This was about 1952.

Fred told me that it was a very bad piece of work, and I’d be very lucky to sell it for a half-cent a word to a manuscript publisher. Eventually it did sell to Campbell and it was voted the best story of the year in Astounding. But I don’t know what was wrong with Fred on that, because otherwise he was a very good agent.

So I never got around to doing a novel for a very long time. By then, I’d acquired a substantial amount of technique and interest in the science fiction short story. Now, I find that I’ve been trying to write novels and it’s been very difficult, because I know how to do the short story very easily.

But I didn’t do set out to write short stories deliberately. For a long time, I saw myself as a novelist who was writing short stories when he shouldn’t be. Then, one day, I said to myself, “No, I’m a short story writer and I’m good at it, and that’s what I do well. And I’ll keep doing it.”

Science fiction paperbacks were just coming into prominence when you decided to publish your early collections. Once again, talking about limits and boundaries, you ended up working with Ian Ballantine, who was experimenting with simultaneous paperback and hardcover book publishing. How did that come about?

Ian Ballantine came to me in the late Forties or early Fifties, and he wanted my first collection of short stories. Like you said, in those days, he was publishing simultaneously hard and paper bound. It turned out to be a big mistake, because it never really took off, though I’ve always said it was a brilliant idea.

In any event, he came up with the idea, and his advances were fantastic. In those days, when most hardbound publishers offered most young writers an advance of $500, or $1000, and paperbound publishers offered an advance of maybe $1500, Ballantine came to me and offered an advance of $5000. At that time, it was a dazzling sum of money.

But I had another idea, something I’d been looking to do for a long time. I told him that I didn’t want the advance -- I wanted a retainer. Instead of giving me $5000, I wanted $5200, paid at the rate of $100 a week, $400 and change a month. I figured I could live comfortably on that, while I’d write what I wanted to write for a year. He thought it was a good idea and he gave it to me. I imagine he made similar arrangements with other writers, but I’m not sure.

How did it work out?

He paid me for about three months, and he ended up going broke. He had real financial trouble with the publishing firm. So he took me out to lunch at Keen’s Chophouse. We had an absolutely magnificent lunch, and as I bit into the mutton chop -- and it was a great mutton chop -- he pointed out to me that he would not honor the terms of the contract. He would much rather pay me a small sum of money and call it the whole advance.

He said, “I’m looking at it from your point of view, too.”

I left the mutton chop and said, “From my point of view?”

“Yes,” he said. “After all, when a writer takes a big advance, he’s only borrowing money from himself.”

And I said, “Ian, there’s nobody in the world I’d rather owe!”

He burst into laughter and kept choking because he didn’t want to laugh. He didn’t want to find it funny. He was laughing and gagging at the same time.

Did you get paid?

I had to sue him. He took Sturgeon out to lunch, and Sturgeon agreed to the deal. He took a number of writers out to lunch and they renegotiated contracts with him, too. Either I was the only one who refused to go down to the lower figure, or Bob Scheckley and I were, I don’t know. I had to sue him, and I won.

Were deals like that common back then? With science fiction still fairly young by the book publisher’s standards, was it difficult for you to negotiate contracts?

In those days, I don’t think any paperbound publisher paid more than $2500. I think Gold Medal did, but they didn’t publish much science fiction. Places like Pyramid, those kind of places, paid very low sums of money. When Bantam books got in touch with me, I had to write up something called the “Phil Klass Oh.” I told Sheckley about it, and he was very much impressed.

What happened was, in the “Phil Klass Oh,” you don’t say “no” to somebody, you just say “oh.”

Saul David was the big cheese of Bantam when they got in touch with me to publish a collection of stories called Time in Advance. By the way, he later went to Hollywood and became a producer. Anyway, he called me to his office and he said “We’re interested in publishing Time In Advance.”

I was ecstatic, because it was very hard by then to get a book of science fiction short stories published. And that one was actually four short novels, which it was out of the question in those days. So I was willing to take anything to get it published. But I didn’t say so.

I was preparing myself for the “Oh.” It was a routine I’d developed many years before. Whatever number he said to me, I’d say “oh,” in a sadly disappointed way. Not turning it down, you see.

So he said, “Phil, the advance—we’re willing to go as high as $1250.”

And I looked at him and I said, “Oh.”

There was dead silence. I didn’t say anything more.

So he said, “What, you’re not satisfied with that?”

“Well,” I said, “I was hoping for a little bit more.”

I wasn’t saying no to it in any way, because I was ecstatic over it!

He said, “We’ll we can go to $2250.”

So I made $1000 just for saying, “Oh.”

I came back and I told that to Sheckley and he said, “That ‘Oh’ is worth its weight in beaten gold.” He went on to use it and did much better with it than I ever did!

-##-

FURTHER READING

William Tenn Official Site: dpsinfo.com/williamtenn/

io9 Obituary: io9.com/5466927/remembering-golden-age-science-fiction-author-william-tenn

New York Times Obituary: www.nytimes.com/2010/02/14/books/14tenn.html?hpw

Locus Online Obituary: www.locusmag.com/News/2010/02/philip-klass-william-tenn-1920-2010.html

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY FOR WILLIAM TENN

Of All Possible Worlds (1955)
The Human Angle (1956)
Time in Advance (1958)
Of Men and Monsters (1968)
A Lamp for Medusa (1968)
The Seven Sexes (1968)
The Square Root of Man (1968)
The Wooden Star (1968)
Immodest Proposals: The Complete Science Fiction of William Tenn, Volume I (2000)
Here Comes Civilization: The Complete Science Fiction of William Tenn, Volume II (2001)
Dancing Naked: The Unexpurgated William Tenn (2004)

Original Pulp Paintings from the Robert Lesser Collection

2010-02-09T10:20:00.004-05:00

The William Benton Museum of Art is hosting an exhibition of Robert Lesser's voluminous collection of original pulp paintings. The show runs until March 14, 2010, and includes artwork from the covers of such magazines as Amazing Stories, Weird Tales, Astounding Science Fiction, and Planet Stories, as well as those of other genres, including Western, detective and crime, and war stories.

To learn more, visit the exhibition's web site: www.thebenton.org/exb_current.php?inc=31

There's also a slide show of artwork, including the covers of the magazines for which it was used, here.

It's a great opportunity to see some great, uniquely American pop art, and I highly recommend anyone who can make the trip does so.

I had a chance to poke through much of the art when I visited Lesser's apartment a few years ago. It was stacked four, five, six, seven paintings deep against every wall of his small, New York apartment. The art hung from every flat surface -- including the ceiling! Overwhelming. Scary and impressive at the same time. Lesser always said that he wants people to be able to appreciate the art, so it's great to see that it's found a home for a while. (I know he plans on donating it to a museum in New Britain, CT, sometime in the future.)

Robert Lesser at the preview of the auction of his vintage robots and space toys. (Photo by Karl Tate)

Lesser's art was on display a few years ago at the Brooklyn Museum. They did a pretty weak job of mounting the exhibition, though the scope and grandeur still came through. I hope this time the museum does the collection -- and the collector -- justice by putting some more thought into how they hang the art.

Back From A Foreign Land

2010-02-07T21:47:00.001-05:00

I was away on vacation for the last week and a half, but new posts resume tomorrow. And I promise that, in the future, they'll appear more often than once every two weeks!

A Picture's Worth A Thousand... Toys?

2010-01-23T00:17:00.006-05:00

Last night, I had the distinct pleasure of playing host to artist Steven Skollar, who was over at the Attic to take some photographs of my robots and ray guns. Skollar's a painter -- and a very good one, at that -- and needed the pictures to use as references for an upcoming series of portraits.

Painter Steven Skollar taking a reference photo of Irwin's Shooting Man From Mars.

Of course, when he contacted me a few days ago, I'll admit I'd never heard of Steven Skollar. But after digging through his web site (www.stevenskollar.com) and seeing his art, I knew I wanted to help him out. He works in oils and his style evokes art by the past masters. We're talking classic portraiture -- weighty, heavy, realistic stuff that both scrutinizes and celebrates its subjects in a way you just don't often see anymore.

However, he applies this technique to the most whimsical of subjects: Toys! (How freakin' cool!)

This is great pop art, no doubt about it. And what I really love about Skollar's painting is that he avoids the overwhelming irony that's infected so much of today's pop-, low-brow, and underground art scenes. (Irony's fine, don't get me wrong, but too much of it gets annoying. I'll leave that rant for another time, though.) The pop-ness of it all stems from, among other things, the juxtaposition of technique and subject, of the serious and the playful, of the meticulous and the goofy. He embraces it all with equal amounts of passion, and it comes through in his work.

So yeah, you can understand why I was so happy to help him out.

But there were other reasons to have him over -- besides my being a big ol' (if newly minted) fanboy.

For one thing, I was curious about the toys he'd choose to paint. He was interested in their aesthetics, he told me. Which robots and ray guns did interesting things with light? Which ones had funky shapes? Which ones looked fun? He wanted to strip away discussions of rarity, age, manufacturer, variations, and especially monetary value and get to those things that make toys toys.

I love that. We collectors put up walls between ourselves and these things by placing them on pedestals. We treat them like museum pieces. But if we're really going to appreciate them, I think it's important to remember that they're playthings designed for kids. They were meant to inspire imagination, and then to be consumed and destroyed so that parents would run out and buy more of them. With this in mind, the fact that they can function today as objects of art and historical artifacts just makes it all so much cooler.

(Look, I'm not a complete maniac. I know these toys are often delicate and -- sigh -- expensive, and I know they need to be treated with care and respect. I'm just sayin' that they're still toys, and let's try to not lose sight of that.)

On top of all this, I was looking forward to watching Skollar take his photos. I know the picture above makes it look like he's set up a little display with a couple small lights. But believe me, there's much more to his technique. However, it's top secret, so I can't get into it. Suffice it to say, I learned a lot of tricks that I'll be trying out on some upcoming photos for the blog.

So what's it all for? Why's Skollar doing all this work? Well, that's also top secret for now. But as soon as he's released all the information, you can be sure I'll post it here. Let's just say that as a fan of both toy robots and Skollar's painting, I'm very excited about what's in store for the next year.

Space Toys Online: Video Profile of Justin Pinchot

2010-01-07T18:52:00.005-05:00

My friend Justin was profiled by a show called So-Cal's Best, which runs on Time Warner Cable in, well, Southern California. It's a neat little piece that does a great job of introducing people to space guns and robots. Of course, my favorite part was seeing Justin with short hair -- the last time I saw him in California, he was sporting a pony tail. Lookin' good, J!

To all my friends, new and old...

2010-01-01T00:01:00.000-05:00

It's 2010, an appropriately futuristic-sounding year. A year for inspiring bright accomplishments, eyes-wide wonder, and, I hope, fantastic opportunities for us all. So as we slip just a bit more into the future, I want to wish everyone all the best in the New Year!

Keep happy, keep healthy, and, of course, keep collecting!

Zetaray (Pifco / Early 1960s / U.K. / 4.5 x 7 inches)

2009-12-31T15:08:00.007-05:00

Sorry for the delay, everybody. The holidays can be a busy time... and a lazy time. But we're back, and ending 2009 with a bang! Get it? Hm...

The Zetaray, by a British company called Pifco, is definitely one of the gee-whizziest ray guns in my collection. Its sleek, slick lines and sweeping fins make it look more like a space ship than a space gun, and the metallic blue plastic is probably the most beautiful finish you're likely to find on any toy.

Of course, like so many of these ray guns, the looks outweigh the functionality -- this one clicks and has a flashlight in the barrel. But it's still enough to have made the Zetaray a fun toy for kids to play with back in the day.

The gun is clearly modeled on the Radionic Resonator Beam Gun (which I wrote about here), which was made by the British manufacturer Multum. Pifco modified the tail fin and ditched the more complicated, multi-color lens array. They also offered up the Zetaray in a second color, metallic bronze, which is quite striking. Still, I've got to say I like the blue one more. It's definitely less common.

The basic Pifco version of the design was reused a few other times. There's version from Argentina called the Linterna Espacial, which is available in both red and green. And I recently saw an amazing version from Australia called the Supersonic Space Shooter that includes a color-changing mechanism similar to the one found on the Radionic Resonator Beam Gun.

Australia's version of this classic gun. Pic via eBay.

While all these variations might be tough to get, luckily for collectors, the Zetaray isn't that hard to find, and can usually be had for a reasonable price. Which is nice, because it's a great piece that looks stellar in any collection.